First Day of School

Yesterday was Liam's first day of second grade and it seems to have gone very well. He came home happy and had good behavior all afternoon and evening. His favorite part of the day was a visit from some surprise guests. A couple of sixth-grade girls had taken an interest in Liam last year and two of them even came to his birthday party, as I mentioned in that post. He talked about them all summer and kept asking me to call them for playdates, but I didn't want to bother them. He had asked about them recently and I said, "Buddy, they're going on to middle school. I don't think you're going to see them again." Apparently, I was wrong. "His" girls showed up at the school yesterday morning to see him. He must have been ecstatic. Rob said he was so happy he couldn't even look at them. My gratitude goes out to these extraordinary young ladies who would take the time to make a little boy's first day of school extra-special.

The R Word

I was going to stay out of this particular fracas, as it seemed like the kind of thing that didn't need any more attention paid to it. A lot of the blogs I read have weighed in on the issue, which is whether or not to boycott Ben Stiller's new film, Tropic Thunder. (I won't link to it for reasons made obvious later.)

Then I read some of the comments on an entertainment gossip site. The majority of comments were supportive of the film. The clearly intelligent, informed and sensitive readers of Perez Hilton offered up such wisdom as "I still want to see it. I love Ben Stiller. Im sure its not that bad. Those people need to quit being so friggin sensitive. " and "iM SEEING IT! PEOPLE ARE jUST TOO DAMN SENSiTiVE NOW DAYS!" [sic]

Hmmm. Food for thought, most definitely. Granted, I have not seen the film. What I do know is that Stiller's character in Tropic Thunder, an actor, attempts to play a person with a cognitive disability in order to secure an academy award nomination. Said character is referred to as a "retard" and the expression "Never go full retard" is used in the film. Those are the facts.

Mr. Stiller and his supporters have claimed that if you don't think it's funny, you are not clever enough to get the joke--that he's making fun of people who don't understand disability. High concept comedy, indeed. That cleverness and "free speech" appear to cloak Mr. Stiller in Teflon. Some of us are clever enough, however, to see that what really protects Mr. Stiller is that most people in this country do not care enough about the rights of the disabled to make a fuss about this issue. The rest of us are "too sensitive". Mr. Stiller and others are able to freely ridicule people with developmental disabilities because it is the last publicly acceptable prejudice in our society.

Now let's consider another word that has a tumultuous history in this country--the N word. I won't write or say it. I can barely even think it, but you know the word I mean.

This word was developed by oppressors to keep another group of people down; to keep them in their place. It was born of hate, ignorance and fear. It was (and is) used to insult, to demean, and to assign inferiority.

Can we not say the same things about the R word?

A funny thing happens when an oppressed group begins to take back its power. Members of the group take ownership of the words that were used against them. We have seen it happen with the N word and with "queer". Whether or not black people should use the N word is not for me to debate, as I am white. I only know I will not use it and will make my feelings clear if people use it in my presence.

It will be a happy day if people with disabilities gain the rights and privileges of the non-disabled, if they ever are accepted into mainstream society without fear, ignorance or shame. Perhaps on that day, they can claim the R word for their very own. Until then, do I think people like Mr. Stiller should be banned from using it? No. But I will vote with my wallet and not see his film. And I will hope and pray for the day when a movie that uses the word "retard" won't get made at all--because no one will think it's funny.

One of the Good Ones

Yesterday was Liam's last day at surf camp. I got an ebullient report from his aide, who said he actually rode the board on his knees for awhile. He had behaved all week to earn nail polish--two of the counselors let him paint their nails. I took photos of him and his aide and got her information to keep in touch. She was a large part of why his experience was so awesome the last two years. She even loved him through the rough time he went through last summer.

We had been carpooling with another little boy and Liam tried so hard to engage this kid in conversation. He asked him appropriate questions in the car, but didn't get much of a response. The other boy is very verbal and social, but, like Liam, seems to prefer adult contact. He stayed for awhile to play after camp and Liam was trying to interact with him. He was showing him his toys and telling stories about them. I told him later what a good job he did. It was hard to watch him put himself out there and not get reciprocation. The other kid was doing the best he could, though.

After that long, exciting day, I did something that probably wasn't smart--I dragged Liam to the grocery store with me while Zoe was at soccer practice. I couldn't have been more surprised by his behavior in the store! He stayed next to me, listened, helped me pick out groceries and kept his hands to himself! He carried one of the grocery bags and put it in the car for me. I was so thrilled that I bought him an over-priced, eco-friendly lunchbox. All afternoon he was chatty and sweet, speaking clearly and appropriately. There was little to no perseveration. On the way home from the store I told Bee how good his behavior was. He said, "That is a lot of responsibility."

