tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37499243058711609512024-03-12T19:12:55.389-07:00PerspectivesFederation for Children with Special Needshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11416793662730926724noreply@blogger.comBlogger18125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3749924305871160951.post-46828180412184132352014-07-29T08:07:00.001-07:002014-07-29T08:07:15.448-07:00Walk, Roll, Shobble*, Stroll for Children with Special Needs<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">On September 21, 2014, the Federation for Children with
Special Needs will hold their second annual fundraising walk, “Walk, Roll,
Shobble*, Stroll!” Once again, it will be
held at the Massachusetts Hospital School in Canton, MA from noon to 3pm. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Last year, the event drew over one hundred participants and
raised over $13,000 for the Federation! </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Upon arriving, participants enjoyed tunes spun by DJ Kevin
Sullivan, who got everyone on the floor dancing the Cha-Cha, the Electric
Slide, and the Hokey Pokey; and playing Freeze Dance and Wonder Ball. The morning’s activities included face
painting, arts and crafts projects, balloon animals and hats, and much
more. Families brought picnic lunches,
and were provided with snacks, drinks, and ice cream treats.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After lunch, FCSN’s Executive Director Rich Robison
welcomed participants, thanked them for coming, and introduced guest of honor,
Nicole Tarzia, Ms. Wheelchair Massachusetts 2013. Ms. Tarzia encouraged all in attendance to
dream big! At 1pm, Tarzia and event
mascot Frances the Elephant led the participants on a trek around the nature
trail, where they also searched for a variety of playful scavenger hunt items. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The weather also cooperated for the event. The sun came
out in the afternoon just in time for the walk to begin, and walkers, rollers, shobblers*,
and strollers were treated a warm, sunny autumn afternoon. There was just enough of a breeze to carry
the bubbles blown by the participants.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">All in all, the first Walk, Roll, Shobble*, Stroll was a lot
of fun, and we can’t wait for this year’s walk! <a href="https://www.firstgiving.com/19172/walk-roll-shobble-stroll2" target="_blank">Register</a> today! Hope to see
you there! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">*where a shuffle meets a hobble<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></o:p></div>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">By Rebecca Rizoli </span></o:p></div>
Federation for Children with Special Needshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11416793662730926724noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3749924305871160951.post-34262861716755563542014-06-25T10:38:00.000-07:002014-06-26T06:04:17.673-07:00Book Review: "Parents Have the Power to Make Special Education Work" <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGjXgB2IzsAnnhGAqE0A1xVWLCFGXrs1F_9GAnUhz3NHSLwZ2aJMnbJBc4H7TbEcIyFWRbF7NERpKaeEeYipCLVcfPOJYnvPyesLYjCc4UxAIO-7khuQE1zDO08qRwRN81YTSFiw47_H8/s1600/book+cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGjXgB2IzsAnnhGAqE0A1xVWLCFGXrs1F_9GAnUhz3NHSLwZ2aJMnbJBc4H7TbEcIyFWRbF7NERpKaeEeYipCLVcfPOJYnvPyesLYjCc4UxAIO-7khuQE1zDO08qRwRN81YTSFiw47_H8/s1600/book+cover.jpg" height="200" width="131" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As a long-time special education
professional-turned-advocate I simply cannot say enough about the value of this
book for parents. I recommend it to anyone who is going through the special
education process for the first, or fiftieth, time.<br />
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Readers will quickly learn that Judith and Carson Graves' book, Parents Have
The Power To Make Special Education Work: An Insider's Guide, stands in
refreshing contrast to the ubiquitous jargon and bureaucratic double-speak that
too many parents encounter during their special education journey.<br />
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With a robust Foreword by the well-regarded Robert K. Crabtree, Esq., this
accessible gem gives beginner and veteran parents alike a simple,
straightforward overview of federal and state special education laws and their
relevance to common situations parents may encounter. More immediately, this
book offers practical strategies for parents navigating the seemingly
never-ending maze that has become special education in the United States. Main
chapter topics include: understanding the perspective of school personnel and
how and why conflicts of interest arise, understanding evaluation reports,
writing measurable IEP goals, handling Team meetings, why keeping good written
records is essential, the legal process, and planning for transition to
adulthood.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Given the Graves' at times maddening experiences with fighting for services for
their now-grown son over many years, they could be forgiven for being bitter.
Yet nothing could be further from the truth. To the contrary they have taken
their experience as a family and turned it into something truly compelling and
constructive and from which other parents, caregivers, and professionals can
learn.<br />
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Chapter 7: Writing Effective IEP Goals in particular had me enthusiastically
nodding with each paragraph and marking up the margins. With real examples of
IEP goals and benchmarks this chapter alone is worth the cost of the book.
Additionally I have not seen a better discussion elsewhere specifically for
parents on the relevance of writing specific, measurable goals as it relates to
tracking a child's progress over time. I think parents will also find chapters
8 and 9 especially useful as they speak to the daily realities of meetings and
paperwork and how to handle these situations effectively and productively.<br />
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I expect this book will be on my shelf for years to come not only as a go-to
reference and strategy manual but as an eloquent reminder of an important and
perhaps overlooked truth: Parents do indeed have the power to make special
education work!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For more information please visit </span><a href="http://www.makespecialeducationwork.com/" style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">www.makespecialeducationwork.com</span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">By Christie C. White, M.Ed.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Special Education Advocate & Consultant<span style="color: #888888;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span title="Call with Google Voice"><span title="Call with Google Voice"></span></span>Federation for Children with Special Needshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11416793662730926724noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3749924305871160951.post-80071692060201312772014-01-15T07:53:00.000-08:002014-01-15T07:53:16.638-08:00Effectively Communicating Neuropsychological Assessment Results at IEP Team Meetings: A Conversation with Dr. Karen Postal<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 17.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">What options are available to
Team members for productively discussing a child's educational needs in light
of private medical evaluations particularly when the potential for conflict is
high? As a former IEP Team Chair, this is a question I've grappled with for
years. And like so many "big" questions, I don't think there are any
easy or obvious answers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">For Teams charged with
reviewing neuropsychological reports of course, there are two basic parts to
the conversation. First, what does the report say? Second, how do the results
translate into eligibility, services, and/or placement for a given student?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">If there's a tension between
special education and neuropsychology, I think "ground zero" is at
the IEP Team meeting table. If you're ever looking for a front row seat on how
this tension gets played out, I don't know of a better place to see it. Or feel
it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">I recently had the
opportunity to interview Dr. Karen Postal, neuropychologist and author of the
book, <u>Feedback That Sticks: The Art of Effectively Communicating
Neuropsychological Assessment Results.</u> We spoke, among other topics,
about effective strategies for discussing neuropsychological assessment results
at Team meetings. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">Here is the link the audio
interview if you'd like to give it a listen: <a href="http://www.speducated.com/feedback" target="_blank"><span style="border: none windowtext 1.0pt; color: #047ac6; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; padding: 0in;">www.speducated.com/feedback</span></a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">Click here for a link to Dr.
Postal's book: <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Feedback-that-Sticks-Communicating-Neuropsychological/dp/0199765693">http://www.amazon.com/Feedback-that-Sticks-Communicating-Neuropsychological/dp/0199765693</a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">After you listen to the
interview, please consider posting a comment below to share your thoughts and
experiences. You never know who you may help in the process!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">Christie C. White, M.Ed. is a
parent advocate who writes a special education blog for the parents &
caregivers of young children in Massachusetts at <a href="http://speducated.com/">speducated.com</a>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Federation for Children with Special Needshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11416793662730926724noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3749924305871160951.post-2224103448733983392013-08-13T10:49:00.001-07:002013-08-13T10:49:51.332-07:00Forty Years of Helping Families (from a speech by Janet Vohs)<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Excerpts from a speech given by Janet Vohs, Federation
staff member, and parent of Jessica Vohs, at Gala 2013, Celebrating Every Child
- <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I want to talk with you tonight about the incredible
honor and privilege—not to mention thrilling adventure! — is has been for me to
be part of the work of the Federation for Children with Special Needs for
nearly 34 years. My daughter Jessica and I are who we are today largely because
of the Federation. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Like many parents, 40 years ago when we learned that our
children had significant disabilities, I was advised to institutionalize
Jessica. Of course, I was hopelessly in love
with her beyond anything I would have imagined. I knew that wasn’t going to
happen. Yet I was very afraid of how we were going to make our way in a world
that would put her “away” or view her as a tragedy. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Early Intervention did not exist, and the short preschool
program was three towns away, not part of our community. But when Jessi turned
6, thanks to Ch. 766, she could attend a local public school half days-- a
totally segregated room with just 5 or 6 kids with severe disabilities. Inside,
I was ever fearful of what would happen to Jessica. I knew my love alone was
not enough. I had to help create a wider
world for Jess and really did not know where to begin.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As a single parent, I needed to find a job during her
school hours. Luckily, the Federation
found me, and I began my work there just as Jessica started school. I walked into the Federation a frustrated, fearful,
clueless mom, passionately committed to my child. I found there an automatic
sense of belonging. We were all in the
same boat. There was no manual on how to do this. We had to go with our own
truth in our own corner of the universe. For me that truth had to do, first,
with belonging. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Federation held and still holds a vision of
belonging, a possibility of wholeness, for families no matter what their
situation. This background of commonly shared difficulties, no matter what
disability label our child had, shaped our relationships with each other and
with the families we served. It also
gave rise to a shared belief in the profound significance of what we were
doing—persuading, forcing society to grant justice to its children. Simple
justice, belonging, education, health care, community, empowerment -- all of
these issues guided us and were foundational to the work. OUR individual struggles -- the nitty-gritty
details of our daily lives, our children’s experiences, and how hard it was, these
are what informed the policy work we did.
