Bullying vs. Disability Harassment

It's a busy month for Good Friend, Inc. - and with good reason.  October is National Bullying Prevention Month.  While Good Friend's autism awareness-acceptance-empathy services for staff and students aren't specifically about bullying, they are intended to prevent disability harassment.  So for as long as there isn't a Disability Harassment Prevention Month, we'll piggyback on the bullying movement.

What is the difference between bullying and disability harassment?
The definitions of bullying are as varied as the manifestations.  Many indicate that bullying behavior must be intentional and repeated.  We take issue with these qualifiers, because they seem to excuse the behavior of the student or staff member who was "just kidding" when they were teasing a child.  Furthermore, when a child hears similar jibes over and over, though they come from an individual only once, does that make the insult any less painful?  On the contrary -- when a child hears negative messages from several people, the false validity of these hurtful comments starts to erode feelings of self-worth.

Disability harassment is basically bullying on the basis of one's different abilities.  It comes in just as many (and more) forms as bullying, but targets the perceived weakness inherent in the disability.  In the cases of students with autism, those who harass often do so because they believe the student with autism has chosen or can choose how he/she responds to the environment.  In other words, they tease self-regulating behaviors, social missteps, communication differences, sensory processing differences, etc.  Sometimes it's with words.  Sometimes exclusion.  Sometimes it's physical.  ALL the time it's WRONG.

© 2005 iStockphoto LP. All rights reserved.

In fact, disability harassment is a violation of three federal laws: the Individuals with Disabilities Education Act (IDEA 2004), Sec. 504 of the Rehab Act (1973), and Title II of the Americans with Disabilities Act (1990).

Why does it matter?
While definitions of bullying may differ, and regulations regarding bullying may vary on local and state levels, federal law regarding disability harassment trumps any confusion or ineffective practices.  For students, this becomes a matter of consideration in their Individualized Education Plans (IEPs).  If a student is afraid to go to school, or is placed in a more restrictive environment to "protect" against bullying behavior, this could be a denial of a free, appropriate public education (FAPE) in the least restrictive environment (LRE).  This is a civil rights issue -- not "kids being kids" or any other invalid attempt at rationalization of criminal behavior.

If you believe your student is being harassed, forward this document to your administrator with a specific example of the harassment and be sure to follow up.  If the school is not responding effectively, here is a chain of command for filing complaints -- all the way up to the Department of Justice.

Students with autism spectrum disorder have a right to be safe and respected at school.  Especially in those instances when they cannot speak up for themselves, we must be their voice and advocates.  Statistics indicate that nearly half of students with autism are bullied in school.  Assume the risk is real and do what you can to prevent it, or do what you must to correct it.  Let us know if we can help, and tell others what you're doing; share resources, encouragement, and positive stories!

What is the learner objective?

When we started developing our student curriculum nearly seven years ago, Denise and I knew what we, as parents, wanted typically-developing peers to know about their classmates with autism, including our own sons.  Not long after we had done some field tests, we assembled a committee to review our newly-hatched programs and services.  One of the members encouraged us to identify learner objectives for our programs to clarify the content.

Boiling lessons down to learner objectives crystalizes your message, and should drive both the message and the medium for delivery.

2009, Alcon Entertainment
Warner Bros. Pictures

One of my favorite film-based examples of a teacher having a clear understanding of her learning objectives for a lesson is in The Blind Side.  As the true story goes, eventual pro football player Michael Oher struggled greatly in school.  At the private school he ended up graduating from, his Biology teacher opted to give his assessment orally versus requiring him to read the questions and write his answers.  The academic ability she found in her student by taking that alternate approach made a radical difference in both his educators' perception of his potential and in the way his education was crafted.

Students with autism spectrum disorder are notoriously difficult to assess by traditional means.  Standardized tests are often verbally-loaded, which poses a number of problems for most children with ASD.  For example ...

• verbal processing delay: Many individuals with autism experience a measurable, many-second time delay in hearing words and being able to make sense of them.  In timed tests, this is especially debilitating when trying to assess understanding.
• need for rephrasing of questions: Abstract language and concepts are difficult for people with autism, who are often black-and-white, concrete thinkers.  While rephrasing questions often helps students understand the intent, this is prohibited or carefully restricted on many standardized tests.
• fine motor impairment: Whether it's a difficulty with writing in small spaces or an executive planning problem with getting thoughts from head to paper, writing words is often hard for people with autism.

