"I can explain it for you, but I can't understand it for you." Loesje

My tribute to her is about raising children. I love my son, and I love my mother. She always did a whole lot of interesting things while I was a child and she has continued to do so. We weren't the focal part of her life as much as we were companions welcomed for the journey. We were there. We'll be back. There are the marks of generations of past people there as well as a welcoming spot for the people who are yet to come.

If parents have nothing to do when their children leave, what were they doing while the children were there?

On that note,

"Looking around myself and seeing an "empty nest" is as hard to imagine as looking in a mirror and seeing nobody's reflection." JulieB

"The early bird gets the worm, but the second mouse gets the cheese" Jon Hammond

Updated for our times -- the Rules for Radicals by Saul Alinsky for my friends who deal with bureaucracy and other cultural standoffs.

1. Power is what you have *and* what onlookers *and* your opposition thinks you have.

2. Never go outside of your experience. The result is confusion, doubt, and retreat.

3. Wherever possible go outside of the experience of the opposition. Here you want to cause confusion, doubt, and retreat.

4. Make the opposition live up to their own book of rules.

5. Humor is our most potent resource. It is almost impossible to counterattack someone's sense of mirth. Also it unsteadies the opposition who then react to your advantage.

6. A good tactic is one that you enjoy. If you are not having a ball doing it, there is something wrong with the tactic.

7. A tactic that drags on too long becomes a drag. People can sustain enthusiastic interest in any issue for only a limited time, after which it becomes a ritualistic commitment.

8. Keep the pressure on, with different tactics and actions, keep on learning and reaching out and recruit everything that happens over to your side of the understanding.

9. The threat is usually more terrifying than the thing itself.

10. Keep the pressure on. Maintain a constant pressure on the opposition. Sometimes the most effective action is simply failing to leave. The USSR simply wasn't there one morning. Learn from this.

11. If you push a negative hard and deep enough it will break through into its counterside; this is based on the principle that every positive has its negative. Read Copy This! for practical details.

12. The price of a successful attack is a constructive alternative. You have to know what to say when your opponent asks you, "If you're so smart, what would you do?"

13. Pick your target, freeze it, personalize it, and polarize it. Don't attack an abstract such as a corporation. Identify a responsible individual and ignore attempts to shift or spread the blame.
The personal is political.

And do visit Jon, he's got a marvelous spirit, bound to cheer you:

http://www.jonhammondband.com/

Happy Thanksgiving!

JulieB

The Great Money Trick

Nicholas and I found this on the Internet.
http://www.avine.co.uk/index.php?page=pages/comic_rtp1.htm

It's a cartoon version of Tressel's "Great Money Trick" and a wonderful point to debate with the sort of learner who needs to talk about everything, every step, over and over again.

JulieB

I want to take today's spot to point out
http://www.modernedrefugees.blogspot.com/

This was pretty much my own story -- at Potsdam College, no less. I ended up after having tried my best feeling responsible for having failed rather than understanding that college had failed me.

If people who are refugees from the k-12 system and people who are refugees from the college system want to compare notes and support each other we may be able to solve the problem, heal ourselves and prevent the problem from reaching our children.

Here's to a better world -- without fear, poverty, and blaming of the victim.


JulieB

The Discovery, Part 2

Of course I had to run more of my experiments and so I followed up with drawing a simple smiley face. I laid the paper next to Jacob with pen and walked away. This time I would really be given a surprise. I came back and he had outdone me. He did not simply imitate. The face he had drawn had detail. It had hair and some sort of glasses. I lovingly scolded, "You stinker! You know how to draw!" Prior to the discovery he had shown no interest in drawing whatsoever. Or he simply did not wish to show us. His sole creative accomplishment had been but a single sheet of construction paper, covered with blue scribbles. I proudly labeled it "BLUE" and had mounted it above his crib. But now, crayons and paper were being used with wild abandon. We would need to buy reams of paper just to keep up with his newfound passion.


What Jacob would then draw after those glorious moments of the discovery was more than astounding. Jacob instinctually understood perspective from the beginning. Houses, igloos, and churches are all equally drawn with depth and precision. Images flow onto the paper effortlessly and with no planning or speculation. At first his artistic fascinations primarily consist of inanimate objects such as buildingsand trains. Later he would begin to draw people and animals, depicting them from his unique perspective. His caricatures are full of personality and express a wide range of human emotions. I see my son in these drawings, his passion pouring out of a black stub of a crayon. With the same flourish of his small hands he is able to draw a powerful locomotive or show awareness of the social intricacies of a birthday party.