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We asked ourselves and each other: What would it be like if things were
different? Our questions led us to consider possibilities beyond what we could
see. We thought about what the words we heard and used said about the people we
cared about. For example, shifting from
integration to inclusion deepened the sense of belonging we were aiming for, as
did speaking of homes instead of slots, facilities, placements, residences, houses.
We spoke about education and learning, not just coverage or care or training or
therapy. Most important, we insisted on speaking of our children as children
first. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Our Policy work unfolded out of possibility in the areas
of: inclusion, transition, quality education, health care, and expanding the
vision.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">By stressing inclusion, we emphasized not just being
there but being with, participating as a valued person. We fought for that. From the beginning, we articulated our goal to
help bring about an overall shift toward a society that embraced the full
spectrum of humanity. Today, the very first sentence of the federal special
education law reads: <span class="ptext-">Disability
is a natural part of the human experience and in no way diminishes the right of
individuals to participate in or contribute to society. Later, in 2004,
Congress added this language, stressing that the law was amended so</span> “that
special education can become a service for such children rather than a place
where such children are sent.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Like other children, our kids grow up. In 1990, federal special education law was
amended to require schools to assist students to transition from high school to
the world of work and life in the community. In 1990, the adult world for
people with severe disabilities was far more dismal than I had imagined. The best of what was visible was a sheltered
workshop, perhaps supported employment.
I was told that Jessica would never even be considered for a sheltered
workshop. She was too disabled! She’d perhaps
be eligible for some kind of custodial program and that was even a long shot! This NEW section of law required that a student’s
vision for her life be included in the educational program and that educational
services were to support that vision.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Our vision for quality education spurred us take part in
the movement for general education reform to ensure that students with
disabilities were included in these efforts. Thanks to education reform, by 2004, students
with disabilities had to have access to the general curriculum. In the past, rather than learn to read and
write, about history and science, our kids got therapy or “functional skills
training.” Someone like Jessica could spend decades learning to button a jacket
or zip a sweater or other “therapy.” The
reformed law even required that our kids’ teachers be qualified to teach the
subject matter they were teaching. We helped drive this agenda by writing the
book All Kids Count on including students with disability in statewide tests
like MCAS. This bright light on our
children’s educational progress helped drive reform for them. Our book Every Single Student spelled out in
detail how our kids could be part of the academic life of the school. Our book
Literacy Resource Guide for Families and Educators put crucial new research on teaching
reading to students with disabilities in the hands of educators and families
across the country. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In the 70’s and 80’s similar kinds of transformation were
occurring in health care through the Federation’s work with the federal Bureau
of Maternal and Child Health. Our mantra was Family Centered Community Based
Coordinated Care. We used this language to
bring families and communities more powerfully into the scope of the medical
world. We worked to redefine the meaning and application of this mantra throughout
every aspect of health care. These 6 words also became law of the land for Title
5 Maternal and Child health care programs because of the work we did at the Federation
and also because of the efforts of another pioneer parent, Julie Beckett out in
Iowa. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In our work to ensure quality health care and education for
all students, it became ever more evident that many families who did not have
children with disabilities were still left out. Educationally and economically
disadvantaged families—immigrant families, families of color, non-English
speaking families—were and to a large degree are still left out. We took the knowledge and effective approaches
toward parental empowerment that the Federation had crafted over the previous
25 years and tailored them to empower parents in economically and educationally
disadvantaged families. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">How did all of this happen? Parent empowerment. In its voluntary infancy, the Federation became
the pilot project for a federally funded parent center in 1974. Federation
Founder Martha Ziegler and a core of four other parent leaders across the
country became the launching pad to make the possibility of parent-to-parent empowerment
a reality nationwide. Since 1984 this
network of parent centers is an established line item in the federal department
of education budget, with over a hundred centers now in every state and
territory. Martha Ziegler with her counterpart from the Ohio parent center actually
typed the language for this part of the statute in U.S. senator Lowell
Weicker’s office.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As wrap up: I would like to leave you with a call to
action in these areas I’ve spoken about.
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">·<span style="font-size: 7pt;">
</span><!--[endif]-->The Issue of belonging will be with us forever.
We need to keep paying attention to the meaning we attach to difference. We
must remember that our folks with disabilities are, first and last, people like
the rest of us, not simply individuals. We need to pay attention to who’s being
excluded and find ways to include them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">·<span style="font-size: 7pt;">
</span><!--[endif]-->Help Give Voice for the voiceless. Jessica drove around with a motto on her
wheelchair for years: “Not being able to
speak isn’t the same as having nothing to say.” Although Jessica has benefitted
from advances in communication technology, we still have a long way to go. There are also many others who have yet to
find their voices for other reasons. We need to continue to reach out to disenfranchised
families in disadvantaged communities. We need to listen harder and observe
ever more closely and find more ways to help. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">·<span style="font-size: 7pt;">
</span><!--[endif]-->Build Better connections to adult disability
community and to adult service agencies. One of the most important things in Jessi’s
life is being part of BCIL and ADAPT – a national activist organization of
people with disabilities. These organizations are spearheading the campaign to
defend the rights of people with disabilities to live freely in their
communities. They were key to gaining accessible transportation and for
Personal Care Assistants who are the lifeline for folks like Jessi who need
considerable help and who abhor the thought of being institutionalized.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This is a story of what a vision of belonging can look
like. As Jessica’s vision was realized, she did become a member of CitiYear,
the first person with severe disabilities. This opened the door for her to go
to College at Mass College of Art and the Museum School, and to develop herself
as an artist at the Kaji Aso art studio where she studied intensively. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">These successes would not have been possible without the Federation’s
powerful and transformational leaders. I am forever honored and grateful to
have played a part in this remarkable organization’s work and I thank each and
every one of you </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">who have been a part of Jessica’s and my journey.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- By Janet Vohs</span></div>
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Federation for Children with Special Needshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11416793662730926724noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3749924305871160951.post-70749495198076782332013-07-22T12:12:00.000-07:002013-07-22T12:12:06.983-07:00How To Tell Your Child About ADHD: Tips From The Experts <div class="MsoNormal">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Your child has been diagnosed with ADHD, and now you are
wondering the best way to tell your kid about his or her diagnosis. You've
heard different and sometimes conflicting advice from different professionals,
and now you are unsure how to proceed next.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> The best thing to do
in a situation like this is to consult the experts, and who could be a better
expert in this case than adults who were diagnosed with ADHD as children? That’s why this article focuses (pun
intended) on the experiences of Sheila* and Jake;* two Generation X-ers who grew
up in the same town, were in the same grade in school, and were both diagnosed with
ADHD at the age of eight.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Although Sheila was one of the top readers in her class, she
exhibited problematic behaviors, such as being disruptive in school and failing
to complete her work. She eventually was
evaluated by a doctor and diagnosed with Attention Deficit Hyperactivity
Disorder. The doctor told Sheila’s parents,
“We’ll start her out on a small dose of Ritalin, and see if her teachers notice
a difference. Don’t let the teachers know she’s on Ritalin, so they’ll be able
to make an unbiased observation of her behavior and any changes they notice. ”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The doctor also told her parents, “Don’t come right out and
tell your daughter the name of her disorder.
She’s too young to understand it, and it will only confuse her. Instead,
wait for an incident to occur, and use it as a teachable moment. Explain how everyone has strengths and
weaknesses, and that one of her weaknesses is that she has trouble paying
attention. When she’s older, perhaps when she’s in junior high, you can tell
her more about her specific disability.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Since Sheila’s parents wanted the best for their daughter,
and because they had the highest trust in medical professionals; they did as the
doctor said. The following school day, Sheila’s mother said to her, “Today you
are going to start taking a pill that will help you pay attention in school;
and you are not to tell anyone that you are taking it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sheila understood, from what her mother had said; that her
pill and her attention problem were private topics that were not to be talked about.
She knew that she had “special needs,”
which was the reason she was pulled out of her class to go to the Resource
Room. Some of the other students in the Resource Room included Harry*, a boy
with Down’s Syndrome; and Debbie*, who had trouble learning to read. For many years, Sheila falsely believed that
she had a milder version of whatever it was that Harry and Debbie had. In
Sheila’s mind, it made perfect sense, because they all received the same
services in school. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It wasn't until Sheila was in eighth grade and she asked her
mother, “What is the name of the special problem that I have?” that she learned
the term Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder. Still, Sheila was not comfortable telling her
friends that she had ADHD. She believed
that people would think less of her and that they would bully her. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">She was already being bullied quite a bit by her classmates;
who targeted her for being “different.” Although
she had been an outgoing child who was praised for her creativity and her
lively imagination in elementary school; Sheila became very shy and withdrawn
as a teenager. She avoided doing
anything that would make herself stand out in any way, as she was ashamed of
her difference and felt like a misfit. Rather than exploring and developing her
own unique identity; she wore clothes that would make her blend into the crowd
and listened to the same music and watched the same TV shows as her friends.
Sheila was like a tiny mouse hiding in a hole in the corner of the room;
fearing the larger predators that would destroy her if she ventured any further
out. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sheila felt alone and that there was no one with whom she
could relate- that is, until she met Jake. Sheila and Jake had attended
different elementary and middle schools, so they never crossed paths until high
school. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Jake had been diagnosed with ADHD when he was in third grade.