And these don't even take into account communication and sensory perception differences.

In light of these, educators and families need to be clear about what their learner objectives are.  If the learner objective is to take a high-scoring standardized test, that's one thing.  But if the objective is to understand the factions of the Civil War, or the order of operations for algebra equations, or to identify and successfully manage one's emotions, then be sure the teaching and assessment methods are individualized to the learner.

The need for clarity around learner objectives, which is not restricted to academic pursuits, was recently driven home when the meltdown of a student with ASD was perceived and treated as if it were a behavior problem.  The student presented in the morning with a number of underlying stressors, which were not evident to educators because of his limited spoken language.  What sent him over the edge was a substitute teacher, who ended up receiving a communicative swipe.  Perceived by administrators as an aggressive act, the incident prompted a phone call to the parent, who was asked to take her son home as a disciplinary measure.

Thankfully for all parties, the parent had the tools to de-escalate her son* and debrief the many people who tried to respond, reminding them of her son's existing IEP and BIP, which were full of techniques that were used successfully in the past to prevent meltdowns and/or bring them to resolution.  (*Note: While the de-escalation techniques described in the article may work for some individuals, this is by no means a universal, exhaustive, and/or exclusively recommended list.) With the proper interventions, he was able to return to class successfully and complete his school day without further incident.

Here are the lessons the student could have learned from the initial mis-handling of the meltdown:

• I must self-regulate emotionally, even in the absence of otherwise available assistance.
• My non-verbal means of communication will be ignored, even punished when misperceived by adults around me.
• I will be freed from school when I use out-of-control behavior as my last resort.

Here are recommended learner objectives:

• To recognize feelings of upset and communicate those, whether verbally or otherwise, to people who can help in the ways established through my IEP/BIP.
• To expect that feelings of upset will be handled by trained adults without escalating those unwanted feelings.
• To return to class following times of emotional and/or physical dysregulation, confident that systems exist to encourage inclusive practices.

So take a good, honest look at what you're trying to teach your student with autism.  Are your learner objectives and teaching methods consistent with the lessons?  If not, how can you adapt them?  If so, please share your successes with others who require inspiration!

Setting the Bar

I'm not an athlete.  My strength never did come from my muscles.  But I certainly do admire the way athletes challenge themselves.  It seems to me that the good ones don't so much compare themselves to other athletes, but to their own accomplishments.  Personal bests, training regimens, and individualized goals mix and mingle with creative coaches and hard work to create results.  I'm sure athletes have a brass ring they're reaching for -- an ultimate dream.  Perhaps they set their own bar (whether literally for their sport or figuratively).

I think about that bar when it comes to pole vaulting.  Where do you set it?  I'm guessing pretty low to begin, and then as your skill set improves, higher and higher.  In considering the way we as parents set bars, do we do the same thing?  Do we set the bar at a reasonable level first, then as our children grow in skill, do we move the bar, perhaps with their input, so they have a new, higher aim?

For some reason, likely sheer hope and optimism, it seems most parents set that bar quite high.  We have a picture when our children are placed in our arms of what their lives will be like.  Flashes of brilliance and talent colored by milestones and achievements.  Not a whole lot of consideration of how the skill set will be developed to get there -- the tools, supports, and resources that will be needed along the way.

Based on my own personal and professional experience, when parents of children with autism receive a diagnosis, oftentimes that bar gets knocked way down -- maybe even off the rails altogether.  And they start looking to others (doctors, educators, social workers, etc.) for where and how to set the "new" bar.  What will my child's life look like after high school?  Will he get a job?  Will he get married?  Will she be able to live independently?  Suddenly all the flashes of color become washed out to gray uncertainty; and I'm not sure why we even had those flashy colors to begin with.

None of us knows how our child's life will unravel -- whether they're typically-developing or have autism spectrum disorder.  We can look at statistics and try to come up with a framework for a bar.  But human beings are surprising, somewhat unpredictable creatures -- adept at creating and using tools.

So wrap your head around this: don't "set" the bar.  Rest it.  With those high hopes and optimism.  And methodically seek out those tools, supports, and resources -- the coaches, therapists, educators, friends, interventions, etc. -- to develop the skill set needed to get over the bar.  Then move it up, fully expecting you can raise it higher.