Jacob still hides himself. It is quite often difficult for anyone to get physically near him as he draws. There are times he will rip up a creation as soon as it is finished, as though to disallow any attention to his talents. If he does not shred them, he crumples them into paperballs, which he tosses haphazardly over his shoulder onto the floor. I lovingly rush in to save them, smoothing out wrinkles and mending any tears with tape. Sometimes he catches me and glares with disapproval.


Then there are the glorious times when Jacob willingly shares himself with me. Through his art we are able to have wordless conversations. What he is unable to express through words, he is able to draw. When he wanted to go strawberry picking, for example, he did not use words to convey his wishes. He drew them instead. He carefully laid out a series of pictures upon my kitchen floor. A drawing of a strawberry, a church we would see within view of the strawberry field, and a basket, clearly told a story of his desire. In comparison, words would not have given me such a rich portrait of Jacob's world. And a beautifulworld it is, complete with giant pocked strawberries and the majestic pillars of a beloved church.


Discovery can sometimes come on the heels of despair. On the day that my son was diagnosed I could only focus upon the limitations the autism label would bestow. I was half convinced that Jacob was a walking checklist of aberrant behaviors, or that he could be defined by a lack of skills he was thought to never master. I felt the weight of hopelessness, wondering if I could ever hope to reach my son. Yet something told me I could find him beyond the confines of any label. I sought to find the boy I knew, the boy I wanted and needed to love. A simple circle became a symbol of hope. He drew a circle and let me in.

Thank you Nancy, mother of nearly ten year old Jacob for the conclusion of this story!

JulieB

The Discovery

I remember staring at the light pouring in through the blinds of the small room. My son, Jacob, sits across from the therapist who is asking him a series of questions he does not understand. A child's wooden table separates them. The therapist takes a crayon and draws a simple shape upon a piece of paper, a circle. She then hands the crayon to Jacob and asks him to draw another circle. When the crayon touches his hand he allows it to fall. He then ignites with energy as he bounds from his chair. He giggles to himself as he heads towards the light and to the blinds.


Jacob has no interest in responding to the therapist's gentle suggestions. He has found rapture in pulling up and down on the blind. He continues this play despite her attempts to call his name. I too call his name and there is no response. I knew there would be none. There are several moments of silence except for the sound of the rise and fall of the blind. The therapist's eyes meet mine briefly and then she looks away. I can see her visibly shrinking.


I ask my question with a cool deliberation. "Is what we are seeing today, could this be caused by a problem with his hearing?" Already knowing the answer, my heart is sinking into my gut. "No," she responds quietly but clearly. It is the moment of no return. It is the time where I am forced to face the reality that this is no hearing loss or simple speech deficit.
This is something far more serious than even my imagination will allow.


Shortly after his third birthday Jacob is diagnosed with autism.


There was a period of time following the diagnosis where I had tore-frame everything I thought I had known. I felt like we had been living some great lie. Where was the child who existed in my mind's eye? Where was the boy who would call out "Mommy" when he needed a hug? Where was the boy who would squabble with his brother or pick me a dandelion bouquet? These had been but fleeting images in my mind, expectations of how Jacob might grow and develop as any other boy.


But Jacob is not like any other boy. Jacob is different. And even before the diagnosis I had sensed this. When he was a baby I would look at him and think, "He sees the world in a different way from everyone else." I would look into his eyes searching for clues as to what I was instinctually sensing. I knew there was something. I just didn't have a name for it. I wondered what unseen thing would capture his unbreakable gaze. Lights and colors seemed to dazzle him to the point of such intense focus that his eyes would cross. He seemed perpetually in awe of his surroundings, so much so, that at times he looked straight through me. I believed he was seeing a beauty that nobody else could see. I wanted to see it too. I wanted to gain entrance into his world. But how? The answer would come from a most unexpected source.


I kept re-playing the scene from the testing room in my mind. Jacob had failed to respond but did that necessarily mean that he was incapable of doing what he had been asked? There was a part of me that was desperate to see him draw that circle. I wanted some tangible proof that he could grow beyond the confines of this aberrant label. It was selfish but I wanted to feel hope, not just for him but for me. Iwanted validation for what my instincts told me about my son, that he was capable, that he could learn, and could respond. In my great needto find the truth about my son, I began to read voraciously. When thehouse was still and everyone was asleep, I read everything I couldabout autism. It was during my late night reading binges that I found a gateway to understanding my son. I read that some people with autism hide their talents and abilities. I had seen this very trait in Jacob.