Like Sheila, he was very smart and had previously done well in school. However,
his grades had begun to fall drastically. He was disruptive in class, often
fidgeted, and blurted out the answer to questions rather than raising his hand
and waiting to be called. He also had trouble reading for long periods of time.
He was evaluated by the school, and then tested by a doctor, who confirmed his
diagnosis of ADHD.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Unlike Sheila’s parents, Jake’s parents did not hesitate to
tell him that he had ADHD. They told him that there was nothing wrong with
having ADHD and that it was just a different way of learning. They also told him that having ADHD didn't
make him any better or worse than anyone else, and that it was nothing to be
ashamed of. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As Jake went through school, he was not embarrassed about
his learning difference, and felt comfortable telling his friends. He even
joked about his symptoms, and didn't think it was that big a deal. He embraced his uniqueness by wearing clothes
that made him stand out, speaking out at assemblies where he vocally expressed
his opinion on various school policies, and participating in many of the
school’s clubs and activities. Jake had many
friends from a variety of cliques and circles; and he was admired for his
quick, sharp sense of humor and his refusal to blend in to the crowd. He was
proud to be a nonconformist, and didn’t care what other people thought.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Like Sheila, Jake was sometimes bullied for having learning
issues. However, Jake refused to be
defeated. He went out of his way to let the bullies know that he was enjoying
his high school years to the fullest, and that there was nothing they could do
to stop him or to change who he was. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sheila and Jake grew to become good friends. For the first time,
Sheila came to realize that she wasn't alone and that there was no shame in
being different. Eventually, she came to
embrace her differences as well, and become a more confident and outgoing
person. As an adult, Sheila is
completely open about having ADHD, and is no longer ashamed of it. She is a
happy, well-adjusted adult with a positive outlook on life, a college education,
and a productive job; as is Jake. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sheila offers the following tips for parents of children
with ADHD and similar disabilities, “Don't hesitate to let your child know the
name of their diagnosis, and let them know as much as possible so they won't be
confused or ashamed. Also, remind them
that it’s just a medical condition, and it has no impact on their worth as a
person; no more than having, say, asthma or diabetes impacts their worth as a
person.” Sheila urges parents to reject
the advice that her own parents were given about disclosure, because it gave
her the impression that her difference was something to be ashamed of. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“My parents never intended to deceive me or make me feel
ashamed,” Sheila says. “They were simply following doctor’s orders and believed
they were doing what was best for me. It
just turns out they were given bad advice.” At the same time, Sheila recognizes that the
doctor’s advice wasn't completely terrible, and she agrees about the importance
of acknowledging the child’s strengths and weaknesses. She says, “For a long time, special education
was completely focused on the kids’ weaknesses, so I guess by the time I was
diagnosed; the pendulum had swung the other way so that they were putting more
focus on the kids’ strengths, which of course is a good thing. But at the same
time you don’t want to completely ignore their weaknesses or deny that they
exist. Let them know that they have a disability and what it is; but also
reassure your child that they are so much <i>more
</i>than their disability and remind of their strengths as well.” Sheila
acknowledges that her parents constantly reminded her of her own strengths; and
she credits much of her success to her parents and their encouragement to view
herself as more than just a diagnosis. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Jake offers similar advice to parents. He says, “Be honest with your kids, but make sure you tell your kids
this is not a big deal. The worse you make it out to be and the bigger
deal you make it the worse your kids feel.”
He recalls, “My parents told me I had ADHD and that was that. I am
pretty sure they told me that it didn't make me different or better or
worse...it was just a thing.” He also
stresses the importance of parental involvement. Like Sheila, he credits his
parents with encouraging him and motivating him to always do his best. Jake refused to define himself by a label,
and he knew he was smart.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It is important to remember that the experiences of two
individuals is far from a scientific study, and the differences between the way
Sheila and Jake reacted to having ADHD could be due to a number of factors. In addition, Jake warns against a
one-size-fits-all approach to telling kids about ADHD. “Every kid is different,” he reminds parents;
adding, “For me humor worked. For some you need a more sensitive
approach.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Nevertheless, both Sheila and Jake agree that no good can
come from keeping a child’s diagnosis a secret from them. They agree that parents should avoid saying
things like “don't tell anyone you're on medication
because it's none of anyone's business.” Jake does not recall his
parents saying anything like that, and is grateful that they didn't, saying,
“Those kinds of statements usually just make kids feel more
self-conscious.” Likewise, Sheila feels
that if she had been informed about her diagnosis in a more straightforward
manner, she would have had a much more positive attitude about having ADHD when
she was younger. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Here is an article that gives additional advice to parents
of children with ADHD; and both Sheila and Jake find the advice to be helpful: <a href="http://psychcentral.com/lib/2009/how-to-talk-to-your-kids-about-adhd/">http://psychcentral.com/lib/2009/how-to-talk-to-your-kids-about-adhd/</a> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">*Names have been changed.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">By Ann Lyons</span></div>
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Federation for Children with Special Needshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11416793662730926724noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3749924305871160951.post-38866911323443560322013-05-22T13:24:00.000-07:002013-05-23T07:39:54.441-07:00In Defiance of Gravity: Part II<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Accepting Limits</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My previous <a href="http://fcsnblog.blogspot.com/2013/05/in-defiance-of-gravity-two-part-series.html" target="_blank">article</a> referenced the song
“Defying Gravity” and the lines “I’m through accepting limits, ‘cause someone
said they’re so. Some things I cannot change, but till I try, I’ll never know.”
This song can be a powerful anthem to
anyone living with a disability determined to make the most of their situation
and prove to the world that they are so much more than a diagnosis. In the
first of this two-part series, I gave several examples of times in my own life
when I overcame obstacles and proved that I am capable of succeeding despite my
differences.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">However, there are some times when, no matter how hard we try;
we discover that there are some things that we just aren't capable of doing. My
ADHD is not going to magically go away someday, and there will always be
limitations on the things that I can do.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For instance, learning to drive was a struggle for me. As a
teenager, the regular driver’s education program offered at my school wasn't enough to prepare me for my license, and had to take several additional lessons
with a special alternative driving school. Although many people with ADHD are
able to learn to drive without any problem, it wasn't the case for me as I also
have other sensory and processing issues, including NLD (non-verbal learning
disability). When I am focused on looking straight ahead, my brain turns off
the signals from my peripheral vision in order to prevent constant <a href="http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/sensory+overload">sensory overload</a>,
a common condition in people with ADHD. I also lack the ability to perceive
distance and depth; and to process spatial directions. As a result, driving on
the highways and on city streets was impossible for me. I managed to pass my
driver’s test and get my license, but I only felt comfortable driving on the
suburban streets of the quiet New England town where I lived. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When I moved to an urban neighborhood as an adult, I had to
learn to drive all over again. I took lessons with the same alternative driving
school I had as a teenager, but this time, I was unable to progress. The
combination of my ADHD and other learning disabilities just made it too
difficult to process all of the necessary cues on the road to drive safely. I
made the decision to stop driving altogether. I am fortunate that Boston has
such an excellent public transportation system and that my family and friends
are willing to drive me places. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">At first, I was ashamed and felt like a quitter. I kept
thinking of all my mentors who gave me advice such as, “If you try hard enough,
you can succeed at anything,” and felt that the reason why I failed to learn to
drive was because I hadn't tried hard enough. Even worse, I felt that I had let
my mentors down by giving up. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Then I remembered “Defying Gravity” again. I took another
look at the lyrics of the song, “Some things I cannot change, but till I try I’ll
never know.” Driving was an instance
where I had certainly tried my best; and I discovered that this was something
that I could not change, nor would I ever be able to change. Now, it was time
for me to accept limits- not because “someone said they’re so” like in the
song; but because I had tried my best and came to realize that some things are
beyond my control. I realized that it wasn't worth the possibility of getting
in an accident where I could injure myself or someone else just to prove
something. This wasn't like learning to dance on pointe or auditioning for a
play, because safety was a real issue.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Once, when I was out with my friend Lorie and she was
driving us on the highway, I sighed and said, “I wish I that I could drive,
too, so that I wouldn't always have to rely on you.” Lorie just laughed and
said, “Becky, I've told you a billion times, I don’t mind driving you!” I said,
“I know you don’t, but sometimes I wish I could be normal like you and be able
to do all the things you can do.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Lorie then said, “Okay, first of all, none of us are normal.
Normal is just a setting on the washing machine. And secondly, there are so
many things that you can do that I can’t. You can sing, and play guitar and
piano, and you’re such a good writer, and you’re so creative with words. I can’t
do any of those things, and sometimes I wish I could. And just because you
can’t drive a car doesn't mean that you’re not in control of your life in other
ways.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I took a minute to muse on Lorie’s words, and I then I said,
“So I guess what you’re saying is, even though I’m physically in the passenger
seat of your car, I’m still in the driver’s seat when it comes to the road of
life!” </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Lorie laughed again, and said, “See, that’s what I mean
about you being creative with words. I never could have come up with something
like that!”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I realize that although I have a disability, I am not
without ability. All of us have limitations, even people without diagnosed
disabilities. There’s a reason why they are called <i>dis</i>abilities and not <i>in</i>abilities.