My son with autism is now 14.  Based on his input, we've now rested his bar at high school, an apprentice program, graduation, and a three-year college program, fully expecting him to be gainfully employed thereafter.  With the framework of his fledgling Postsecondary Transition Plan, we're working together as a team to help him smash personal bests.

So keep the cushy mat under them to protect them when they fall.  And make sure the training and the equipment they have are adequate for the attempt.  Keep celebrating achievements and learning from mistakes.  All in brilliant color.  Your student is worthy of nothing less.

A Season for Appreciation

While April is a great month for awareness (and acceptance), May is the perfect month for appreciation ... of teachers and mothers.

Last week, we celebrated teachers.  If you're the parent of a student with autism spectrum disorder (ASD), you probably particularly appreciate your child's teacherS.  Since I'm raising two students with special education needs, our family celebrates quite a host of educators.  We appreciate classroom teachers who strive to make their lessons inclusive of all learners, keeping individual needs in mind.  We appreciate special education teachers who meet with their colleagues in professional learning communities to adapt curriculum ahead of time.  We appreciate speech language pathologists who encourage other members of our students' teams to generalize newly-acquired skills.  We appreciate specially-designed phy ed teachers who travel from school to school in our district, often working with students in a wide range of age and ability, supporting them in their physical well-being.  We appreciate art and music teachers who are flexible, sometimes without much support from special educators.  We appreciate school nurses who dispense medication, and secretaries who smile while handing our kids a hall pass, and principals who show up to IEP meetings.  They're all teachers, too -- they teach our kiddos how to be the best them they can be.

On Sunday, we celebrated moms.  I celebrated my kids' grandmas, who've had to learn how to interact in a whole new way with their daughter's children.  In my own private reflection, I celebrated the moms who've gone before me on this journey of raising children with ASD; she who listened to her heart instead of her head (or an "expert") along the way, to her child's benefit; she who strapped on the figurative combat boots in case someone needed some *ahem* encouragement to see her perspective; she who collaborated and compromised to make sure her child would get the supports he or she needed.  Those moms inspire me to continue on our journey with diligence and excellence.  I also celebrated the moms of typically-developing children who are flexible enough to encourage their kids to befriend and support my kids, on school grounds and off.

Good Friend co-founder Denise did another kind of celebrating on Friday and Saturday.  She and another Good Friend autism mom were demonstrating and learning about the siblings of students with special needs through a training program by The Sibling Support Project.  Sibshops seek to increase the peer support and information opportunities for brothers and sisters of people with special needs, and to increase parents' and providers' understanding of sibling issues.  The programs appreciate these brothers and sisters, who will likely be in the lives of family members with special needs LONGER than anyone else.  They may be there after parents are gone and special education services are a distant memory.  Throughout their lives, siblings share many of the concerns that parents of children with special needs experience, including isolation, a need for information, guilt, concerns about the future and caregiving demands.  Siblings also face issues that are uniquely theirs including resentment, peer issues, embarrassment and pressure to achieve.

So here's to you, teachers, moms, and siblings.  We hope those around you continue to celebrate your awesomeness!

From Barriers to Bridges

Earlier this month, I fawned over the friendship between Andrew Jenks and Chad, a young adult with autism on MTV's "World of Jenks".  The symbol that so impacted me was the bridge they crossed together at an amusement park.  Jenks was both the catalyzer and supporter for Chad's successful crossing.

Did you see the bridge they crossed last week?  They were at a park of sorts where Chad reported he likes to go walk and think alongside a brook.  He likes to see the crayfish and smell the country air and listen to the calming water as he paces.  (Many people with autism, including my son, report they think better when they are moving -- something about that kinetic energy.)  While Chad wasn't afraid of the low, sturdy bridge he and Andrew crossed together, he was trying to wrap his head around this transition he's making from going to school to graduating.  And Andrew was with him to experience that thought process; to encourage him as he crossed that bridge.

And I want to focus on that critical support person role for this week.  Let's back up to the bridge in the first episode.  What if Andrew said, "You're afraid of heights?  Well then never mind.  We'll go your way." While that would have been respectful of Chad's feelings, it would have put up a barrier to his joyful experience.

In the second week, when Chad was going to his senior prom with his girlfriend, his intention was to experience his first kiss with his Amanda.  He was crossing a metaphorical bridge of sorts -- demonstrating his desire to cross from a platonic relationship to a romantic one.  What if Andrew hadn't given him that pep talk in the limo and offered that cologne?  Those steps made the bridge less threatening.  Jenks could have put up a barrier ("You're not ready for that kind of relationship"), but that would have been a barrier to that milestone moment for both Chad and his girlfriend at the prom.

