Learning How to Learn

 

It’s taken the second semester of grade 7 to feel like I’m finally understanding how to reinforce what J’s learning at school at home. I feel like we’re starting to get a good system going with J’s paras and teachers in how to modify assignments, tests, and practice assignments that will help J learn the best.

J’s strengths lie in memorization, and he does really well with flashcards (homemade ones or through Quizlet. Are you familiar with Quizlet? It’s a wonderful free little app that lets you practice through flashcards, matching, definitions, etc). He’s funny with the memorization though. You give him a map of Africa and he can fill out all 55 countries in 2 min or less, but you give him a human body and it’s a lot harder for him to label that “map.” One thing I’m learning with him is that all skills aren’t equal. If it’s a subject he’s interested in, then you’ve hit the memorization jackpot (think superhuman skills–I’m not exaggerating on this). If it’s something he’s not interested in, he can still memorize it, it takes more time and diligent practice. That’s one thing that we’ve been working with his teachers and paras. Trying to get notes and terms and concepts home ASAP so we can start working on them weeks before the test (not a few days before). I know it sounds like a no-brainer, but it’s a lot harder than it sounds. It takes a lot of coordination, and a lot of stuff being sent home and sent back to school. I’ve been really excited this last month, however. I feel like we’re getting into that back and forth groove.

J came home with some AWESOME practice sheets his para made for him to help him study the human body. BIG versions of the traditional 8 1/2 x 11 computer printouts and laminated so he can use a dry erase marker to do that repetitive practice (also to accommodate his handwriting issues!). He also has flash cards to practice the functions and definitions of certain things (mechanical digestion, chemical digestion, arteries, etc). His science teacher has modified the amount of content J has to know (he has to label 10/16 bones on the skeleton, 4/11 parts of the heart–right/left ventricle and right/left atrium, etc). Enough to give him an introduction of the human body and practice a way of learning and studying without overwhelming him.

Labeling the ventricles on the heart

Identifying bones

Practicing the definitions through handwriting and modified paper

J is also a nontraditional learner. His body language can fool you into thinking he’s not paying attention, tired, or checked out. This first video shows him practicing Latin numbers. With his head on the table, it looks like he’s checked out, but if you listen to him, you can tell he’s really concentrating (and trying not to look at the answers on the table). Don’t judge my Latin pronunciation–the only language I know besides English is French, and J has already corrected me a few times of my French-ish pronunciation of Latin terms. This is one of a million reasons why his paras are so important–they can undo any damage I do when I don’t teach him things exactly right.

J earns jellybeans for studying masses of words or definitions. Since he has to learn his colours in Latin, I make him tell me what the Latin colour is and the Latin number of jelly beans before he gets it. Whether we’re studying Latin or the heart. It’s good “not studying” studying.

Sometimes we use Quizlet, and sometimes I make a homemade version. Here’s J practicing his Latin colours through matching.

I also try to mix up the ways we practice things (like the jellybeans). Here’s J identifying body parts by just touching his body.

It’s taken a lot of coordination and a lot of organization (personally–I am not an organized person by nature). I try to get as much of my work and writing done before the kids come home so we can focus the rest of the night on studying. Sometimes I have to multitask and make dinner, but we make sure we do the daily practice DAILY. I admit there are some nights where I just don’t want to do it (and think his paras can do it during resource) but in order for J to really learn (and understand what he’s learning is important) we need to reinforce at home. Sometimes it’s a fight. Most times he’s willing to practice.

It’s not Pintrest worthy, but here are my binders for J’s practice sheets and studying. That way I don’t have piles of papers on our counters and I can keep copies of practice sheets and Ziplocs for flash cards and other study helps with each separate subject. This has made my life a million times easier.

The funny thing about this whole study experience, is that I’m learning all of this over again as I’m working with him. I don’t know exactly where my trachea or small intestine is, and I get along just fine. I always Google things when I need to. I have a basic idea of what an artery is, but I don’t remember the exact definition. I know that blood flows in and out of our heart in different directions, but I don’t remember how or where that happens until I start reading his textbook again. J’s teachers and I go back and forth a lot on what exactly will be helpful for J to learn and what won’t matter in the end. But the more I work with him I realize, that the content he learns now isn’t the only thing that matters. Most of us forget at least half of the content (or more) learned in middle school and high school by the time we graduate. It’s the practice and discipline and thinking skills that are the most important for J to learn, because those are the real life skills most of us develop in our public school experience. It’s those skills that take us into our post secondary education or job sites and it’s those skills we practice daily that get us the knowledge that’s most applicable for us.

So on the days I’m frustrated when J forgets where his gastrocnemius muscle is (ps, it’s not in your stomach like you’d think) when he absolutely knew where it was the day before I try not to get discouraged. Because in the end, learning to learn is a process. And that’s a whole lesson in itself.

Reconciling the Present with the Future

I feel like J is always more than an arms length away from fully understanding him.