There are some things that I am not capable of doing, but that doesn't mean
that I am helpless or a failure. As many have said, the only real failure is
the failure to try. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Once you have tried your best, accepting that you can’t do
something is not a sign of weakness or defeat; but rather a sign of strength
and maturity. It takes a certain amount of strength to be realistic and
acknowledge your shortcomings; especially if you've been told your whole life,
“there’s nothing you can’t do if you try.” Humility is not easy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So, when is it appropriate to keep trying your best until
you get it right, and when is it appropriate to accept limits? When you are
unable to progress any further and the life, health, or safety of yourself or
someone else is at risk; that is when it is time to stop trying. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It’s also important to accept limits when looking for jobs
and choosing a career. As I discovered as a teenager, it can be fun and
exciting to challenge yourself to rise above your limitations by taking a class
or starting a hobby that requires skills or abilities that you don’t currently have.
However, it is not a good idea to use this same philosophy when applying for
jobs. For instance, if you are not good at math, do not take a job at a bank
because you want to use it as an opportunity to improve your math skills. Or,
if you are deathly afraid of snakes and rodents and want to get over your
phobia; it would be unwise to take a job at a pet store. You would be putting
yourself in a situation where you would have to deal with a serious anxiety
trigger every day, and you would be unable to effectively perform your job. In
the real world, people will be negatively impacted if you make too many
mistakes or cannot perform the basic duties of your job. So do not apply for a job unless you possess
the necessary skills or are confident that you can learn them without too much
effort. For instance, I've only used PowerPoint a few times, but I would not be
put off by a job description that required “proficiency in PowerPoint” because
I am confident that I could easily master the intricacies of PowerPoint if
given the opportunity. However, I have tried to learn to sew several times and
discovered that my poor fine motor skills made it nearly impossible. Therefore,
it would not be wise for me to take a job as a tailor or a seamstress. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Above all; try not to be disheartened over the skills that you've attempted to learn and discovered that you weren't able to master. Instead,
focus on the things that you can do and the skills that you have, and you will
be “flying so high, defying gravity!” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">By Becky Rizoli</span></div>
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Federation for Children with Special Needshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11416793662730926724noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3749924305871160951.post-25912652043879929202013-05-09T10:10:00.001-07:002013-05-10T09:34:29.279-07:00In Defiance of Gravity: A Two-Part Series<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><em> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></em></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Part I: Rising Above Obstacles</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">One of my favorite songs is “Defying Gravity” from the
musical Wicked. It contains the
lyrics, “I’m through accepting limits, ‘cause someone said they’re so. Some
things I cannot change, but till I try, I’ll never know.” To me, this song, </span><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MslDnwerQRA"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">performed by Idina Menzel</span></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">,
expresses the determination that I have always had to strive for success
despite my neurological differences, and my desire to challenge myself in new
ways rather than defining myself by a label or a disability. I was fortunate to
have parents and mentors who emphasized the importance of focusing on what I can do rather than what I can’t. I carried that philosophy with me
throughout my life, and I am proud to say that it has led me to success.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In middle school and high school, I took a number of honors
and Advanced Placement classes. I was the one of the first students on an IEP
to take some of these classes. Some of my teachers were hesitant to make
accommodations to classes that they had been teaching for years; arguing that
since I was smart enough to be in an advanced class, I was “too smart” to need
accommodations. After these teachers were informed that my disability was
related to attention and processing rather than intelligence, and that they
were required by state and Federal law to follow the guidelines in my IEP; I
was able to do very well in their classes. I even got an A+ on my final project
from the teacher considered to be the hardest and most critical grader in the
entire school. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My success in these classes
inspired other students on IEP’s to sign up for the classes in the years that
followed; and they found that the teachers had become much more flexible about
making accommodations.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My determination to rise above obstacles was not limited to
academics; but extended to extracurricular activities as well. When I was five,
my parents were advised by professionals to sign me up for ballet classes; in the
hopes that they would improve my poor coordination and gross motor delays that
resulted from my sensory integration disability. I enjoyed my dance lessons and
also found a new mentor in my dance instructor; and continued to study with her
throughout the years. Like all young ballerinas, I was eager to progress to the
advanced level of ballet known as “pointe,” where the dancer performs on her
toes, rather than the balls of her feet as beginning ballet students do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pointe requires the dancer to have significant
muscle strength in her quadriceps (upper thigh muscles) after taking several
years of ballet classes, and she wears special toe shoes instead of regular
soft ballet shoes. Because of my delays, I was still dancing in soft shoes at
the age of 14, while the other dancers my age had been on pointe for several
years. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was aware that pointe would be
more of a challenge for me than for others and that I might not ever acquire
the muscular strength necessary for pointe. However, I was determined to dance
on pointe and I wanted to at least give it a try. My dance teacher allowed me
to train for pointe, and by the end of my freshman year in high school; she
told me I was ready. I got my first pair of toe shoes, and the following year,
I performed a solo on pointe in the dance recital. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In addition to my attention and motor issues, I also had a
speech disorder as a teenager. I spoke unintelligibly and often stuttered.
Nevertheless, I did not let it prevent me from auditioning for my high school’s
theater productions. I spent a lot of time practicing my monologue for
auditions; and discovered that when I was reciting from a script I had
memorized, I was able to speak completely fluently as I was putting all of my
focus on how I was speaking rather
than what I was saying. I introduced
myself to the theater teacher; who later told me that he initially was hesitant
to cast me in a speaking part because of my speech disorder; but then when he
heard me read from the script at auditions, he was so impressed that he gave me
a significant speaking part. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was quite nervous at first; but he worked with me to make
me feel at ease and perform my role with an acting ability that I hadn’t even
known I possessed before. On the opening night of the play, the audience was
fascinated by my performance. People couldn’t believe that this was the same
girl who used to stutter every time she opened her mouth; and I was showered
with praises and admiration when I walked out into the lobby after the show. I
felt like a Hollywood star, and it was the highlight of my high school
experience. Today, I no longer have a speech impediment, and I believe that
acting played a role (excuse the pun) in making my speech fluent.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Throughout my college and into my adult life; I have
approached each new situation with the same determination and confidence that I
had in high school when taking an advanced placement class, learning to dance
on pointe, and acting in plays. I attended a highly selective college and
graduated in four years with a GPA of 3.16. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wrote for the college newspaper, led a
student retreat where I gave a talk, participated in an outreach trip to the
Bronx over spring break, took voice lessons, sang in the college chorus, performed
in a musical theater production, was on the dance team, served on a committee
to educate students about violence prevention and safety issues, and still
managed to find plenty of time to socialize and make many wonderful friends
that would last a lifetime. Today, I am married, have been employed at the Federation
for Children for Special Needs in a variety of roles for over a decade, and own
a home. I also have written a book (pending publishing) about my experiences
growing up with ADHD, and have started writing a fictional novel. In addition,
I sing in my church’s choir every Sunday, have taught myself to play guitar,
and have written some original songs. I am also very passionate about politics
and this past fall I volunteered on a campaign to get a candidate elected.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t get this far
by playing it safe. Had I not taken the risks; I never would have been able to
achieve all that I have. It certainly hasn’t been easy for me, but the results
were well worth it. I hope that you can be inspired by my story and learn that
you, too, are more than just a disability or a diagnosis. Don’t be discouraged
just because you have a specific condition that presents challenges. Just like
the song says, some things you cannot change, but until you try you’ll never
know!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This is not to say that I have succeeded at everything I
tried, or that I have completely surpassed all the limitations that my specific
condition presents. In fact, you may be wondering, what happens when you try
your best at something and discover that you aren’t able to overcome obstacles or master the skill? And are
there times or situations when it’s best not
to try something new or to give up at attempting? I will address these
questions in the second part of this series. Stay tuned!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">By Becky Rizoli<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Federation for Children with Special Needshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11416793662730926724noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3749924305871160951.post-31732581686011157312013-04-10T12:23:00.000-07:002013-04-10T12:23:01.305-07:00My "Challenging" Brother<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #333333; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My
brother went in for an MRI a few weeks ago. As the nurse was sedating him, he announced
that he had “three Mommys” - his birth mom (or “tummy mommy”), our Mom, and me.
My brother is twelve years younger than I am; he was five when we adopted him,
and he’s ten now. His unique characteristics, the ones which have him on an
IEP, are fluid and have changed in the last five years. When my parents adopted
my brother, his speech was severely under-developed due to neglect he had
suffered while in the custody of the state. He had no problems with emotional
connection, but he stuttered and cluttered, sometimes beyond comprehension.
After two years with his speech therapist, my brother’s funny, sharp commentary
came out in clean, rounded syllables. His consonants were distinct and his
expressions purposeful.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #333333; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #333333; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As
a military family, our status changed when we welcomed Bryce. The Air Force
considers him an “exceptional dependent,” and because of this my father is
unable to work on certain bases which can’t provide the care Bryce needs. Though
Bryce has worked with a wonderful team of professionals, therapists and pediatricians
and neurologists, my parents have fought an uphill battle for him at school.