If you're supporting someone with autism, perhaps as an educational assistant (maybe they call you a paraprofessional or teacher's aide), I'd like to ask you to be reflective of your interactions with your students on the spectrum for a moment.  Are you a bridge or a barrier to social experiences in the classroom and beyond?

Before your crinkle your nose in defense, know that I understand how complicated the nature of your role is.  I have a great deal of respect for your job.  You walk this tightrope between fostering independence and preventing learned helplessness.  You are not the special education teacher, but you're the one in the trenches (er, classroom), doing the hard work of managing behavior through modified curriculum, often having to make adaptations on the fly.

photo courtesy of Landscape Structures®

But consider what's happening (or what has the potential of happening) between your students and their peers as you do those things.  Your student falls behind with a series of instructions the classroom teacher delivered.  Do you sit between your student and his typically-developing peers, thereby effectively preventing the peers from noticing your student has fallen behind and offering to help (or giving the student the opportunity to ask his peers for support)?

Your student drops her pencil while writing and has a hard time discerning all the motor steps required to retrieve it efficiently.  Do you swoop in and grab it for her, or motion to the peer sitting next to her to offer to grab it?

The class begins a community building exercise that requires a sophisticated level of social engagement.  The student you're supporting doesn't have a whole lot of reliable verbal output.  Do you recommend to the speech language therapist that she develops a method of response to keep your student with his class, or opt out of the experience, essentially further removing your student from being regarded by his peers as a social being?

Your role is crucial to meaningful inclusion.  You have the opportunity, likely several times a day, to be a bridge or a barrier.  Thank you for not only sometimes being the bridge, but building the bridge with inadequate materials in less time than you ever thought possible; for pointing out the bridges to the students; and for helping your students to cross them.

Sowing the seeds of self-determination

There's this word in the Special Education universe that's often misunderstood until, as a parent, you and your child are in the thick of it: Transition.  It's not the lowercase transition, which occurs so many times in the life of a student with special needs.  There's the transition from an Individual Family Service Plan (IFSP) that preschoolers have from birth to age 3, if they qualify, to the Individualized Education Program (IEP) that the local school district drafts.  Then the transition from Early Childhood classes to Kindergarten.  Then from elementary school to middle school.

And somewhere along that middle school time in the state of Wisconsin, or in high school according to federal law, families start to hear about this Transition.  Transition is the period of time and series of events required to prepare students with special education needs for life after secondary education.  While students with IEPs may graduate with their peers, they may also opt to stay in the public school system, receiving related services until they're 21 years old.  This Transition planning is multi-faceted and critically important.  Perhaps most importantly, it's a time when students are required to engage actively in the process and select desired outcomes.

The Wisconsin Department of Public Instruction has a series of four publications intended to assist Transition teams with various aspects of the process.  There is one that speaks to the steps families and schools can take when students are yet in elementary school: Opening Doors to Self-Determination Skills.  Here's the list for students (found on p. 7 of the booklet):

• Know your strengths (what you are good at).
• Know your areas of need (where you need help).
• Know your interests (what you like).
• Know what kind of support you need to be successful.
• Learn how to make choices.
• Be a part of Individualized Education Plan (IEP) meetings, at first by introducing IEP members and describing yourself (interests, likes, dislikes).
• Share a list of accommodations you need with general education teachers.
• Participate in clubs, sports, and other activities kids your age are in.
• Begin to understand your own disability and what it means to your learning.
• Choose a time and place to study and do homework at home each day.
• Help out with family chores (making dinner, shopping, cleaning your room).
• Volunteer and help out in your local community.
• Enjoy who you are! Learn about yourself. You are more than your disability.

How can students with autism be self-aware if we don't start having these conversations with them early?  The better they are at being familiar with themselves, the better they will be able to determine their own needs.  Knowing their strengths and their supports is part of self-determination.  And being able to share those things with peers, teachers, and eventually employers, will make that Transition more smooth.


So as a parent and professional, I encourage you as parents and teachers to be Transition-minded with your students when they are in second grade.  And by the time your student with autism is in middle school, they will be far more likely to participate meaningfully in this mandated process.

