The summer Sean was about to turn five, he was chosen as one of a few autistic children in the Valley to teach the TEACCH program to teachers. saythatfivetimesrealfast! He was perfect for the job in that he was a classic case study in autism. The training was a week long and proved to be as helpful to me as the teachers. I learned just how literal my communication with Sean needed to be. The instructor gave an example:
The doctor asks the autistic boy to kick the ball.
(He knew he could because he had seen him do it.)
The boy did not kick the ball.
He asked him to kick the ball with his foot.
The boy did not kick the ball.
He asked him to kick the ball with his shoe.
The boy kicked the ball.
I learned to throw nearly all generalizations out the window. Better those than my child, I'd say.
Sean was still a mega handful. He still had rock star tantrums, but he was, at least, communicating to the point of being understood more times than not. There was a method to his madness and I was "getting it". His behavior was more predictable. Thank the Lord for even just a little predictability! I was no longer afraid of the autism. I stared it down at any given moment. I was a force to be reckoned with. The "who are you and what have you done with my child?" intruder was now a member of our household and lived by my rules. I shouldn't get too cocky here, he still kicked my ass but at least I was stepping up. Sean and I shared silences as well as full blown hissy fits on a daily basis so even though we were still living in extremes, we were c-o-m-m-u-n-i-c-a-t-i-n-g. I was also communicating to the point of being understood. We were each relearning how to "talk" to one another, that's all. I had been mourning the loss of him so much that I didn't realize I could find him again.
~love lifted me.
Thursday, July 21, 2011
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