Although the faculty at Bryce’s public school know his ADHD diagnosis, we
realized the lunch aides were ignorant to it when they demanded he sit with his
head on the table and be quiet during lunch, something my brother simply cannot
do. (Don’t worry, my dad busted into the main office heroically and demanded an
explanation.)<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #333333; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #333333; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Because
of these difficulties, my mother has trouble deciding how much of my brother’s
background should be public knowledge. Dealing with the school systems in
Albuquerque is frustrating, as teachers are often unaware of the effect Bryce’s
childhood trauma had on his brain. Without violating my brother’s privacy, I
can explain that he spent the first five years of his life in fight-or-flight
mode. Recent neurology studies show us extreme stress in toddlers can change
the way they view and interact with the world. As that same neurologist told my
mother, “He may not remember what happened to him as a baby, but his brain
chemistry remembers.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #333333; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #333333; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">His
pediatric neurologist called him “twice exceptional,” meaning his high IQ
doesn’t match his ability to focus or reason with himself. He came to us with
an ADHD diagnosis, but recent evaluations have doctors suspicious that he was
misdiagnosed. His current pediatrician believes Bryce actually has Tourette’s
Syndrome. It’s difficult to view my brother through the same objective,
diagnosing lens I use when I’m mentoring kids with special needs. I know his
verbal tics, the throat-clearing and low humming, are symptoms of his Tourette’s
syndrome, but in my mind they’re part of his personality’s unique poetry. He
breathes differently when he’s concentrating, and he makes odd-looking faces to
release tension. His impulsiveness, I learned in college and in trauma training
through the Federation, is a sign of his altered brain chemistry.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #333333; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #333333; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When
my brother says he has three “Mommys,” he’s pointing out that his life defies
social norms. He has a nuclear family who loves him intensely, and an extended
family, four aunts and nine cousins, all of whom support him and make him feel
permanently adored. He likes the boys in his SPED classroom, and he comprehends
their special needs the way they incorporate his. Some of my brother’s friends
can’t attend birthday parties because of the loud sounds, and another prefers
to trick-or-treat during the day because of vision impairment. My brother
simply works around it, the way we work around him wanting to play chess over
and over as he grunts and squints over the board. We can’t go to quiet Italian
restaurants, but Bryce likes Red Robin better anyway (and so do I). Bryce is a
Webelos Scout, he’s in the Math Club, and he won First Place in the Pinewood
Derby. He reads Goosebumps books and novels by Jerry Spinelli obsessively,
holding up his little hand to keep us from talking to him when he’s finishing a
chapter.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #333333; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #333333; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Bryce
is stubborn and perceptive and sarcastic, and he’s “a challenge” the way reading
a great book is a challenge. He’d probably like that comparison—he’d insist on
being “Ghost Beach” or “Monster Blood IV.”</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #333333; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #333333; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">By Emily Gaudette</span></span></div>
Federation for Children with Special Needshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11416793662730926724noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3749924305871160951.post-32659370914375798432013-03-14T11:28:00.001-07:002013-03-14T11:30:34.970-07:00Maternal Love<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
“You are so crazy, why do you sacrifice in raising your
child all by yourself, without her father and in a foreign country?” complain
my friends. “Many families have a child like yours and live happily here, where
they have their family and community to support their efforts.”</div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Such repetitive questions and phrases no longer affect me,
for if they are not in my shoes, they can never understand WHY. My child did
not meet any of her childhood milestones. She was seen by many different
doctors at big hospitals, but no one could tell what was wrong, why she can’t
talk at age three. No school would accept her, as she was a very active little
girl who could never sit still at the table or follow a teacher’s directions.
She hardly slept at night without being cradled in our arms. She could not chew
or drink from a bottle or cup by herself at age three. Her second home in her
first three years was her private doctor’s clinic, as she visited him every
month. Yes, I could have support from our family members, but where does my
child belong when so many places excluded her due to her deficits?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Culturally, people cannot accept the fact that a married
woman left a child with special needs behind to go abroad for advanced study,
and then brought the child to join her without her husband. Can’t you
understand: my life is my daughter’s
life. Regardless of public rumor, my perspective of caring for a child with
special needs cannot be explained simply by saying, but by doing - to prove
that my child can learn and flourish like any other child.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Regardless of the difficulties of being alone in this faraway
land, her smile and happiness bring me such strength and energy. Regardless of
obstacles as I balance life and work, her daily tiny progress brightens my days.
Regardless of challenges in navigating a complicated system of care,
appropriate services that meet her needs are all that I care about. Can’t you
see; she missed her interventions in her first five crucial years. It is said,
“Better late than never.” I would feel even more guilty if I took away her only
opportunity to grow.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It has been almost four years since my child received both
medical and educational care in America. Challenge after challenge, but she has
become a totally different girl. Now, she communicates using signs and her
talker; I have come to believe that being nonverbal does not mean she has
nothing to say. She signs, in response, “I love you” by crossing her arms in
front of her chest when I say ”Me yeu con lam,” or “I love you” in Vietnamese.
She hugs me tight when I am upset, as I believe that she is like any other
child who does not want her mom to be upset, though she used to have no response
to any emotion. She can now put on her pajamas and turn the light off herself
before bedtime, as I believe she is grown up enough to do so. She can also help
me to wash dishes after our meals. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
These may seem to be small milestones to many of you, but for
my child with multiple disabilities, all of them are really meaningful signs
that she is blossoming. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Perspective from maternal love is that you love the whole
child as it is her disability make her special. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
By Oanh Bui,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A proud mother of Tiny with Dup. 15q and PDD-NOS.<o:p></o:p></div>
Federation for Children with Special Needshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11416793662730926724noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3749924305871160951.post-18400166626433576282013-03-05T08:32:00.001-08:002013-03-05T08:32:33.064-08:00Transitioning to College with ADHD<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I recently came across an article online titled, “Teens With
ADHD May Need Help Transitioning To College.”
As a person with ADHD, the title
of the article seemed like an understatement to me. I thought back on the first semester of my
freshman year in college when I was overwhelmed with the many transitions in my
life. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I went on to read the article, which turned out to have some
very helpful study tips for college freshmen with ADHD. If you are a college student or a
college-bound high school student with ADHD or similar disabilities, or the
parent, teacher, or friend of one; I highly recommend reading this <a href="http://www.mentalhelp.net/poc/view_doc.php?type=news&id=148713&cn=3" target="_blank">article</a>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In addition to the tips in the article, I also would
recommend that teens with ADHD and similar disabilities begin their transition
to college while they are still in high school. Transitions tend to be particularly
difficult for people with ADHD, and the first semester in college is one of the
biggest transitions in a person’s life.
Not only are college freshmen transitioning to a new school, new
surroundings, and new classmates; but for most people, it’s also the first time
they have ever lived away from their family and the home they have known their
whole life. While many freshmen are
eager to move out and be independent, experiencing so many changes in a short
time can be quite daunting for someone with ADHD. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You can start preparing for college by educating yourself
about your disability and the accommodations you will need to succeed in
college. When you go to visit colleges, schedule an appointment to meet with
someone in the campus office that provides accommodations to students with
disabilities. Some colleges call it the Disability Services Office or the
Center for Students with Disabilities; while other colleges offer these
services from the Academic Dean’s office.
During this appointment, don’t let your parents do all the talking. Your parents won’t be there to advocate for
you in college, so use the time to practice self-advocacy. Tell the person at
the college the name of your diagnosis and any accommodations you may need; and
ask him or her about the services they provide for students with
disabilities. This will be good practice
for when you are in college and need to ask professors for accommodations.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Speaking of which, don’t be shy about letting professors
know that you have disabilities and need accommodations. As the article stated, some students are
hesitant to ask for the help they need because of the stigma surrounding
ADHD. However, if you don’t speak out,
you will not get the services that you need and that you have a <b>LEGAL RIGHT</b> to obtain under the
Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA).
The ADA also makes it illegal for a professor, teacher, or boss to
discriminate against you for having ADHD or any other disability. So, don’t be
afraid to speak out. The law is on your side!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Matt*, a young man with ADHD, agrees about the importance of
reaching out to your professors. He offers the following advice to college
students with learning issues, “Meet
deadlines, meet the professors, and most of all reach out for help when you
need it because no one will throw you a life line when you are drowning if you
don't splash around a bit.” Although Matt did well in high school and made good
grades, he struggled when he got to college without having his parents around
to keep him on track. He eventually transferred to another college, where he
graduated with honors and made the Dean’s List every semester. Matt is now a
successful accountant in Washington, DC, where the readers of a local paper voted
him as one of the area’s top businessmen. He credits a large part of his success to
recognizing that he needed help and not being afraid to ask for it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Should you disclose to your roommates and friends that you
have ADHD? It is entirely up to you, of course, but remember that having ADHD
is nothing to be ashamed of. If you
decide to be open about your diagnosis, you don’t need to say to every person
you meet, “Hi, my name is _____ and I have ADHD!” but you may wish to tell your
roommates and maybe a few close friends.
I recommend that you say something like, “Oh, just so you know, I have
Attention Deficit Disorder, so if you ever catch me staring off into space or
not paying attention to you, don’t be alarmed and don’t think I’m ignoring you
on purpose.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As a college freshman, I was reluctant at first to tell my
peers about my ADHD. In retrospect, I regret that decision, because they often
thought I was deliberately tuning them out or not paying attention to them, and
they thought I was rude and didn't want anything to do with me. As a result, I was very lonely for most of my
first semester and didn't have many friends. When I finally gained the courage
to tell my peers about having ADHD, I was pleasantly surprised to find out that
no one shunned me or thought less of me.
Instead, they were grateful that I was honest about myself. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Matt agrees about the importance of disclosing. He says, “When I was young, I learned that
it was nothing to be ashamed of so, throughout high school and even into
college I sort of laughed it off and joked about it. That seemed to put others
at ease.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It is also important to attend
every single class. Many incoming college freshman think that they will be able
to get away with skipping classes without anyone noticing; as professors don’t
take attendance like teachers do in high school. However, if you deliberately
skip your classes, you will miss out on important information, you won’t learn
anything, and when it comes time for the final exam, you’ll get an F. One
reason why I was able to do well in college and graduate in four years was
because I attended all my classes. The only time I skipped class was when I was
too sick, and on those days I made sure to contact my professors or another
student in the class to find out what I missed.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Another factor that contributed
to my success in college was living in <span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">substance
free housing. I had to be cautious about consuming alcohol as it would have a
negative interaction with my ADHD medication. If you are on similar medication,
you might choose to live in a substance free dorm, with other people who have
chosen to abstain from drinking or at least to only drink in moderation. This
way, you will avoid peer pressure from your roommates and hall mates to
drink. Some people will tell you that
drinking is part of the whole college experience, but it </span></span><span style="line-height: 18px;">doesn't</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"> have to be. While
I can’t say that I </span></span><i style="line-height: 115%;">never </i><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">partied in
college, I only had one drink per night if I drank at all. The residents of my dorm were allowed to
attend parties in other dorms on campus; as long as we did not return to the
building visibly intoxicated.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">I sometimes wondered, “When I am
older, will I look back on my college years and regret that I </span></span><span style="line-height: 18px;">didn't</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"> party more?”
