Reading and Rules

Ben's reading skills really blossomed at the end of first grade--he went from one of the lowest reading groups to one of the higher (not highEST, but highER) ones in a matter of weeks. This is typical development for Ben--all progress for him comes as a series of leaps and plateaus. For example, when he learned to walk, he didn't do it progressively, a few steps and then a few more, until finally he stumbled toddler-like across the living room. That's how "normal" kids learn to walk. Ben,though, just waited until long after most kids start walking, and then he got up and ran away without any warning at all. He didn't learn to talk by verbalizing first a few words, and then simple sentences, and finally more complex language. He just waited until we were sure that he would only say "Bah, bah, bah!" for his entire life, and then he spoke in full sentences. Not necessarily comprehensible sentences (hence the speech therapy), but grammatically correct sentences all the same. Just like that. It's been the same for all developmental milestones thus far. So I did not worry when Ben could not read at the beginning of first grade, and I was not worried when he seemed to make no progress throughout the year, because I knew that it was coming. And sure enough, sometime in March or April, he just started to read.

But reading has brought with it some unexpected changes in Ben's personality. Because, now he can read the rules--and rules are a very important part of Ben's life. For example, we went to the public pool a few weeks ago and Ben immediately spotted the "Pool Rules" sign hanging from the locker room wall. He read it from top to bottom, and then he turned to observe the application of the rules around the pool. Not surprisingly, several violations were in progress. Ben became upset quite quickly. He demanded, "Mom, WHY is that kid running? The rules say, 'No running.' But that kid is running. Why is he running?" I tried to explain that not everyone reads and follows the rules, but Ben spent the rest of our time at the pool pointing out running children, until he became sufficiently aggravated that we had to head home. We've returned to the pool a couple times since then, and each time Ben is careful to point out the rule-breakers to me. All of them.

Reading has its perks, though, too. For example, Chris (my dh) created signs for all Ben's dresser drawers, and now Ben is able to put away his laundry in separate drawers instead of shoving all garments into a single drawer. I can create chore lists, and menus, and Ben derives a significant sense of control by knowing the established expectations. But I wonder how this school year, which begins in just two weeks, will be different for Ben now that he can read the rules of his environment. I think it could go one of two ways: either he will feel safe and comfortable, or he will feel continually irritated as those around him violate the sacrosanct class rules. Time will tell.

Funny and Crazy!

It's official--the school year has begun. I spent the entire day with my phone in my hand and my stomach in my throat, wondering how Ben was going to do and whether I was going to get a call from the school.

I had another meeting with the school psychologist, the principal, and Ben's teacher earlier this week. It was the first time I'd met with his teacher, and so after the psychologist told her that Ben was going to have an IEP for Autism, I started to explain to her some of the struggles that Ben had last year (and the year before). Before I'd gotten through my list, this wonderful teacher stopped me and said, "Now, I don't know if you already know this, but my second son [who is now grown] has Asperger's [a form of Autism, for those of you who don't know]." She continued, "So, I know that every child is unique and Ben's situation won't be exactly like my son's, but I just wanted you to know that I understand." I could have started crying right there. Fortunately, I'm not much of a crier, but you have to imagine the wave of relief that rolled over me when I realized that she's not going to think Ben is just a strange, difficult, "bad" little boy. Better yet, she understands that when he's acting out, he's just trying to communicate that he's in overload mode. Over the course of about 1/2 hour, we strategized all kinds of interventions that we think will help Ben when he's struggling, and as the meeting ended, she encouraged me to bring Ben in early to the school Open House the next day, so she could show him around without the extra chaos of other parents and children.

At the Open House, Ben took to her like chocolate to milk--he immediately asked her to show him all the things in the room that she could. She had the lights at about 3/4 brightness in the room so that the atmosphere was calm. She had created a special spot on the story rug for him that would allow him to have some space away from the other kids if he needed it during rug time; she had his desk set up at the end of the row, nearest her desk, and away from all but one other child on his left--a child she knew would be relatively easy to get along with. She showed him how he can slide his desk to another spot away from the other kids if he starts to feel upset by them. She showed him his special spot to stand (on the top step, in front of the other kids) when lining up in the morning after recess. He heard every word and it was awesome.

And then we went down to my other son Joey's classroom. Bright florescent lights, echoing walls, and loads of other people. Ben sat in the corner with some blocks for about 5 minutes, and then he began throwing chairs onto their backs, slapping strangers on their bottoms and laughing, spinning the teacher's big desk chair, pushing papers off her desk, blowing and spitting in my face when I tried to hold him--total, complete meltdown. And all my euphoria and hopefulness that we'd make it through this year vanished like dew from a too-warmed lawn.

And then it was today. I made sure Ben got his meds, which sometimes work and sometimes don't, plenty early this morning. I got Ben dressed and made his breakfast--the wrong breakfast, he yelled--and then I made the right breakfast (some battles are not worth fighting--not on the first day of school). He shouldered his backpack and dad drove them to school. And I waited, and waited, and waited... and when the school's number showed up on my caller ID about an hour before the school day ended, my heart sank. False alarm--the principal needed some help with the website. To his knowledge, Ben was doing fine.

My dh Chris (who doesn't work on Thursdays) and I drove over to the school and waited for Ben outside when the final bell rang. He appeared, ran into my arms, and exclaimed, "My teacher is funny and crazy!" We went inside and his teacher confirmed that Ben had a great day.

One down, too many to count to go.