When Jacob turned two, he began to recite the entire alphabet, seemingly out of the blue. I caught him saying it to himself while facing the door to his closet. I had no idea he had been learning and practicing, as I had never heard him say a single letter. Even more astounding is the fact that he only had about ten words in his entire vocabulary at that time.
This skill seemed to emerge out of nothingness. He was learning, even if I was not there to witness it. Yet why would he not wish to share his desire to learn with the people who could help him? When he finally did share his ability, he did so by burrowing his face into my lap so Icould not see his face. Only then, when I could not look at him, did he recite the alphabet in my presence.


As I thought about it, it made sense. My efforts to connect with Jacob were often thwarted by what I felt to be his fear of exposure. Looking into my eyes seemed more than painful for him. If I reached out to touch him, he would recoil or run away. Sharing himself in any way caused anxiety and the creation of physical and psychological barriers. There was no intent on his part to cause others pain from this seeming rejection of human contact. Jacob was only protecting himself. I surmised that for him, typical human connection was like shining a strong light into his eyes, rather like some sort of interrogation. Anyone would instinctively shield their eyes and turn away to avoid the blinding glare.


I kept reading, absorbing the information, but more importantly, searching for ways that I might reach my son. The literature is full of examples of children with autism who hide their talents and capabilities. But how could I reach Jacob? Then I found a passage describing one mother's solution. She would present her daughter with a task and then leave, allowing her child to work alone. It was when her daughter knew she was not being watched or observed that she would demonstrate her knowledge and skills. My mind began exploring the possibilities of seeing if this would hold true for Jacob as well. I was determined to try. I would wait until morning and we would try the circle test again.


Armed with paper and pencil in hand, I drew four circles on a sheet of paper and showed my efforts to Jacob. I shook my head negatively, thinking that there was no chance that Jacob would understand or care to oblige me by drawing another circle. I prepared myself for disappointment. I gave the paper to him while he was sitting in a big easy chair, his small legs dangling. I placed the pencil beside him and gave him the directions to draw another circle. I left him, closed my eyes, and waited for about three minutes. It was all I could stand.


I came back and he was still sitting there staring and making babbling sounds as though he had not looked at all at the paper. My heart was sinking until I looked. And there it was! My hope! That fifth circle was there! I just about cried. I swooped him up like some Tiny Tim and I hugged up his resisting body. I am sure he was unaware of themeaning of his small but magnificent gesture.

He could draw the d*mn circle.

------------------------------------------------------------part two...coming up!

Guest writer today is Diane, mother to almost ten year old Jacob.
Thank you so much for sharing!

JulieB

The Great, Pagan C.S. Lewis.

The short answer is that you can get the same stew with or without putting in salt -- salt fills the mouth but not the belly.


My mother grew up on the C.S. Lewis versions with the full, greek god interactions within the books -- not all that different a word count but having them out is like removing the salt from stew. Maybe even the salt from a yeast bread recipe. C.S. Lewis as written was not anything all that acceptable to Evangelicals, and quite acceptable to my family -- with our contented atheist core.

If the upcoming film is based on the spirit of the original books it should be one magnificent mindride.

If you all can get a copy of an older version, either American or British,you are in for a real treat IMHO. The version before the nuns cleaned up the 'scary' parts.

The Scholastic version is like a great beef stew without salt, which is what I've learned to expect from textbookised reading anyhow. Bowdlerised, sanitised classics might be better for you (though I doubt it) but in reading them you cannot shake the feeling that you are somehow missing the whole point.

C.S. Lewis -- I love you. I love you like salt.

JulieB

Credit Scene Investigator

No one wants their house to burn, but sensible people plan for it. No one wants trouble with the law, but sensible people plan for that, too.

We even find the situation entertaining -- one of my son's favorite shows is CSI -- as he watches he learns what the culture teaches about crime, the legal system, how the innocent and the guilty are expected to behave.

You can find a thousand sites discussing where CSI "went fiction" and true crime material is a big, big seller.

Credit and loans as they exist today are new-ish, like electric wiring in houses -- people have always built shelter, but there are some a new twists.

What would I put on my Credit Scene Investigator show, so every teenage kid could know in a fun way what to do?

1. It is not wise to take financial instruction from Credit Collector personnel. They often do not know the laws and procedures, and do have other motives besides being helpful to you. If you get the call you will be looking for someone who cares more about your interests than they do about their commission. I'm in the process of seeing if the the collector personel can legally lie to their cases outside of what the laws restricting them to obtain personal information.

I don't know any blunter way to say that these people are *not* held to the rule "If you are asked for money and you have some, you have to share it" that many young people and others have had patiently taught them. This is not that sort of situation.