Look Before You Leap

Last week, more than 100 Special Education teachers and administrators, plus parents of children with autism spectrum disorders and related providers, converged in our area for a combined Community of Practice (CoP) on Autism Spectrum Disorders and other Development Disabilities (ASD/DD) and Autism Program Support Teacher (PST) meeting hosted by the Wisconsin Department of Public Instruction (DPI).  The focus of the day's sessions was Evidence-Based Practice (EBP).  As such, there was an introductory presentation on the meaning and significance of EBP in the field of autism education and treatment.  Key themes emerging from this presentation were a) the importance of implementing the intervention with fidelity (as the researcher/developer of the intervention intended) and b) discerning the most appropriate intervention for the individual learner (knowing that not every intervention will be effective for every person with autism).  This first session was followed by overviews of select EPBs and discussion of case studies where various EBPs should be applied.

There are two critical FREE resources that educators and caregivers should know about regarding EBPs.  (I mentioned them in a blog in September 2012, but they deserve additional explanation.)  They are Autism Internet Modules (AIM) and The National Professional Development Center on ASDs (NPDC).

With so many possibilities to explore for the treatment and education of our loved ones with autism, choosing the road to travel on can be intimidating.  These websites not only offer the research basis for EBPs, but in the case of AIM, offer actual training in video modules regarding the interventions, which may include some best practices (ones that are considered tried and true, but lack the research criteria required to qualify as an EBP).  So instead of reading dozens of articles and books, you can download a PDF at NPDC's website (click on Evidence-Based Practices and then on EBP Briefs).  Each of the 24 EBPs has its own  components, including an overview, a bibliography-format evidence base list, steps for implementation of the EBP, and an implementation checklist.  This helps the reader to implement the EBP with fidelity.

More of a multi-media learner, or want more than the 24 EBPs listed through the NPDC?  Then click on over from there to AIM's website.  The Ohio Center for Autism and Low Incidence [Disabilities] (OCALI) hosts this gem, which features the "alpha" interventionist on the practice teaching you how to use the intervention!  There are pre- and post-module assessments, so you can determine if the practice is worthy of the time you'd take to complete a module (anywhere from 45 minutes to several hours).  There are FAQs, discussion questions, and lots of supplemental resources for each module.  A newer feature is the ability to earn a certificate of completion for only $10 per credit hour.  Otherwise, there is NO FEE to use the site.  Just create a login and password; and you'll never get spam or other solicitations from OCALI or AIM.

AIM has 41 modules available and another 34 in progress, spanning from Early Identification of ASD to Autism in the Workforce.  These are wonderful for professional development, continuing education, family supports, caregivers, educational assistants, and pretty much anyone who interacts with people with ASD.

There are almost infinite ways you can encourage the use of these resources in your community.  How are you using, have you used, or do you plan to use the NPDC and AIM to help determine your next steps?

It All Matters

As educators and administrators start to get in the new school year zone, they'll go over the Individualized Education Programs (IEPs) of the students in their classes to get an understanding of some of the more specialized needs.  (Or at least they should be doing that!)  A good IEP is one that focuses on achievements and strengths while making challenging goals with supportive services to keep the student moving forward.  It would be sad and certainly not helpful if the narratives were filled with little more than disparaging notes and records of failures.  The IEP should give the accepting teacher a good base of ideas to keep the student learning and growing.

Assuming teachers are getting such positive documents, they should start in September with every intention of celebrating achievements.  If we subscribe to the belief that success begets success, and we know that there is some attrition of academic skills over the summer, then we have to be ready to set learners up for success immediately in that first week of school.  What accomplishments did they have over the summer?  What wonderful skills are they demonstrating those first days?

As the parent of two children with autism spectrum disorders (ASDs), I've learned that what seem like little things matter big time.  When my mommy friends were celebrating their typically-developing children's milestones, I began scratching my head while I observed my toddler with a differently-wired brain.  Once we had a diagnosis, I understood that we were on a different trajectory, but it would still sting to hear some of those early reports of my child's same-aged peers self-dressing or -feeding.  I was still looking in my child for the same achievements my friends were noticing in theirs.

What I wasn't trained to notice at the time was how my son was recognizing patterns and generalizing those to other aspects of his life.  For example, when walked to the refrigerator and took the number 9 magnet, turned it on its head, and said "six".  Or when he jumped out from behind the kitchen wall and said, "Boo!" to me, just like his favorite character Sulley from Monsters, Inc.

photo by Jan H. Andersen

But last month, when his 13-year-old self began singing in the shower, I knew what an achievement that was.  It meant that ...