Today, as I think back to my time as a college student, I can honestly say that
I have no regrets. I never passed out or threw up from drinking too much, and I
never woke up in a stranger’s bed wondering where I was. I never had to be sent
to the hospital for alcohol poisoning, I never had a hangover, and I never did
anything embarrassing like stripping in public or drunk-dialing an ex-boyfriend
because I was intoxicated. Instead, I remember my college years as a time of
personal, spiritual, and intellectual growth; when I made many wonderful
friendships that have lasted to this day and will continue to last for the rest
of our lives, and when I learned to accept myself and to stop being ashamed of
my differences and to live life to the fullest.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My
final piece of advice is to be patient and flexible. It takes time to get
acclimated to new surroundings and new people. Don’t be concerned if it takes
you a while to make new friends or feel at home. Get involved in activities on
campus, and keep an open mind. While my
initial transition to college was very stressful, my college experience turned
out to be among the most wonderful times of my life.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I hope that someday you can say the
same.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">*Names have been changed.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">By Becky Rizoli</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Federation for Children with Special Needshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11416793662730926724noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3749924305871160951.post-91268701144092981062013-02-27T07:13:00.000-08:002013-02-27T07:14:34.238-08:00“These Are the Days of Miracle and Wonder” - Paul Simon<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.5pt;">Make no mistake; November 2012
was an historic month. The momentous news began on Tuesday, November 6<sup>th</sup>,
and continued over the next several days but it had nothing to do with the
election. On that day, my daughter Grace, a 25-year-old adult with Down
syndrome, had her annual Individual Support Plan (ISP) Meeting. The meeting has
been held each year since she entered the world of adult services and includes
staff from the program she attends, a representative from the Massachusetts
Department of Developmental Services (DDS), Grace, her mother and myself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.5pt;">During the meeting, the Career
Development Coordinator at her program mentioned the possibility of some leads
coming together that could result in a job interview for Grace. We’d been
hearing this for a few years so the news was met with cautious optimism at
best.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.5pt;">By Thursday, the phone call
came: Grace had a job interview scheduled for next Tuesday at a small local
chain restaurant to become a lunchtime hostess. The schedule for the position would
be 2-3 days per week, 2-3 hours per day. If you listen closely, you can hear
the heavenly tones of a host of angels singing. The majority of you can’t hear
it; but the few who can know exactly what I’m talking about.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.5pt;">On Friday of that week, while
the rest of the country was either rejoicing at the election results, or
wringing their hands over what might have been, I found myself driving to work
almost being brought to tears thinking about the real possibility of Grace
welcoming patrons to a restaurant and showing them to their table. I felt
chills when I shared the news with a friend at work.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.5pt;">It’s been 25 years, 8 months, 25
days, and 13 hours since Grace was born. It’s been 25 years, 8 months, 25 days,
12 hours and 40 minutes that we’ve lived with the knowledge of Grace having
Down syndrome. Twenty minutes after she was born, the pediatrician we had
chosen from a Fort Myers, Florida Yellow Pages advised us that because of Down
syndrome, Grace would never walk or talk, and would not live very far into her
teenage years. We probably shouldn’t even take her home was his advice. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.5pt;">His three options, in order of <i>his</i> preferences, were 1) put her in an
institution where she would be “well cared for”; 2) put her up for adoption, “there are lots of
loving foster parents out there who would accept her into their home,” (a very
curious suggestion looking back at it); or 3) “take her home with you”. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.5pt;">We chose Door Number 3. Nostradamus
he was not.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.5pt;">Grace not only walks and talks,
she slices and dices. She can dance circles around most adults (tap, jazz, she
is adept at many) and impresses everyone with her technological know-how,
including programming apps on her iPhone5. She is active in a social club,
plays sports year round, and has favorite TV shows. Curious about who came in 6<sup>th</sup> in
America’s Next Top Model Cycle 12? Grace knows.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.5pt;">What had been lacking in her
life was purpose. I know her purpose in the grand sense; I found mine thanks to
her. I mean she lacked her own purpose. All she really wanted was to get up in
the morning and go someplace where she could be a contributing member of
society. It was such a simple request, yet a very complicated challenge.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.5pt;">How big was this job interview news
within our family? Her mother, stepmother and I were ABUZZ since we had heard.
We coached Grace with tips on how to interview appropriately, bought nice
clothes for the meeting, strategized about the transportation for the day. This
was BIG.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.5pt;"><br />
The following Tuesday, November 13<sup>th</sup>, she interviewed for the first real
job of her adult life. A few days later Grace was hired to be the lunchtime
hostess at the restaurant. Cue the angels again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.5pt;">A week or so later, I picked Grace
up at the end of her first day on the job. I asked how her day was. She began
by describing all of the tasks for which she was responsible. After discussing
her day, including the best part to her — the discount employee lunch menu — she
sat back in her seat very contented. I sensed she was contemplating, replaying
her first day on the job. After a few moments, she blurted out, “Today was
AWESOME!” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.5pt;">There aren’t many things in
life which excite Grace to the point of “awesome”. Accomplishing her goal of employment
and earning her own paycheck clearly is one of them. Awesome indeed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.5pt;">Woody Allen said, “80% of success is showing up.” Grace has been
showing up for over 25 years. She is beyond ready to enjoy her next success. This
is the chance of a lifetime for her. It’s funny how the seemingly simplest
things in life can be the most profound.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11.5pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11.5pt;"> By John Sullivan</span></div>
Federation for Children with Special Needshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11416793662730926724noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3749924305871160951.post-61031457437762713362013-02-20T07:06:00.002-08:002013-02-20T08:01:18.487-08:00Kindness of Strangers<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My 11 year old son Ryan has ASD. When he was younger, things
were a lot harder. We’d usually hit a spot during the day when he’d turn into
the Tazmanian Devil if something didn't go his way, and it would take most of
the day to recover from that (for both of us).
</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As I look back, I feel grateful that The Taz doesn't show up as much as
he use to and most days are good days.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">However, on the morning of Ryan’s 11<sup>th</sup> birthday,
we were visited by the Taz at Dunkin' Donuts because they were out of Ryan’s
favorite drink. It was a bad morning. I was trying to quickly remind Ryan about
all of the coping skills he’s learned while he defiantly body surfed on the
table and yelled out “YOU KNOW THAT’S THE ONLY DRINK I LIKE HERE! FOR CRYING
OUT LOUD, MOM! I NEED MY DRINK!” We were getting all kinds of stares and I saw
a few people shake their heads in disapproval because I knew we looked like a
spoiled brat and a mother who had lost control. After a while, I physically
dragged Ryan out of the store and wondered for the millionth time why we
couldn't just do a simple task that others probably take for granted. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As we pulled out of the parking lot, a man who had been in
the store pulled up next to me and motioned for me to put my window down. I
could feel my blood pressure rise.
Against my better judgment, I put my window down. I was ready to hear
this man tell me that I was a bad parent, and that Ryan was spoiled and that
parents like me were what was wrong with this world. I was ready to take my
anger out on this guy. I was going to let him have it. I was going to yell that
I’ve been given more than I can handle and he should mind his own business and
be grateful he can enter and exit a store without causing a scene. Oh, I was
ready. Bring it, Mister.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Instead, the man said “Hey. It looks like you were having a
hard time earlier and I just wanted to say hang in there.” I almost couldn’t
process his sentence. Hard time. Hang in there. “Well, he has Autism, so …”, I
stammered. This kind stranger answered with “Ah, my nephew does too. It’s
really hard on my brother. Hang in there.” Hang in there. I couldn’t believe
it. I wondered how many other people in the store weren’t judging, but were
maybe feeling bad for us and wondering how they could help. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The man pulled away and I looked at Ryan and said “Let’s try
this again” and we went back in. He used his coping skills to settle on water
for his drink and thanks to the kindness of a stranger, Ryan and I had a nice
morning. </span><o:p></o:p><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">By Mary-Ellen Kramer</span></div>
Federation for Children with Special Needshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11416793662730926724noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3749924305871160951.post-44401575115599585332012-09-05T13:43:00.001-07:002012-09-05T13:43:08.269-07:00Not Letting Disability Stand in the Way of Success<span style="font-size: large;">
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">If you have a
disability, you may feel that you’ll never reach your potential or be as
successful as your friends without disabilities. You probably have been
frustrated as you see your classmates accomplish tasks and goals more quickly
than you do, and wonder if you are destined for a life of failure and
disappointment.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><br /><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">
However, many people with disabilities have gone on to lead successful,
productive lives full of personal and professional accomplishments. Chances
are, you’ve even heard of some of them!<o:p></o:p></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">Justin
Timberlake has OCD (obsessive-compulsive disorder) as well as ADHD (Attention
Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder). He first gained fame in the late 1990′s as a
member of boy band N’Sync, perhaps best known for their hit song “Bye Bye Bye.”