I think it’s almost impossible as a parent with a special needs child to not be constantly thinking about the future. I’ve been guilty a million times over. I’ve kept a running list of potential professions for J since he was 5.

-At 5 I thought he might have a potential career as a mail carrier. He created mental maps and physical maps of the neighborhood constantly, complete with Christmas lights, basketball hoops, and flags. The only big hang-up was dogs. At that time, J was terrified of dogs.

-I’ve gone back and forth on the idea of a grocery store bagger or even cashier. It’s a low skill job, and the days I feel like he’s failing dismally in academic areas, this is the job that comes to mind. But it’s not the perfect one either. At 7 he would have meltdowns if he saw people with freckles. He’s over that now, but he gets fidgety over spellings and numbers. Would he have a meltdown if he saw a name or a brand with a “misspelled” name? If a total rang up with a “bad number?”

-At 10 I thought he might have a future as a bus driver. The driver on my route to work was definitely on the spectrum.  I learned a new obscure fact about the Beatles every day. If I was lucky he’d mix it up with some Buddy Holly trivia. But would J ever be able to learn how to drive? Would his brain blow up if he couldn’t hit the stops on time?

I keep a list of a dozen possible professions for J in my head. I’ve come up with stenographer, and proofreader or copyeditor. I’ve come up with the possibility of community college or a late entry to college (as a nontraditional student at 30 something. I had a student once in one of my classes who started college for the first time at 35 because of her anxiety issues). I keep the possibilities filed away because I want to make sure that once J graduates from high school, we’ll be able to find a place for him.

This week we his future was lightly touched upon at parent teacher conferences. I got to sit down with each of J’s three core teachers and listen to how they see J, how they’re trying to reach him on a relational level, and how they’re trying to reach him at an academic level. The question on everyone’s mind is, “how do I know if what we’re teaching J is what J needs?” What will he need to succeed in the future?

The answer is I don’t know. Do we push the more complicated steps in algebra when he’s frustrated with the first steps of algebra? Does he really need to know the pythagorean theorem or not? In reality, the answer is probably no. He will probably get along fine with a more “applied math” approach. In fact, I have gotten through life with just “applied math” skills. I have an MFA and not once have I had to graph an equation or use the pythagorean theorem since my first year as an undergraduate. I work at a university and can function just fine without the “higher math” in my life.

Right now I feel that it’s important to keep trying though. It’s by throwing things at J that we can find out what J is good at and not good at, because the truth is I really have no idea. We can see where his interests are and how to push him in those areas. He might be terrible at algebra but really good at geometry. He may be terrible at reading comprehension but a whiz at grammar and usage.

The more I try to plan J’s future out, the more I try to determine what he’s good at and not good at, the more I realize it’s a futile waste of my energy.  He is always changing and progressing–dramatically sometimes. Strengths come out of nowhere. Two years ago, J became obsessed with Presidents of the United States. He knows the order of the 44 presidents starting with George Washington forward and can do it from Barack Obama backward. He knows when they were all born, died, how long their terms were, when their terms were. He just picked it up and he’s been on fire about it ever since.

This year it’s been the same way with geography. He knows almost every capital city of every country on this planet.He’s just started World Language Survey and within 2 days he could identify all 16 phrases—including differentiating between Arabic and Urdu—and I know it’s because of his interest in countries that he’s interested in what is spoken in different countries. We’re only a couple of weeks in—I don’t know how he’ll pick up new languages—but he’s incredibly smart at English grammar and usage. At the same time, he could be terrible and another language’s grammar and usage. I don’t know, but I’m glad we’re giving him a shot in World Languages.

Academically, he’s good at memorization. He’s bad with abstract concepts. It’s easy to feel discouraged and feel like he’s really “learning something” when he can’t yet apply a lot of his knowledge.

Temple Grandin 2013

When Temple Grandin (an autistic woman and professor and Colorado State University in Animal Science and who also swears off Algebra ;)) came to Fargo back in 2013, one of the things she said that stuck out to me was, “It’s not just memorization. It start’s that way. The more they get out and learn specific examples, it builds their Google base.” Being exposed to those concepts–even if he doesn’t understand them all, builds his Google base.

She also talked about  starting with “areas of strength” and spreading out from there. J loves maps—especially Africa. That’s a bridge to vocabulary words in his unit that have more social constructs around them. I really believe the more times he hears the word, “refugee, Apartheid, push and pull factors, colonization” at home or at school, the bigger we’re building that Google base. It will be there ready to access when he’s able to figure it out.

There’s no way to know an autistic child’s threshold for learning and growth—which gives you hope when things get rough. But in the back of your mind you are always terrified of failing them because you don’t know how far they can go if they have the chance. You don’t know how much to push or if it’s too much. You see stories like Carly Fleischmann‘s or Martin Pistorius‘s and you’re scared to stop pushing. I felt that from the teachers on conference night. I know it well. I think about it every day too.

