Showing posts with label occupational therapy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label occupational therapy. Show all posts

Tuesday, April 21, 2015

Day 21: Acceptance is a Safe Haven #SensoryHop

Ben feeling safe with his Nana and Papa.
**For those of you joining my blog for our monthly Sensory Blog Hop, I am writing a post a day on the topic of "Acceptance Is..." for the month of April in honor of Autism Acceptance month.  Thanks for reading!**

“Acceptance is a room (dimly lit)…” -Aspergers Square
  
 These words have been echoing in my mind since I first read them a few days ago. 

It's gotten me thinking about my son’s own need for safe havens. 

He is a child full of contrasts.

He is the boy with the loud voice who craves the quiet spaces.

He is the boy filled with energy who needs calm, serene surroundings.

Loud, busy spaces with brightly colored walls will amplify his personality and he will become more and more worked up.  

This can quickly spiral him out of control.  

He is learning how to breathe himself back to calm, but it’s hard to be quiet on the inside when the outside world is so noisy and chaotic and unpredictable.

Occupational therapy (OT) is his safe haven in a busy and often chaotic school day.

The sensory strategies work for him but he needs them often, especially in the fast-paced environment of the classroom.

Ben needs heavy work activities and vestibular input (swinging, spinning, etc) to help him to enter into his optimal learning state.

Without them, Ben’s brain enters into the fight or flight mode.  It’s hard to learn math when your hair is metaphorically on fire.

Ben’s school OT once told me once that when Ben is doing therapy in the OT room, an outside observer watching would have a hard time pointing him out as the kid on the spectrum. 

She said this not to minimize his autism but to show how powerful a factor the environment and the sensory strategies are for him.

I explained to Ben’s OT that he also wouldn’t stand out as “different” in most public places. 

I know that many kids who deal with sensory processing disorder struggle to go to the grocery store or a restaurant without becoming overloaded. 

Not Ben. 

He loves going out to eat and is perfectly calm and at ease in these places (assuming they don’t take too long to bring us our meals!)

As I explained this to Ben’s OT, she smiled and said to me, “Jessica, the common denominator in those experiences is you.  You are his anchor in the world.  This gives him the safety and security to go out confidently into life.”

There was a period time when Ben clung to me like a literal life preserver. 

It had to be me and no one else. 

If we were going anywhere, he would always ask, “Mommy too?”

Now we are at a place where it doesn’t have to be just me.  

So many people, from his Dad to his grandparents, to his extended family, love this little guy so much, and I believe that a big part of feeling secure for him is knowing first that he is loved.

Home has always been his source of ultimate security.  

For Ben, home is extending to more than just the place.

Home is the feeling he associates with it.

It is the anchor of holding hands through a crowded mall.

It is the reassurance of a hand on his shoulder while waiting in a line.

It’s the whispered reminder of how many more minutes while glancing at a watch.

On Saturday my husband and I sat in the theater lobby, waiting for Ben to finish his morning acting class.

I watched him bounce happily down the sidewalk with his teacher, his hand clasped in hers, some tissue flowers clasped in his other hand.

When he saw me, he came running, holding up the flowers to me.

His circle is expanding.


His safe haven is growing.





Friday, April 17, 2015

Day 17: Acceptance is Learning and Growing

My post today is a bit about Ben, but more about my reflections of my time as a classroom teacher.  Whenever I learn about autism or sensory processing, I first think about this new understanding from the perspective of helping my son, but then I think about the larger impact in my work as an educator.  The techniques and truths that I have learned will benefit more than just my son.  

Today's post is a self-reflection.  As with most of my posts, it is based on my unique perspective and experiences, but I hope that you can gain some insights from them that can translate to your personal circumstance, whether you are a parent, teacher, autistic adult, or simply an interested reader.

Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve enjoyed learning.  That was the major reason that I became a teacher.  I love kids but, even more so, I enjoy helping others learn.  I love watching the look in someone's eye when they "get it".  I love feeling the energy and buzz that comes with learning.

I still work closely with teachers, but I no longer teach in the classroom. 

I thought I did a pretty good job as a classroom teacher.  My students were generally happy and they made learning gains.  I spent lots of time planning with my colleagues.  I spent lots of time thinking through the lessons I would teach.  And, during the school day, I worked hard every minute.  I didn’t sit behind my desk- I was up teaching the kids.  I worked hard after school too.  I was one of the teachers who the custodian had to kick out in the evenings.  I was devoted to my job.  Still am.

After two years of learning about sensory processing and autism, I now realize that if I were ever to go back into the classroom, I would do so many things differently. 

Here is what I know now that I didn’t understand then…

1)   I didn’t understand OTs.
Let me start by saying that I love the OTs in Ben’s life.  They are the critical factor to helping him achieve at school.  But back before Ben's diagnosis, I didn’t understand their role or how what they were doing in therapy directly benefited the students in my classroom.  To my untrained eye, it looked like they were playing games and if I were to be completely honest I probably harbored a little irritation that they were taking time away from the real work the kids needed to do in the classroom.  Now I know I was so, so wrong.  First, OT is fun.  Sadly, if school in general were more fun, kids would probably learn more!  Secondly, the games played in OT all have a necessary purpose.  For example, when kids swing on the monkey bars, it actually builds the muscles needed for fine motor skills, skills like writing essays.  Back then I had no idea about a sensory diet.  I knew that kids needed time to run off their energy, but I didn’t understand the power of a five minute energizer in the class.  I see now how the work that OTs do has a direct impact on classroom academic performance.  If a kid is not in a calm, alert state, learning is nearly an impossibility.  I wish I would have understood the power of Bridges and Brain Gym and the other tools that were put in place early in my teaching career to support the body/brain connection.  I would have used them much, much more.