After N’Sync broke up in the early 2000′s, Timberlake went on to become one of
the biggest celebrities of the 21st century. In addition to writing, producing,
and releasing two solo CD’s of his own, he has also starred in a number of
highly successful movies including <i>The Social Network</i> and <i>Friends
with Benefits</i>, written and produced songs for other artists, and won
multiple awards, including three Emmys and six Grammys. Other celebrities with
OCD include actor Leonardo DiCaprio, soccer player David Beckham, and actress
Megan Fox.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">Michael Phelps
was diagnosed with ADHD as a young boy. He had so much trouble sitting still
and paying attention in school that his teachers told his mother that he would
never be able to focus on anything. He was able to channel his energy into
swimming, and went on to become a competitive swimmer. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He proved his teachers wrong by winning 19
gold medals in the Olympics and breaking the Olympic record.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Other celebrities with ADHD include “Dancing
With The Stars” finalist Karina Smirnoff, actor and rapper Will Smith, actor
and comedian Jim Carrey, and pop superstar Britney Spears.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">Samuel L.
Jackson had a serious stutter as a child. At the suggestion of his speech
therapist, he got involved in acting as a way to improve his speech. He grew up
to become an Academy Award-winning actor, starring in movies such as <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Pulp Fiction</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Shaft.</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Other celebrities who
once had speech impediments include Bruce Willis and Julia Roberts.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">John
Mellencamp has spina bifida, a disorder of the spinal column. His disability
didn’t stop him from becoming one of America’s most beloved rock singers and a
member of the Rock And Roll Hall of Fame. His numerous hit songs include “Small
Town,” “Little Pink Houses,” “Jack and Diane,” and “Hurts So Good.” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><a href="http://www.waisman.wisc.edu/~rowley/sb-kids/famous.html" rel="nofollow" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: large;">Other celebrities with spina bifida</span></a><span style="font-size: large;"> include
Grammy-winning folk/country singer Lucinda Williams and pro golfer Sebi Garcia.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">The hit
television series <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Glee</i> includes
several cast members with disabilities. Jane Lynch, who stars as cheerleading
coach Sue Sylvester, is deaf in one ear. Lauren Potter (Becky Jackson) and
Robin Trocki (Jean Sylvester) both have Down Syndrome. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Also, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The
Glee Project</i>, a reality TV show/talent competition in which the winner gets
cast on <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Glee</i>, included three contestants
with disabilities this past summer. Ali Strocker has been paralyzed since she
was in a car accident as a toddler, and uses a wheelchair. Charlie Lubeck has
ADHD and autism. Mario Bonds is blind. Although none of them won the
competition, the disability community became more represented on TV as a result
of these three finalists. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">So, if you
have a disability, think of all that these celebrities have accomplished, and
say, “bye bye bye” to the notion that you’ll never be successful! </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"></span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">- Authored by Becky
Rizoli</span> </span></span></div>
Federation for Children with Special Needshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11416793662730926724noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3749924305871160951.post-5679022739372305342012-08-08T11:59:00.000-07:002012-08-08T11:59:09.381-07:00Advocacy or Self-Advocacy: There is a DifferenceAdvocacy. Advocate. Self-advocacy.
Advocating. These are the buzzwords in the disability world. The ones thrown
around at conferences, IEP meetings and donor banquets. They are important to
professionals, parents and people with disabilities. However, they mean
different things in all three of these contexts, and that’s not always
acknowledged. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
When I was a kid, my mom worked a
lot with other parents of children with disabilities. She taught them to
advocate for their children. I grew familiar with stories about fighting for
the accommodations needed to make sure a child “survived and thrived” in
school. And even though every parent loves their child exactly as they are—they
are still working to raise the bar, the way any parent is. The thing is,
parents have a comparison. They have experienced life as an able-bodied person.
Maybe they even have other, able-bodied children. Thus, their advocacy becomes
about making sure their child has “the same opportunities as any child” and
“isn’t seen any differently” than an able-bodied (or “typical”) child would be.
<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
Growing up in this environment
taught me a lot about standing up for myself. It taught me that I am entitled
to accommodation when I need it. That the playing field can be, and should be,
evened. But it did not prepare me for the difference between advocacy and
self-advocacy. <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
I don’t have an able-bodied life to
compare mine to, and I no longer have my parents around all the time to make up
for the basic aspects of living that my disability makes difficult. When your
body makes it difficult to cook, clean or walk to the T, accommodation becomes
less about leveling the playing field, and more about getting through the day.
Advocacy isn’t about fancy things, like new equipment that will make you the
envy of your classmates. It’s about telling your roommates that you can’t lug
the trash bag down the stairs. It’s about having to admit that, in fact, your
life <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">is</i> different. And not in the, “all-of
our-lives-are-different,” or “celebrate uniqueness” way parents talk about. In
a very real way, day-to-day living is harder than it is for most people. <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
One of the elements that always
bothered me about parent advocates were the speeches where some parent would
talk about mourning the expectations they had for their child. Think of it this
way: A kid with cerebral palsy might not play Major League Baseball. But that
able-bodied kid the parent dreamed of might not have either. Who knows, the
child with CP might. Or they might go on to be a baseball commentator. The
possibilities are there. <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
That’s what parents have to focus
on. Their advocacy opens the door for possibilities. That way, when their kid
is an adult struggling with the day-to-day tasks of daily living, they’re
already on the path toward achievement. <o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
I know that I can do whatever I want
to do. My parents ingrained that in me. They didn’t tell me it’d be this
difficult. I’ve had to learn that for myself. And I think that’s as it should
be.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
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- <span style="font-family: Calibri;">Authored by Chelsey Blair Kendig</span></div>Federation for Children with Special Needshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11416793662730926724noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3749924305871160951.post-53643043411391945852012-03-16T08:59:00.000-07:002012-03-16T08:59:54.029-07:00Mixing Up the Mainstream<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">When I entered the school system in 1992, my parents were quick to advocate for my right to be educated inclusively. I was physically, not cognitively, disabled. Had I been put in a segregated classroom, I would have been the only verbal child, and the only mobile child. The school administrators believed I could “set an example.” My mother pointed out that I would have no one to be “my example” and enrolled me in mainstream education.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I benefitted greatly from inclusive education, mostly because there was no reason I shouldn’t. However, I became the only physically disabled child in the classroom for all twelve years of school, plus four years of college.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Claiming Disability Knowledge and Identity</i> Simi Linton comments on some of the challenges raised by the current model of inclusive education. She argues that it:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“places the mainstreamed children in the awkward position of having to look and act as nondisabled as possible to maintain their position in general education and, as a result, it marginalizes even more the disabled children who can never play those parts. Further, and rarely discussed, mainstreamed children lose the opportunity to be with other disabled children.” </span></i></div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: right; text-indent: 0in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 8pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Linton, Simi (1998-01-01). Claiming Disability (Cultural Front) (Kindle Locations 1017-1019). NYU Press reference. Kindle Edition.”</span></span></i></div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: right; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It’s the second part of this quotation that I wish to focus on, the idea that mainstreaming children keeps them from being able to spend time with their disabled peers. I think this rings true for society in general, not just school. As a kid, I was lucky. My mother worked with other parents of children with disabilities, and we formed a posse of sorts. A group outside of our mainstreamed-school lives, where no one else quite <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">got</i> what it meant to live with a disability. They were the people to whom I could say “Do you ever….?” and the answer would almost always be “yes.” But in school, no one quite got the reason behind my continued absences, the trouble I had keeping up on field trips or the disability terminology I threw around like a second language. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Now that I’m out of the public education system and in the “real world” I find it’s become harder to seek out people with disabilities to relate to. Partially, I think this is a side-effect of the issue Linton raises. Some people with disabilities in the mainstream are encouraged to perform as “nondisabled” and don’t acknowledge that there are aspects of their lives more easily understood by people who have disability in their lives. Disability organizations and support systems I have encountered seem to be populated by those who were not mainstreamed, and were thus allowed to identify as disabled. Yet some of us lead double lives, joking with friends who will pour the soda into the cup for you, but might not quite get how annoying it is to have such crappy fine motor skills. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I don’t think this is the ideal situation. I often look back with longing at the late-eighties when people with disabilities were banding together to fight the civil rights movement. As a nineties-child, one of the ADA generation, I benefited greatly from their struggle, but I also envy their camaraderie. I’m by no means arguing against mainstream education. I’m a product of it. But I shouldn’t have been the only disabled kid on the block. I think it’s important for people with disabilities to support each other, to acknowledge that we can be part of the disability community and successful in a world that isn’t quite as inclusive as it would like to think. <span style="font-size: 8pt;"></span></span></div><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span>Chelseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08279604060499054571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3749924305871160951.post-81308652962040445052012-02-16T10:28:00.000-08:002012-02-16T10:28:47.989-08:00Why Can’t I Just Be NORMAL?<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">I often talk about being proud to be different. I say that my difference is the very thing that makes me unique and the person who I am, and how important it is for all of us to celebrate our differences, even when those differences are disabilities. I write blog articles about it. I present workshops to teens about it. I even just finished writing a book about it, which is pending publishing. It’s my personal philosophy, and it’s what’s helped me make it so far and accomplish so much.</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">But I’ll be honest. Sometimes, I wish I could just be normal. I wish I didn’t have to depend on medication just to make it through each day, and go through the hassle of having my doctor write a prescription every month and have it filled at the pharmacy. I wish that I could focus well enough to safely operate a motor vehicle without being distracted by everything else on the road, and that I didn’t have to rely on family, friends, or public transportation to get from one place to another. I wish that I could go to a party or a bar, socialize with my friends, and actually have a good time without becoming overwhelmed with all of the sensory overload that everyone else somehow manages to filter out. I wish I could even order a drink or two without worrying about the effect it might have on my medication. </span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">I look at the pile of dirty dishes in the sink, the laundry hamper overflowing with dirty clothes, the constant disarray of my desk and kitchen table covered with “To Do” lists, and feel so overwhelmed with all the little things I haven’t done yet, and that I could easily get done if I could just manage to stop wasting time for just a few minutes. I look at the chaotic mess of my house, which is a perfect metaphor for my chaotic life, throw my hands up in the air, and wonder, “<b>Why can’t I just be NORMAL?