You can watch Carly’s amazing story here:

So I keep monitoring, pushing and engaging him. I’m asking his teachers to keep doing the same. I keep that list of potential professions running through my head but in reality I can’t really plan his life out for him at this point. He changes so quickly. And the world is changing just as quickly too. Well educated millennials can’t get jobs right now. Technology is also eliminating jobs. Even if he were “neuro-typical” I couldn’t plan and predict his life for him.

For now, I think the only plan to go in is this: make him the best person he can be today.

 

This Mid-Semester Slump

The curse of daylight savings means that the sun is down around 5 here…but it also means the pretty lights get turned on when you head downtown for an early dinner.

This past week was sort of a bummer week for my middle school kiddos.

After two months of working really hard, J started up with some disruptive behaviors at school again. We still aren’t sure why; we’re still trying to figure that out. His principal, teachers, paras, and Steve and I have tried to pool ideas of what it might be. Have there been any changes in routine? Could his mouth be bothering him? (he gnaws cankers into his cheeks and lip like nobody’s business) Could it be daylight savings? (I swear it’s dark by 5 here in Fargo) We’re coming up on the holidays (and once again a change in routine) could it be that? Or maybe he’s being a middle schooler trying to test the limits. Maybe he’s just being obstinate and defiant.

With J it’s never a controlled experiment. The variables are constantly changing. Which makes it so hard to find a cause.

By Thursday, W had problems of her own. When I picked her up, she plunked down in the back seat, sniffing snot and squeezing the tears back into her eyes.

“Mom, they took away 6-2’s personal devices [aka personal laptops],” she said between sobs. “I’ve held my tears in all day, but I’m just so mad!”

“What do you mean?” I asked, trying to be sympathetic. Honestly I could care less. Sometimes I wish my kids didn’t have technology accessible to them at all times.

“They caught some kids being on websites they shouldn’t be on.”

“Yeah?” Once again I said, trying to sound sympathetic, though taking kids’ devices away for doing inappopriate things sounds pretty legit to me.

“It’s just a few kids,” she said getting worked up again. “And now we all have to pay for it. It’s going to be so embarrassing when we show up to other classes and the other sixth grade teams have their devices and we don’t.”

“It’ll be a good opportunity to learn and do things without a computer. When I was your age I had to look up everything in the library.”

I knew as soon as I said it that W would think I’m an ancient dinosaur.

Friday W plopped in the car again, steaming mad, holding back sniffles again. “The principal came in to talk to the 6ths graders. You’re not supposed to share locker combinations with anyone, but people did and now things are getting stolen. He said that this is middle school and just because someone is your friend one week doesn’t mean they’ll be your friend the next week.”

“Okay,” I thought. That’s actually some pretty sage advice.

“And then our other teacher said we were slobs because we never cleaned up after ourselves!”

Like I said, it’s been a rough week for the Becks on the school front.

I realized that W–and possibly J, and probably the whole staff at my kids’ middle school have hit the mid-semester slump. This is the first semester in 5 years that I haven’t been an adjunct at one of the universities here, but every semester for the last 5 years, at about this time (those weeks leading up to Thanksgiving) I’ve experienced the mid-semester slump. Tough times for administration, tough times for the teachers, tough times for the students.

The mid-semester slump where the honeymoon with your students is over, and the feeling is mutual on their end. You’re counting down the weeks until the end of semester, and you’re trying to keep that vigor and passion for your subject even though they’re half awake and attendance is spotty because of pressures from other classes. Out of nowhere you have students showing up during your office hours—office hours you’re desperately trying to keep open so you can catch up on grading. These are the students that haven’t attended your class since the third week of the semester, and even though your grades aren’t up-to-date on Blackboard, you know that they’re failing your class now and they will fail your class by the end of the semester. You have to break the news to them—the news they already know. Sometimes they’ll even say, “If I don’t pass your class, Ms. Beck, I’ll be kicked out of school.” And even though it’s not your fault they’re failing your class, you feel like an awful person, and you hope they don’t show up during the last few days of the semester to fill out an SROI (a student evaluation of the instructor’s teaching abilities) because you don’t want them filling it out while they’re still mad at you for not passing them.

This week made me really appreciate what the teachers and staff do for my kids and their educational endeavors. Being a teacher is hard.  I really really appreciate what they have to put up with.

And because I’m frustrated with J right now, I appreciate them even more. I appreciate it when after we have an incident de-briefing, they tell me that they still love my kid and that we’ll figure this out.

Saturday night, decided to try to take a break from the slump. Steve was in Las Vegas for a work conference, so it was just me and the kids. We went out to eat. We came home and had ice cream.

Dinner at Sweeto Burrito. To ease the slump.

 

The kids have two days of school and then it’s a break for Thanksgiving and then a few more weeks until winter break. Like I tell J when we’re running and it’s getting tough: “We’ve got this. This won’t last forever.”