2. Collect the evidence. Remember white phosphorus. The US officials denied until presented with proof. It doesn't matter who loses their temper, who feels vindicated and who is stronger. The evidence doesn't lie. Collect within the law if possible. Remember that though they are bound by the federal Fair Debt Collection Practices Act (FDCPA) and other laws it's in their best interest to see that law as a tightrope, and like with the exploding gas tanks on Ford Pintos of a time before you, they've calculated the costs of going over that line, done a risk assessment. You should consider doing the same. Here's a site on the laws that bind them: http://www.privacyrights.org/fs/fs27-debtcoll.htm

You should go there, know them just like you should own a fire alarm and keep the batteries fresh, have a plan. Having a plan for fire isn't welcoming disaster, it's planning ahead to save your life. Feel very patriotic and civic minded during a Credit Disaster Drill, just as you would during a fire drill. Maybe a little self concious and over-protective, but that's the whole point -- you are planning to thrive. Better to take a few minutes to know what you may never need than be caught in your own personal "Katrina".

3. The court of public opinion is your very best friend, just like on CSI. Being well known and credible beforehand is a really big plus. That way you can talk to more people faster than they can. If you weren't well known and credible beforehand this is a great time to start making friends and influencing people. I didn't learn this as a scummy debt dodger, I learned this as a homeschooling mother dealing with the educational establishment. People are your best allies at a time like this. People will empathise with you. You need others to help you maintain your confidence.

4. Something else I learned as a homeschooling activist -- the squeaky wheel gets the grease. People don't become homeschoolers because they had always planned to be, most people do it to adress something that they have experienced or can plainly see that is wrong with the society where they are raising children. They take in on themselves to find a better way. This is intimate, as it's your money they are talking about. Well, it was intimate because Nicholas was my baby. This is both intensely personal and part of something greater.

Get out there and squeak, you all. You may feel like the only one in the world, but trust me, you have company.

JulieB

Money, and its Attractants

Anyone who has had more than one generation in her family familiar with Tressel ("The Ragged Trousered Philanthropist") has heard generations of talk about how to handle money, who handles it, and why.

On one side of the conversation there was my father -- he looked at life the way most of my community growing up did. http://www.ahaprocess.com/ talks about generational poverty, and how resources are handled.

My mother eloped with him. She came from the world that talked about resources as "compensation". I went through the school system, which mostly didn't talk about money at all.

College. Bad experience. Tried to put it behind me. So, I got the surprise of my life when out of the blue an extremely insulting, very personal man called on my phone, talked to my sixteen year old son for a while, then had my son hand the phone to me.

This is in the grey area as far as legality is concerned, and the appropriate people have been notified about the whole thing. Collection agencies aren't supposed to pretend to be someone's friend to reach their targets.

I didn't have a lot of time to figure out just what sort of problems was somewhere down the road. I asked over and over again for the man (his name is still not clear) to send written information, and he kept on telling me that I didn't deserve information, not until I promised to send him money. I was quite sure this guy was some sort of spoofer. I thought to myself, what a terrible job -- to have conversations like this with people you have to trick to reach. I didn't hang up on him. I'll have to see from the phone bill what the exact number of minutes this unhappy man used up, though I have a really good estimation. At long last he thanked me for being so cooperative, and hung up.

He had hit every one of Ruby Payne's cultural notes on money handling in the generationally poor like he had been trained to dig for them -- especially the cardinal rule -- "If you ask me for money and I have some, I must share it with you." He had gone over and commanded me to ask all my social contacts for money, probably knowing this rule.

I made ready to track this problem down. I went to school in the eighties, this was a big surprise but not something that was going to turn around on a dime.

Ironically, SUNY Potsdam also called, begging for money, some sort of fund raiser. I wondered just how much of those fancy buildings came from the poor people who had gone to their school, not benefited, and were sent out by people like my phone goon to collect money not only from them but also anyone who knew them. Would SUNY care? If I were them I'd be really embarrassed to have someone like that on their payroll.

The man called up later. He called up ruder, and angrier. I kept on wondering what his family and any kids he might have would think if they could hear him talk this way. I wondered if they knew what he did for a living. After another extremely long stretch of time he still refused to send me any written material, but he did give me some websites, enough so that I could determine that this was not a spoof, SUNY Potsdam really did hire him.

I kept my mind from fossilising by popping over to his company's website -- http://www.generalrevenue.com/ and made a few estimates about how much commission this man was making. He gets a 401 K, even. Nice for him and his. I'm wondering what sort of person gets attracted to this job, and I figure its probably the sort who is chased by his own financial demons.

After another long and frustrating conversation he hangs up on me. Or maybe the line goes dead; I'm already trying to be decent about this for him, after all there's nothing I can think of that would leverage me into doing his job. He's like a prison employee -- the prisoners have release dates. You can't get paroled from your job.