2)   I didn’t understand sensory behaviors.
As a teacher, I thought I understood student behavior.  I thought I was great at handling behavior “issues” because I almost never had to send a kid to the principal’s office.  I could handle almost anything myself.  I knew about attention-seeking behaviors, students behaviors to gain power and control, defiant and aggressive behaviors.  You name it- I’d dealt with it.  However, I never truly understood the impact of the sensory world on a person’s behavior.  It didn’t occur to me nearly often enough that some of the behaviors that I was seeing were not a child trying to cause me difficulty.  I didn’t understand that the child who fell out of his seat may have been trying so hard to pay attention to me that he literally couldn’t stay in his seat and pay attention at the same time.  I didn’t understand that the child tapping his pencil while he worked wasn’t doing it for the express purpose of annoying me (well- maybe sometimes...).  It was probably his way of organizing his thinking.  If I had understood these sorts of things, I would have punished less and put more strategies in place to support the children’s sensory needs.

3)   I didn’t understand autism at all.
In my time as a classroom teacher, I never had a student on the autism spectrum in my class.  I knew of these children in my school, but they were always in the self-contained classrooms.  If I had been given a child on the spectrum to teach, I would like to believe that I would have read everything I could on the subject so that I could have educated myself.  I would like to believe that I would have sought input from the experts at my school to help me and attended trainings if I could.  These past two years have taught me a lot about autism, and I hope that the lessons I’ve learned would have transferred into my teaching.  I have learned that children on the spectrum need structure and predictability.  They need classroom routines that are posted and stay consistent from day to day.  They are typically visual learners.  They need to be warned before sudden changes in their routine.  Social stories are so helpful, because you can read a story of what’s going to happen, and it helps to prepare them for this change. They are literal thinkers.  Expressions like "This is a piece of cake" are often confusing to them.   I have also learned that autism is a spectrum, and most likely I taught an undiagnosed autistic student at some point in the past and just didn’t know it.  I hope I served that child well.

4)   I didn’t understand IEPs nearly well enough.
IEPs (Individual Education Plans) are written for a student with disabilities to outline the individual goals and objectives for that calendar year, based on the assessment information collected on that child.  When I was a teacher I relied too much on the special education teachers who worked with me to know the child’s goals on the IEP.  I looked at their IEPs from time to time (mainly for their testing accommodations) but didn’t keep them in the forefront of my planning for that child.  I didn’t collaborate frequently enough with the ESE teacher.  I wish I would have utilized the experts in my school more when I had difficulty with students rather than trying to figure out the best course of action on my own.

5)   I didn’t differentiate nearly enough.
As a teacher, I spent a lot of time and energy thinking about how to group students.  I thought about which child shouldn’t be sitting next to which child.  I thought about who should go in which reading group together based on reading levels.  I even thought about how to create assignments for the various learning levels in my room.  But as a teacher I still defaulted (subconsciously) to teaching in the ways that worked best for my own personal learning style.  I think that we often teach others in the ways that we ourselves learn best.  If I were to go back in the classroom now I would talk less and observe my students more in order to find the right teaching style to meet the needs of my unique group of learners.

Teaching is a hard job.  Those who have never taught have no idea just how grueling and also rewarding it is.  Teachers are a blessing and a gift because they touch the lives of our children every single day. 

I am grateful every day for the work teachers do. 

I am in awe of them and seek to make their lives easier whenever I can.

I am so glad that Ben has an amazing teacher and team that works with him every day.  I am grateful that they have the benefit of understanding more about sensory processing and autism then I did when I was a classroom teacher.

There is a saying that when you know better, you do better.  My eyes have been opened to a whole new sensory world, thanks to my son.  

I hope that by sharing my journey with others, they too can learn and grow. 


It will be interesting to see what I have learned in five years' time. 

Sunday, July 20, 2014

The Reason He Runs

                                                      
This picture shows Ben running in circles around a pond at my aunt's house.   This was yet another wide open space where he enjoyed running endlessly.
 Stimming is a word often discussed in the autism community. 

A stim or a self-stimulating behavior often has a negative connotation. 

There are many articles that discuss how to reduce or eliminate stimming behaviors.  While I understand that harmful behaviors such as head banging should be reduced and even eliminated, I believe that often a stim can be calming and regulating for a person. 

We all have our stims, whether it is nail biting, pencil tapping, or hair twirling.  For Ben, one of his stims is running.  Running in circles.  Running in straight lines.  Running to be free.

Ben has always loved to run. 

He does not run away, as some autistic children do.  I am so grateful that he is not the child who runs into oncoming traffic or who may, at a moment’s notice, run out the door and into the neighborhood.  My heart goes out to those families who must constantly be on their guard lest their precious child slips away from them and into harm's way.

No, Ben runs when he sees an opportunity, just as an artist feels compelled to fill a blank canvas.

Open spaces call out to Ben.

Grassy fields.

Sandy beaches.

Areas that form a continuous loop call out to him also.

Playgrounds with rounded fences.

The sensory gym where he receives his occupational therapy.

A house with a front and back yard that connect.

While on our family vacation, we recently visited our friends for a cookout.  

Their house rests on a beautiful plot of land with slightly rolling hills in the backyard where we often spot wildlife such as deer and raccoons.  Rocky stone steps connect the side of the house to the long driveway of their front yard, with trails that loop in two directions where the paths meet. 

The perfect space for Ben to run.