</b>“</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">Oh, I know. I should be strong and practice what I preach to others about being proud of my differences and celebrating myself. I need to remember the pep talks that others gave to me when I was younger about how my difference can be a gift; about how the very thing that makes me disorganized, inattentive, and messy also makes me creative, intuitive, clever, and how it enables me to make connections that other people miss; and how I should use my situation as an opportunity to educate others and that I have something special to share with the world. However, being labeled “special” and “different” isn’t always a good thing, and at times I find it to be stigmatizing. </span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">There’s nothing I can do about it. I’ll always be the way I am, and my disability will never go away. So, I figure, I have one of two choices. On one hand, I can lock myself up in my room and lament my lot in life while listening to depressing music, and go around every day with a frown on my face, leading to premature wrinkles that will make me look ugly and old in about five or ten years; ultimately dragging everyone around me down to the depths of misery as well.</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Or, I can choose to accept my difference as a normal and natural part of life, and know that while I may struggle, I am more than just my disability and I refuse to let my disability define me. I can remind myself that while I’m not “normal” in the traditional sense, who I am is what is <b>normal for me; </b>a philosophy shared by the creators of “</span></span><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">I am norm</span></span><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">.” Their website, </span></span><a href="http://www.iamnorm.org/"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">www.iamnorm.org</span></span></a><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">, is a resource created by and for young people with disabilities, and spreads the message that everyone is normal. I have only one life, and I can choose to make the most of it using what I have and all the things I <i>can</i> do, rather than lamenting about the things I can’t. I can use my many gifts to be an inspiration to other people, and hope and pray that my words and my life can make a positive change to other people who are different or who struggle with obstacles.</span></span></span></div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">- Authored by Becky Rizoli</span>Federation for Children with Special Needshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11416793662730926724noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3749924305871160951.post-60682406848324571302012-01-25T09:51:00.000-08:002012-01-25T09:51:27.962-08:00Disclosing<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">The first semester of college or university is a huge transition for everyone, but for a student with disabilities, it can be especially challenging. When I think back on the fall of my freshman year, I realize that the semester could have been far less stressful if only I had done one simple thing differently.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wish that I had been open from the beginning about my diagnosis of Attention Deficit Disorder (ADD).</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">Although I had been diagnosed with ADD in second grade, up until this point I never really had to disclose my diagnosis to anyone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The special education teachers in my school district advocated for my needs and accommodations.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They told all my teachers that I was on an Individualized Educational Program (IEP) and that under state and federal law, they were required to make accommodations for me in school. These accommodations included taking extended time on tests, taking my tests in a separate room so I wouldn’t be distracted by the other students, and the use of a computer for in-class essays.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">As I was getting ready to apply to colleges, I learned that I wouldn’t have an IEP in college, and that I would have to speak up for myself in order to get the accommodations I needed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had to know the name of my diagnosis and how it affected me; and I also learned how to ask for the accommodations I had the right to under the Americans with Disabilities Act. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This process is known as self-advocacy. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">I was quite anxious at the thought of disclosing my diagnosis to others. For one thing, I had never done anything like this before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Also,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>when I was first diagnosed with ADD, my parents told me that I was not supposed to tell anyone about the medication (Ritalin) that I was taking to help me pay attention.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The reason why they told me not to tell anyone was because they wanted my teachers to see how I did in school both on and off Ritalin. The doctor had told them that if my teachers didn’t know that I was on Ritalin, they would be able to give a more objective report of my behavior and progress.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At the time, however, I thought that my parents were telling me to keep my diagnosis a secret, and I came to believe that having ADD was something shameful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">I had no problem disclosing my diagnosis to my professors, but I didn’t reveal it to my peers or classmates or the other students who lived in my dorm. I was afraid that if they knew I had ADD, they would think less of me and harass me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had been bullied in middle school and shunned in high school for being in special education, and I believed that my college classmates would be just as intolerant if they knew of my difference.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">I also had heard several people make jokes and comical remarks about ADD, such as, “Oh, what’s wrong with me today? I keep spacing out, maybe I have ADD,” or “Wow, Susie’s got so much energy tonight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Looks like she forgot to take her ADD meds!” </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">Those jokes and comments led me to believe that the world generally viewed people with ADD and similar neurological disabilities to be inferior to others.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I believed that if I told my peers about my diagnosis, they would laugh at me and say things like, “You have <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">what?</i> Are you for real? You mean that you’re one of those crazy hyper freaks who need to take medication in order to function? Are you some kind of space shot, or what?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">For most of my first semester, I didn’t tell anyone (besides professors) that I had ADD and kept it hidden. I tried to pass off as a “normal” college student; somewhat unaware that there’s really no such thing as “normal.” Now, as I look back, I realize that by hiding my diagnosis, I was not doing myself any favors. Not only was I hiding a part of myself, but the students I lived with didn’t understand why I often didn’t pay attention to them when I was talking. They thought I was being rude and tuning them out on purpose, which made them not want to socialize with me or get to know me. This made my first semester in college very lonely. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">Eventually, I came to a point where I realized it was no longer wise to hide my diagnosis, and finally told my roommate that I had ADD.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was very supportive of me and encouraged me to tell others as well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I worked up the courage to tell my friends that I have ADD, I was met with a variety of responses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some of them didn’t really know a lot about ADD and wanted to learn more about it. I saw this as a great opportunity to educate them, while practicing my self-advocacy skills.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some people told me that they knew others with ADD, which made me realize that I wasn’t alone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">Not one person laughed at me, called me a freak, or thought less of me once I told them I had ADD. In fact, they were all very glad that I had told them, and they appreciated my honesty.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I realize that although people sometimes make jokes about conditions such as ADD, they really don’t mean anything malicious by it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They’re just trying to make people laugh, and fail to realize that their jokes or comments may also be hurtful to some.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All people often do foolish things without thinking about the consequences (I know I certainly have!), but this doesn’t mean that anyone hates people with ADD or any other medical condition, or views them as inferior. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you are a college or a high school student with a disability, I hope that you can learn from my story. Don’t be ashamed to disclose your diagnosis to your friends or roommates. There is no shame in having ADD or a learning disability, any more than having allergies or diabetes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are all simply medical conditions, and while they are a part of who you are; you are more than just your diagnosis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">My advice to you would be to say something like, “Oh, just so you know, I have ADD, so if you ever see me staring into space or I act like I’m not listening to you, it’s not that I’m tuning you out on purpose.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just speak up and let me know so I can pay attention to you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh, and I also get distracted by lots of noise when I’m trying to concentrate, so when I’m studying or writing a paper, try to keep it down, okay?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ll try to do my part by putting on headphones to drown out the noise, but I’m just asking you to do your part as well, okay?” </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">This is just an example, and of course, it should be altered for your specific needs and conditions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Substitute “ADD” with the name of your diagnosis, and your symptoms and modifications as needed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you are still in high school, perhaps you could sit down with your special education teacher and/or your parents and prepare something similar to say.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Go over it a few times if you want. Maybe write it down if you find it to be helpful.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ultimately, it is your decision who you choose to tell and who not to tell.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have discovered that the more open you are about your diagnosis, the more you will come to accept it as a totally natural part of yourself that in no way diminishes your worth as a person. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"> - Authored by Becky Rizoli</span></div>Federation for Children with Special Needshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11416793662730926724noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3749924305871160951.post-49772542506374312852012-01-23T08:47:00.000-08:002012-01-23T08:56:18.512-08:00A Short History of Nearly Everything FCSN<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Following the passage of Massachusetts’ landmark special education law, Chapter 766, in 1972, the group of parents who had helped advocate for the law’s passage formed the organization that became the Federation for Children with Special Needs, opening their doors in Boston in 1974. They sought to help parents get the most out of the new Massachusetts inclusive education laws. Through the years, with the advent of national laws, the ADA and more, the Federation has evolved to fit the changing needs of children with special needs throughout Massachusetts. They reached out to parents in other states with NECTAS, held national conferences and produced materials in other languages. Meanwhile, they adapted to the changing technologies, building interactive websites, social networking pages and professional videos to provide information for families all over the world.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">As FCSN evolves—grows up, in a way—so do the children it served. They become young adults with voices and opinions of their own. They learn what they need to be successful in spite of the challenges presented to them by the able-bodied world.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">I, and the others who will be contributing to this blog, are those children. We haven’t all been served directly by FCSN, but we’ve all encountered the world of disability in our own way. We’ve combated obstacles, faced setbacks, experienced joy. Often our views differ from our parents and the others around us, even though they helped shape our perspective, because we now have a solid grasp of what matters to us.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">We look forward to sharing all of that with you.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"> - Authored by Chelsey Blair Kendig</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>Federation for Children with Special Needshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11416793662730926724noreply@blogger.com0