The next day I get a call from http://www.generalrevenue.com/ from someone claiming to be rude guy's supervisor. She's not giving out his name either though I have hers. She's very clear that I should deal with only her and makes certain I have her exchange written down. I ask her to listen to rude guy's phone tapes, as I have and he's clearly outside of the law. She called late at night time, so her 'good cop' stance is a bit less than perfect She said a whole bunch of different things that I hope she didn't get trained to do, but for me the kicker is the closing line -- from a supervisior, or someone claiming to be one: "Do anything you have to. Steal if need be. Just get the money."

SUNY Potsdam sent me more letters asking for money, proclaiming how willing people are to pay in. I wonder how much misery Potsdam is buying through agencies like this. Well, classmates and administration, here's your starting point. You should really find out.

What a public education this is!


Here's a very interesting social disconnect -- everyone knows about and reviles collection agencies. But look at what their PR people like to do for publicity:

General Revenue Corporation Raises Nearly $100,000 Through Local, Regional Fundraising Efforts http://www.collectionindustry.com/item/17739 General Revenue Corporation (GRC), the nation's largest university-focused collection agency along with The Sallie Mae Fund, the charitable organization sponsored by Sallie Mae today announced that they have generated nearly $100,000 through various fundraising initiatives in theCincinnati area. The money raised will benefit local non- profits along withthe American Red Cross. GRC employees pledged $5,000 and The Sallie Mae Fund donated an additional$12,000 in support of Families FORWARD, a non-profit agency providing services to help more than 1,200 Cincinnati children attend college. GRC adopted Families FORWARD as a corporate charity in 2004 and has also donated more than $38,000 to help the organization implement the GRC Arts &Humanities after- school program. "Through the generosity of General Revenue Corporation and The Sallie MaeFund, Families FORWARD's after-school music and art classes will enrich the lives of more than 550 students and their families," said Betti Hinton, President, Families FORWARD. GRC's 16th annual Golf Outing generated more than $40,000, including a$2,500 donation from The Sallie Mae Fund, for the LoveQuest Children's Foundation, a non-profit, public foundation dedicated to educating disabled children and adults about the medically acknowledged benefits of therapeutic horseback riding. Employees took part in raffles and volunteered to work theevent held at Beckett Ridge Country Club in West Chester, Ohio. In response to the devastation caused by Hurricane Katrina, GRC employees donated money and personal vacation days totaling more than $15,000. The Sallie Mae Fund matched this amount resulting in a total of more than $35,000 donated to the American Red Cross for Hurricane Katrina relief."We are an education and community-oriented company, first and foremost,"said Joe Fazzini, President, GRC. "I am delighted that our employees go the extra mile to give back."_______________________


I wonder how many people get ticked-off enough to sign up for news clipping services and begin watching the industry?

JulieB

Living Books and the Books We Live.

This month our family is reading "The Ragged Trousered Philanthropist" -- aka Marx guest stars on Monty Python. It's probably the only history changing social expose that will leave you laughing out loud, as well as having explodng pastors in it.
http://www.geocities.com/manchesterbranch/TRESSEL.html
http://www.duncanwil.co.uk/tre1.html

For all kinds of reasons I have a lot of mental energy floating around, so I started doing Nanowrimo today. Good way to write about what's going on while taking advantage of the only time of the year where there isn't a whole lot to do besides planning, plotting, and politicing.
http://www.nanowrimo.org

The working title is Noonie, the Succubus --- Magic with a Ye -Ye beat. I'm going to try to make it completely off the wall with a nod to Robert Asprin and Jo Clayton.

One generation plants the trees; another gets the shade. - Chinese Proverb

Passing on what my parents taught me and showing a good example is the best I can give Nicholas.

JulieB

Google -- Getting Better, My Wish List

Kids around the world and getting ready to fire up their lists to Santa. I wasn't that kind of kid, but if I was I would write and tell my list of desires to the people at Google.

They've treated me right over the years, even though we got off to a rocky start. I'm an organic gardener and was trying to find some rare heirloom tomatoes. Way, way back my very first request to Google was to find me "Polish Sausage Tomato".

I felt like I wanted to wash my eyes with Brillo. My first job at 18 had been in an adult movie theater and I still hadn't ever seen some of those images before. I actually squealed. Bringing the three guys running from the other room. Sending me in a blind panic towards the monitor button and blacking the screen before anyone could see.

To this day I have never gone back to look again, taking the route of growing the close taste alike "Striped Roman Candle".

Several years ago Google has seemingly licked the "sudden turn into red light district" problem with almost any search I've chosen to make. Even some of the trickier, actual PG-R searches I've done like "lipstick lesbian" have turned up actual pages of people talking about their own experiences as rather than a dive straight to the modern day version of the seedy, commercial part of town.