• he was imitating.  His younger sister is quite a nightingale, and almost always exercises her pipes while showering.
• he enjoys music.  His Early Childhood and music teachers during his early years at school were far more likely to find him under the desk with his hands over this ears than participating in class.
• he can speak.  Many people with autism struggle greatly to communicate with spoken language.

I share this because ...

• as parents, we need to celebrate achievements like this.  It all matters.
• as educators, we need to continually point out students' successes to themselves, their parents, and their peers.
• as peers, we need to recognize that while our friends with autism might not be doing the same stuff we are, they're doing amazing things and usually have to work WAY harder at achieving those things than we do.

What victories are you and your student celebrating?

Segregation and Self-Perception, Part 2

As parents, teachers and administrators, we all need to be mindful of the message we're sending to students.  In instances where students with special education needs are set apart, or segregated, from their typically-developing peers, we have to understand the perception of the students involved: Those with Individual Education Plans (IEPs) who are sent to an alternate placement should know it's for their benefit, or they might begin to feel inferior to their peers.  Those who see their peers with IEPs in separate classrooms should know those students are just as worthy of respect, compassion, and attention as they are.

We teach by example.  If a general educator consistently deflects the needs of a student with an IEP in her or his class to the support person (i.e., a educational assistant or a special education teacher), or groups the students with challenges together and separates them from the other students within the same classroom, social habits are likely to follow suit.  These students will become isolated from their peers on the playground, in the cafeteria, and on the bus.  They will not be included in a homogenous population.  Or worse, they could become targets of relational aggression.

Consider what happened with Jane Elliott's blue eyes/brown eyes exercise more than 40 years ago.  In the wake of the 1968 murder of Martin Luther King, Jr., and in an effort to get her 3rd grade students to understand the injustice of segregation and/or racial prejudice, she conducted a two-day psycho-social exercise.  The impact of this role play, and the one captured on film two years later, has resounded for decades.

On the first day, she convinced her class that the children with blue eyes, like herself, were superior.  The brown-eyed children were asked to wear identifying collars so they would be recognized from a distance as having brown eyes.  Before long, the students with brown eyes felt inferior socially and academically.

The second day, Ms. Elliott flipped the rules, confessing to the students that she'd lied the previous day about blue-eyed people being better than those with brown eyes.  The latter gave their collars to the former; and while the brown-eyed children were more merciful on day two than the blue-eyed children were to them on day one, it was still an awful day for everyone.  By the end, when Ms. Elliott told the students the truth, that they were all equal, the students despised the collars, the lesson, and prejudice altogether.

If this alteration in self- and peer-perception happens in a matter of hours, what do you suppose happens over months and years when we separate children with special education needs?  Of course, we have to provide the kind of support that will help our students to learn best; but can we provide it more seamlessly?  Can we design an environment that provides universal access to learning opportunities, without some of the barriers to those who process sensory input differently?  Can we start a club based on a student with ASD's passion that allows him to showcase his core competency -- even expertise?  Can we encourage educational assistants to act as social bridges, sharing practical tips to foster interaction between students with ASDs and their typically-developing peers?

I know we can.

How will you improve the culture in your community to be more inclusive of students with ASD?

Segregation and Self-Perception, Part 1

There are many arguments why self-contained classrooms for students with special education needs are valuable and qualify as the least-restrictive environment (LRE) for educational placement.

• It is more cost-effective to deliver services to a population of students with similar specialized learning needs in a single class.
• Some general educators are not certified to teach special education, so students with IEPs cannot be served well in general ed classrooms.
• Students with special education needs can be more closely monitored for behavior and academic progress in a separate classroom.
• Some students with special education needs are incapable of functioning in a mainstreamed classroom.

There are more reasons why inclusive education is valuable, which drove the discussion of LRE in the Individuals with Disabilities Education Act (IDEA).  One of the reasons -- self-perception -- reaches the core of my being.  As a high school student, my brother and I attended the same public school.  The achievement-oriented culture of the school was focused on two things: college and sports.  If you were the student who was college-bound with good grades and/or played well on one (or more) of the school's sports teams, you were looked upon favorably.  If not, you clearly did not enjoy the same staff-offered perqs (such as benefit of the doubt, homework forgiveness, basic respect, etc.).