Yes. It is.

When You Know Better, You Do Better

That's what Oprah says and she is right. Yesterday Liam came home from camp very agitated and anxious. The aide had said he threw a tantrum when she tried to get him on the surfboard. All afternoon, he obsessed about camp for next year: could he take music camp? was he the right age for cooking camp? soccer camp? I kept telling him not to worry about it, it's a year away, let's focus on the present. He followed me into the office and asked me to make a list of camps for him, still very distressed. Finally, in my brain a bell went off.

"Liam," I asked, "Do you like surf camp?" "I like camp," he said clearly and immediately, "but I don't like surfing." "OK," I said, "Tomorrow you don't have to surf. No surfing unless you want to. You can play in the waves or do something else. Is that ok?" "Yes," he said, "But I won't earn Max and Ruby." "You will," I told him, "I will write a note saying you don't have to surf. Only if you want to." From that moment on he was fine for the rest of the evening. This afternoon his aide said he had a much better day, was calm and happpy.

Lesson: listen to what he says, even if it sounds like nonsense. When I ask the right questions, he gives me the answers.

First Day of Camp

I feel compelled to write something positive after the recent upleasantness. Today was Liam's first day of surf camp. This is the same surf camp he did last year that is sponsored by the ASA and it is wonderful. He has been talking about it for a year. He gets one-on-one surfing and other activities on the beach with an aide who is an ABA-trained surf and swim instructor. This year, they even threw in a wetsuit. This is one reason why I love the ASA. They are the only autism-related organization who has helped us in any real way.

We requested the same aide Liam had last year and he did get her. She was so happy to see him. I had to spend 4 hours in the car today and $40 on gas, but it is worth it. (I met another mom from our area and we are going to carpool for the rest of the week.) Liam's aide said he did very well today. He struggled on the surfboard but played in the waves for two hours. I accidently showed up an hour early (why, God, why?) so Liam and I walked along the Mission Beach boardwalk. He was very happy and chatty, asking questions about everything he saw.
This afternoon, he saw me eating one of my Weight Watcher's ice cream bars (I don't tell the kids that I diet, but they know certain foods are "Mama's") and he said, "You are eating your ice cream bar. Eat it. Bite it. It is for you only."

Two Moms at the Pool

I try to avoid angry diatribes, but there are times when nothing else will do.
To the Two Moms at the Pool Discussing Your Gifted Children:

I am sorry to have eavesdropped on your conversation. I mean that. I really wish I had not overheard it, but you were in the lounge chairs next to me and I had no choice. For reasons described below, I decided against publicly chastising you, so here are the things I would have (should have?) said.

1. Re-think the meaning of the word "gifted" and how you use it. I believe all children are a gift to us and each have their own gifts to offer. I'm guessing your meaning of "gifted" is that your child earns high grades and excels at everything he or she does. Your conversation indicated as much. That would describe the majority of the children in this affluent community. It's likely that yours are not significantly smarter than most of their classmates. If your children are, as you claim, gifted, why wouldn't they be? They are white and upper middle class. They get at least three nutritious (possibly organic) meals every day, plus the snacks you tote to all of their activities. They have premium medical care. They are chauffered to violin, tennis, gymnastics, private tutoring, etc. in safe, air-conditioned gas-guzzling vehicles with proper safety restraints. You yourself are college-educated and provide every enrichment that money can buy. You have stayed home with them full-time since they were born. It's kind of hard not to excel in a situation in which . . .

2. . . .being "gifted" is a problem?? Your conversation was a general complaint about how difficult it is to procure an educational program worthy of your gifted child. If that issue is worth wasting breath and brain cells on, then I would suggest you get something resembling a life. That may involve educating yourself about actual issues that present problems for actual humans.

3. Before you make the statement "If only the district spent as much money on our kids as those special needs kids", look around. Make sure you are completely alone or that no one can hear you. Some people might find your statement extremely offensive. You clearly know nothing about having a "special needs" child. You have no clue how much money the district spends on a special needs child. I don't even know that. It isn't relevant to your complaint. Your statement indicates that you believe your child needs as much help as my child does. I don't know whether to laugh or cry about that. I decided not to break all this down for you publicly because my kids were with me and I just didn't have the energy to explain ignorance and self-absorption on that level. Also, I might have come off as crazy. So I'll have to vent in this forum that you'll never see because it's for all those expensive special needs kids who take money away from your poor, suffering gifted kid, whom I'm sure will end up curing cancer or maybe the dreaded autism.

4. Kiss my ass.