Searches like those containing "Jew" still have some problems, and Google is frank in stating that they know the issue, don't like it either, and are trying to figure out a way to make Google better.

Searches based around the word "Gypsy" in its various forms are also straight to the meat -- the first few results pages reach actual Romany people, clothes they would actually wear, some fantasy pages where gypsies seem to be as makebelieve as elves or dragons, and a few about a bug.

The first outreach site attempting to discuss the problems of Gypsies from outside of the community is reached on page 6, result 53 and is a comparatively harmless attempt to convert the gypsy people to the evangelical faith. Many, many pages of links later and we're still not presented as scary (i.e., kidnapping children or putting curses on people), nor is anyone passing around a hat to raise money to counter the gypsy threat to anyone's way of life. Very good work, Google team, however you do it.

Next I Googled "blind". First link -- the NFB. by the blind for the blind, proclaiming a "positive philosophy about blindness". I notice as I Google through that blindness is treated very much like an ethnic identity, with negative pages and pure profit pages few and far between links to the actual blind community.

I tried "deaf". Same thing, same blend of sites with perhaps an edgier flavor to them. No one who deals with disability on a regular basis will be likely to deny that, all else being equal, the deaf community is a trifle more assertive than the blind community is.

Next I tried "autistic"

~~~~~tilt~~~~~~~tilt~~~~~~tilt~~~~~~~


What gives, and what can be done to change these results? Page after page of big organisations out to save/help/change/rescue the families of people with autism. Page after page of supposed cures, and the dramatic badness of it all. Crisis written in hot pink marker.

This is just not my reality. To borrow a turn of phrase from the NFB, “The real problem of autism is not the distortion of social connections , but the misunderstanding and lack of information which exist.”

What would it take for sites like http://www.autistart.com

http://home.earthlink.net/~tammyglaser798/authome.html
or even http://www.autistics.org/ to make it to the top of Google's hit parade? It's not like we're not out there, we are.

I started this blog to get out the word for people who need to know in a hurry what the options are. I was really upset when I took a look at what the computer-minded mother of an autistic on Supernanny would find if she went on a web search, and I was also really dismayed that when I needed the sort of support I was used to finding at a click when blindsided by a collection agency call (more on that later) there was little to be found for the suddenly financially disabled.

For years I've been dealing with newcomers to the world of autism and been giving out the advice "Don't Google. You'll just get more upset. I'll send you links and other people to help you get a grip on this. Hang in there. It's not so bad as it sounds."

Now it seems that the help I need from the world out there is similarly out there, but only acessable through mentors, what my mother calls "speakeasy style research" and what others call "calling on the A team".

I wonder if the time has come to do this better.

Oh, Google-claus, could you help us? I know exactly what I want for Christmas and I promise to be very, very good!

JulieB

The NEW Refrigerator Mom, model no. aut2bhome

She's plugged in, turned on, and remains cool when the heat's on.

Although she may be 20 years older than the most popular model, she's still goingstrong-24/7.

Energy efficient, she's stocked with gf/cf goodies and acidophilus chasers.

An entire shelf is devoted to home school science projects-each one carefully labeled.

She's frost-free and still manages to make her own ice.

She carefully insulates her children from the harsh environment, while preserving their childhood.

She extends their very life, keeping it rich and peak-fresh.

Constantly introducing her family to new ingredients and simultaneously discarding foods past-its-prime, she balances her family's learning diet.

She offers illumination on demand only, never forcing her light into the eyes of an un-hungry (unprepared) child.

She recognizes that the times children require (educational) nourishment may not be on a fixed 3-a-day schedule, but instead comes in spurts (as does their physical growth) and even midnight snacks can become a temporary mainstay.

Likewise, she understands the value of holiday foods and appreciates the motivation treats supply.

She acknowledges that her children need to occasionally venture forth from her safe hold for mixing, combining, separating, and baking.

She knows they will return to her better for their adventures yet still in need of her care.

Her children know where to find her after the party ends --- in the kitchen, humming softly.

The NEW Refrigerator Mom, model no. aut2bhome:

She's not sub-zero, she's off the grid!



With hearty thanks to guest writer, the amazing Helen Fults!

JulieB

In Praise of Innocent Dependency
Or, why my favorite Narnia story is A Horse and His Boy

His eyes are grey and newborn blue, and when the light hits them just right flash iron green. His hair is red and that's by choice; if he didn't dye his color would be dark butterscotch. Either way his hair stands up in a Woody Woodpecker brush, and his beard, when he doesn't take time to shave, is curly.

He's like a wall; if I were to lean up against him my head would rest in the middle of his back. He's a black belt in Tae Kwon do, working hard for his second degree.

Nicholas always brings me to mind of a lion.