I was a nerd.  I answered the teachers' questions in class, went to the summer camps devoted to intellectual or career pursuits, and was the school board student representative.  My not-much-younger brother was seemingly the opposite.  He wore provocatively-messaged t-shirts, used the breaks in the day to head outside to smoke a cigarette (which you could do legally back in those days), and ended up in a high-risk program to at least get him to graduate with a GED.

There was one teacher in particular who seemed to thrive on berating my brother.  He would stand at the end of the hallway and hurl insults with a half-cocked grin of satisfaction on his face directed at the college-bound and athletically-gifted students who passed him.  He was encouraging them to join in the ridicule not only by his initiation, but by his body language's approval.  This was a core curriculum teacher whom I otherwise considered rather effective in the classroom.  I knew it was wrong then, but lacked the practical wisdom (and frankly, authority) to counteract the bullying behavior.

While my brother's teachers made accommodations in the classroom, and special educators assisted as needed, he was particularly uncomfortable about his placement in a study hall of sorts for students with special education needs.  There were students at all grade levels and with all manner of disabilities in this classroom, and the teacher went amongst them to offer assistance with and re-teaching on curricular assignments.  My brother said he used the time to sleep, because he figured that's all his teachers expected of him anyway.

He had begun to believe the propaganda a few insensitive teachers were publishing about himself -- he would never amount to anything; he wasn't smart enough to do the classwork; he'd be lucky to get a diploma at all.  What a sad way to glimpse your future when you're only 16.

I asked my brother if he ever thought about what might have happened had his teachers established higher expectations and held him accountable for class work.  He said he didn't think about it from that perspective much; but he still has nightmares about the administration calling him back to tell him he didn't really finish high school.

I know it's controversial to call placement in a self-contained classroom segregation of students with special education needs, but if the argument is anything but "the nature or severity of the disability of a child is such that education in regular classes with the use of supplementary aids and services cannot be achieved satisfactorily", then the child is being set apart from his or her typically-developing peers in a manner out of compliance with IDEA.  And that state of being set apart sends a message, albeit unintentionally, that students with special education needs don't belong with their typically-developing peers.

Watch for Part 2 next week, when we'll discuss this idea in connection with Jane Elliott's blue eyes/brown eyes classroom exercise.

The Things We Do for Love

I think it's safe to say that teachers love kids. Why else would you spend six hours a day, five days a week, in a room with 25 students? Now I love my kids, but I can guarantee you that if I spent every waking moment with them for the summer, I would go bonkers. In fact, the final weeks of the school year are always a scramble to be sure we have the right mix of down time and scheduled, supported activities to keep everyone happy and healthy (and lovely).


I also love my job, part of which is to go in to schools to teach students about autism. And I often say I can do it for an hour, but it might be a different story if it were 8 to 3.

photo by Curtis Compton, Atlanta Journal-Constitution (2010)

Yet there are these educators who not only punch in and punch out, but think critically about how to make learning more fun and functional for their students.  And not only between those hours of 8 to 3, but specifically before- and after-hours; because often while the students are there at school, they're commanding full attention.


Recently, my 13-year-old son was struggling with team activities in Physical Education (Gym).  His Specially-Designed Phy Ed teacher contacted me, starting off the phone call with, "I've been thinking all night about how we can design a program for him that will be meaningful."  It's the stuff of dreams, really -- both the inspired ideas and the collaborative effort that combine for the magic of effective inclusive instruction.


During an Autism Spectrum Disorder/Developmental Disability Community of Practice meeting last month, one of the round table sessions was on "Hot Topics" for the population in discussion.  It was moderated by a staff member for the statewide Autism Society chapter and a speech therapist for an area school district.  One of the parent-initiated discussions was regarding socialization and meaningful inclusion in elementary school.  


The speech therapist was eager to share her idea of a "Birthday Manager".  This job was created for students with special education needs who benefit from positive social interaction, practice in decision making, and fine and gross motor skill development.  The Birthday Manager has a list of the week's student birthdays.  He or she selects a pre-made card, chooses a piece of clip art to add, and addresses and delivers the card.  The birthday student is happy, the Birthday Manager is proud, and everyone sees how valuable an exchange the exercise is.  Brilliant!  The speech therapist shared a number of ways such an activity fits into existing IEP goals.


Ah, the things we do for love -- for love of students, for love of education, for love of success.  Thank you, educators and therapists, for the love you've shown this past school year.  We look forward to your renewed energy and ideas again in August/September!