I remember the first lions I saw at the Staten Island Zoo. They spent the whole day pacing back and forth, periodically roaring, and the male lion on occasion would attempt to pee on you if you stood too close, or at least that's how I interpreted the behavior. I talked to the keepers often enough, who were experts on lions. They told me all about how they interacted, what sorts of needs lions had, and how tricky they were to control, how hard to outwit. The lions, you see, never went off duty. They had their ball, and their iron bars, and their cement cage, and the keeper to outwit, and that was about it.

The keepers had not only to match wits with the lions, the keepers also had to leave work, go home, do so many other things. Too often in the battle of wits the lion could get the better of the humans who kept them.

Nicholas isn't a caged lion, and doesn't have captive habits and problems. He's never even seen the Staten Island Zoo lions -- now there's a glass panel over an enclosure of mock wilderness. He can't even walk to the other side of the building and see the alligators. This mostly involved a whole lot of dark green ridges in a smelly swimming pool. Every now and then you would see one of them get up and go lie down on somebody else.

When I visited my grandparents whose house backed the lion cage, every morning they would wake me up with their roaring.

We raise free range chickens. Nicholas has read Summerhill. He's been a free range child all his life.
http://www.spinninglobe.net/freerangeintro.htm

When explaining zoos to children I use a Carol Gray Social Story model -- in the free range animals work for their social group -- animals work for their friends, their family, their pride, their flock. Inside the zoo they do not depend on the other lions, they work for the zoo. Once inside the zoo they might love, or fear, or disrespect their keepers, but that's where their life resources come from.

It's hard to reintroduce animals to the wild who have grown up in captivity. The outside world is one of personal responsibility and group dependency.

My favorite book on the subject ishttp://www.lfb.com/index.php?stocknumber=PP8660

Personal character and National Destiny. It's awfully hard to do right but doing so is its own reward. Finding people to whom you can be accountable and hold accountable is important.

And it's scary; true. Nicholas on his own decided to work for himself, to rent space from which he can sell the drawings he makes. He's already finding people he already knows to vouch for his character, even though he is so young. On beyond burger flipping. He may fail this time; a business failure in your mid-teens is recoverable. It hurts, but it's bearable. And -- if he succeeds he will have the benefits of taking the risks himself.

We also talk about what happens when you give over the risk to someone else, either by capture or birth in captivity like the lion, or by volunteer -- with or without understanding.

http://www.lyttonpublishing.com/historyofforce.html
In short -- Nicholas knows that debt is an invitation to coercion. Do not borrow from people to whom you cannot hold accountable. Do not borrow for today's expenses while pledging away tomorrow, especially to those you cannot hold accountable.

"Do not borrow short and commit long. Friends do not let friends borrow short and commit long." Nicholas knows. He tells his friends. I pray he will always remember and the wisdom of the post easy credit generation will spread. Not only do I hope that he never spends more than morbid-curiosity time learning the rules of being a good caged lion, I hope his freedom with encourage others to look beyond their keepers and to the open sky.

Protecting his innocent dependency, his confidence in others, is precious to him. Social interconnectedness is the new virginity.

Debt bondage -- it's so over, don't you know?

Somewhere, back in my earliest childhood memories the Staten Island lion, frustrated, does to his food bowl what rude dogs do to anyone they can. The keeper, wary, watches over him.


JulieB

When Rehabilitation Fails -- part one


One of the first articles I want to put on my blog for people like the "Supernanny" mom of an autistic to see is something on hope -- and hopes dashed.

I felt anger when I heard people commenting about the mother "she should do research on autism" because ironically that's something I practically never do by search engine -- I only collect information through people I know.


And of course if you already know a whole bunch of people you've already got a support system and rational hope.

When I looked inside to see why I felt such rage -- I realised I wasn't angry at the people who said that the mother should look. All my anger was at me, even after all of these years.

The nightmare began when I was 23. I was at my mother's house, doing laundry. I picked up the phone and on the other end was a college recruiter. My sister went to SUNY Potsdam, and she gave the disability dept my name as someone who could benefit from rehabilitation.

Rehabilitation from what? The usual, I suppose. "I don't understand why such a smart girl ---------" fill in the blank for the particular trouble at the particular time. My sister thought I got away with murder. I had an ADHD diagnosis, knew that I misread people's intentions all the time, holding a pencil was nearly impossible for any length of time (unless I was drawing, which made people really suspicious) and reading was horribly hard.In addition to that I knew that people told me that I was the nicest person anyone could know -- but "very, very weird". I was repeatedly called "the real Jessica Tate" (from Soap) and "the character Georgette (Mary TylerMoore) was based on".

I'm still odd. One of my son's friends has compared me to Willow (Buffy the Vampire Slayer).

The counselor on the phone was very enthusiastic that I could be rehabilitated and from there be able to do more of what I wanted to do.That was (still is) doing good in the world. At the time I was working with developmentally disabled people -- I liked them and they liked me. However, any advancement needed a degree -- something that by 23 I had realistically given up as out of reach. I thought that the counselor said that there was an opening that particular semester -- which was about to start. I got in my car, got the paperwork she asked for in order, and drove up to the campus ready to begin. She was surprised to see me. She didn't think she had invited me for that semester.

I reached into my sleeve, pulled out my trusty tape recorder, and played back the relevant parts of the conversation. I explained that many hearing amplification systems have recording devices in them, and New York is a one party state, so since I wan't able to take notes I just followed her oral directions.

This was 1983. The technology has only gotten better from there: http://www.thespystore.com/cellphonerecorders.htm

At that point I was in. The department thought I was motivated (my friends call this perseverative or hyperfocused) and that rehabilitation would be right for me. I drove back home, shut down my life, and drove back up to begin my new life as a SUNY Potsdam double major in biology and psychology, with a minor in dance because more than anything I wanted to be a dance therapist.

In the back of my mind I had hopes that maybe, just maybe, I could enter the medical field -- my stretch goal. Can any of you see your young high functioning person doing something that impulsive?

My mother was delighted because she thought my life lacked direction and I was much smarter than my sister, why was I working several jobs, and most in love with the lowest paid of them all?

I'm not sure what the disability department people knew about spectrum issues in 1983 but the college sure wasn't prepared for me -- and the situation was mutual.

JulieB

I went to a teaching college -- actually next to a teaching college.

SUNY Potsdam, which has in it one of the largest schools for music teachers.That was long enough ago so that most of the people taught in that era would still be teaching and guiding young teachers.

I saw a whole lot of teacher educational culture that was badly out of synch with success in the outside world. One of the biggest misery creators I saw was that failure was seen as something to avoid, something to actually administer as a punishment.This is a huge problem for someone on the spectrum, really for anyone with ambition who buys into this idea. I knew as a career salesperson that it should take multiple attempts before I closed a prospect, and as a person from a family of inventors that you can go years between brilliant, easy to manifest ideas, and as a person from a commune that artists create a great deal of material that isn't art. We had (and have) professional, working artists in the family. That meant that there was always lots of packing material, placemats, and firestarters.

Nicholas starts his school day lately with ten caricatures -- he's an artist, he sells his comic books. None of them are expected to be marketable. When we were talking about business and taxes last night we told him that he *would* have problems sooner or later, that this was as sure as him getting hurt in Tae Kwon Do -- it wasn't a question of whether, it was a question of how to take sensible precautions and a realistic evaluation of the real risk of true injury. He just happened to get clonked on the head that night in class, hard enough to see stars.

He was able to experience a half-hour of thinking that Tae Kwon Do was a bad idea, the shock, the pain, then realising that life with an egg on the back of your skull was very nasty, but as part of the general package -- worthwhile. That's life. At the time and from what I hear still there is a culture of "no fail" and"failsafe" with failure in general seen as the enemy rather than somethingyou should expect to spend your life swimming in. There were actual courses in bulletin board brightening, and other training for teachers that implied that it was their business to create a completely supportive environment, with lots of labels for the children who found this supportive environment -- well, unsupportive.

Teachers don't see what they are doing as systematically teaching out resilience. The idea of a world that can be built without pain is very, very seductive -- I started going to that college on one superior sales pitch, but I stayed there because *that idea* was appealing.

But it's wrong. It's appealing almost like a cult mindset is -- I had taken myself out of my responsibility the duty of feeding myself, deciding what to learn, even the possibility of getting a "real job" after college where I could get retirement eventually, other people could do my thinking for me and prevent me from feeling the risk and pain of an independent life.

My son is reading the latest Time magazine on ambition, and how to encourage achievement in the young people.http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,1126743,00.html If all of you can get this information by reading a newsmagazine instead of living through it that would be amazingly delightful.

The information in this article is why I homeschool, why I am encouraging Nicholas to employ himself for the summer -- the theory of the general is that if everyone would do this (or even more people would do this) the world would be a better, safer place.

The world is not a safe place -- but it's good.

The public schools teach ideas that would make the world appear to be safe -- but be neither safe nor good.

"They that can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety." Benjamin Franklin

JulieB