Wednesday – The Three Fates
Nov. 24th, 2010 09:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ninanevermore.
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My husband showed up at 8:35 for our 8:40 interview with the school psychologist, the occupational therapist, and the educational diagnostician. We could have waited to show up until after 9 since that’s when the three of them were ready to see us, but that would have made us look like we weren’t very concerned about why we were there. Sitting in the front office, I looked at the framed photos on the front desk of the principal, the vice principal, and the school counselor, each with a stack of their respective business cards in front of it.
“Look,” I pointed out to Jeff, “Three pictures of people who have been hit, bitten and kicked by our son.” It was like a photo lineup of his frequent victims.
Jeff made a kind of pained groaning sound. I get a kick out of it when I hear one of those women tell me they love having my son in their school. I wish they could look me in the eye when they say that, but I think it’s sweet that they say it at all. They are trying their best, and God love them for that.
Finally, the psychologist, who I’ll call Ms. Psych, came around the corner and called us back. She led us down the hall to a little room with several tables pushed together in a square (schools are good for having that smaller tables that fit together into larger tables when needed). She introduced us to the occupational therapist, a.k.a. Ms. Ot, and the Educational Diagnostician, who I will dub Ms. Ed. Everyone there had worked with and observed my son, and they had read our answers on the multitude of forms they had sent home. We started off talking about my pregnancy and our experiences with Sweet Pea as a baby (when he seemed pretty normal and even exceptionally sweet). He was opinionated about certain things from an early age – food, shoes, and music, to name a few. I mentioned his early opinions on music that I noticed at the coffee house I frequented on open mic night back when I read poetry at them.
“Really? Where was this?” Ms. Ot asked.
I told her about Zebo’s, which closed a few years ago.
“I thought you looked familiar!” she exclaimed. She is good friends with the lady who used to own Zebo’s, and also with one of the couples who used to host the open mic. She also remembered Sweet Pea, and said she had held him a few times. This was long before his anxiety about strangers kicked in, so he didn’t mind different people cuddling him. Lots of people played with him at that open mic; he was fixture there and he was known as an easy-going, low-key baby who didn’t interrupt the show by being fussy. Unless, I pointed out, he didn’t like the performance on the stage.
"If the performer couldn’t play their instruments very well, he would start to fuss and I had to take him outside until they were done. And he didn’t like certain genres of music, either, no matter how well they were played." I told them about the lady who played New Age style music on her electric keyboard. Sweet Pea would have none of what she had to offer. She played and sang well enough, but from the first note he would start to fidget and make a face that let me know he was gearing up to cry. I would take him outside, and he would calm immediately as soon as he couldn’t hear her anymore. If the next act was the blues, he was happy to come back inside. He loved the blues as a baby.
“New Age music also doesn’t have as much rhythm and is more irregular than other kinds of music,” Ms. Ed said. I wasn’t sure exactly what he didn’t like about it, since he was an infant and was not speaking yet. I only know he hated it.
We discussed how normal he seems to be when you are dealing with him one-on-one, and how that can change like the flip of a switch when he is in an environment with a lot of other children. Ms. Psych told us how well he would do during her sessions with him when she is teaching him social lesson, and how loving he can be. In fact, he hugs her and tells her he loves her these sessions (it seems he has noticed that women melt over this sort of thing; in another 10 years, this might present a whole different kind of problem for us to deal with). Then, upon walking out into a hallway crowded with other children, he hit and kicked her without warning.
Then there are the children in the classroom that he targets; the children that Ms. Psych says he had bitten.
“Jack and Christian,” I said. I shared my suspicions about why he focuses on them; they are the other two Special Education children in the class. I told them about the targeting behavior and how I had observed in play areas when there was a toddler around. He would stare at the toddler intensely, and if he had a toy he would hold it up above his head so the toddler could see it. The toddler would inevitably reach for it, which causes Sweet Pea to scream. The last time we were at a play area and I saw there was an 18-month-old girl there, I told him to stay away from her. This made him focus on her, and then run away when she came toward him (because he was staring at her). She took his attention as an invitation to play. He took her reciprocal attention as an invasion of his personal space. I pulled him aside and asked why babies bother him so much.
Because, he said, his voice high pitched with anxiety, they chase me around and they take my toys and they just freak me out!
"They’re unpredictable, and they don’t follow the rules that the older children follow. I think he feels the same way about Jack and Christian. He says Jack makes weird noises and does things he shouldn’t do. He says Christian talks and talks and talks. He doesn't see that he does some of these things, too, and that he doesn't always follow the rules. He's just keen on the fact that these two boys don't, and he feels like he needs to keep an eye on them because of this."
“In fact, when I pointed that out to him, he got real quiet,” Jeff said. “I told him Jack can’t help what he does, because he has some problems. Kind of like [Sweet Pea] has some problems doing what he's supposed to do in class sometimes.” Jack has been diagnosed with Asperger’s Syndrome, a high-functioning form of autism. I’m not sure what’s up with little Christian, but he sounds like he’s ADHD from Sweet Pea’s descriptions of him.
I swear I saw light bulbs blink on over the heads of all three of the other women in the room. Sweet Pea has a very rigid set of guidelines that he uses to organize the world around him. Other children (besides himself) who don’t follow them cause him great anxiety.
“They’re unpredictable,” Ms. Psych said, “That makes sense.” Ms. Ot and Ms. Ed nodded their heads.
Ms. Ed and Ms. Ot had to leave after an hour, since they had another meeting at another campus to attend. Ms. Psyche sat with us awhile longer and discussed some of her other observations. She gave us yet another set of forms for us each to fill out.
“We’re still trying to determine whether we want to lean toward autism or an emotional disturbance,” Ms. Psych said, “Because he still shows signs of both. One on one, he doesn’t really fit the description of Asperger’s, so I think we’re leaning toward an emotional disturbance. I know that term sounds kind of harsh. I wish they had something better for me to use.”
“What about Non Verbal Learning Disorder?” I asked, “It’s like Asperger’s Light.” The name Non Verbal Learning Disorder is misleading; children with NVLD are very, very verbal. It’s their social skills and interactions that are out of whack. I’ve been doing research on my own, as well. I agree that he doesn’t fit the description of Asperger’s; he’s too normal when he’s not over stimulated. But autism is a whole spectrum of disorders, some milder than others. My son’s behaviors and characteristics fit nicely into what I’ve read about NVLD.
Ms. Psych frowned. “I don’t think Texas accepts Non Verbal Learning Disorder as a diagnosis.”
Well in that case it must not be real, I thought. We would have to move to a different state in order for NVLD to be the problem, but our family and our mortgage is here. I asked if it had to be either/or; could it be a combination of mild autism and an emotional disturbance. Ms. Psych shook her head.
“The state won’t accept that, either. It has to be one or the other.” If the state of Texas doesn’t accept that comorbidity is possible, who am I to suggest it is? I imagined a doctor telling a patient, There is no way you could be having a heart attack, because we’ve already diagnosed you with asthma! You can’t have more than one thing wrong with you – the state of Texas says so! I’m sure this only applies to the education system and not the medical system. I hope so, at least, for the sake of any asthmatics who may also have bad hearts.
It doesn’t matter what the three experts decide, so long as the IEP they come up with gets my son the help he needs. The Meyer Center at Texas Children’s Hospital may come up with a completely different diagnosis when they see him in March, and I can take that information to his IEP meeting next year. My gut instinct is that he definitely has sensory integration problems (the occupational therapist said she was confident of this), which is a developmental problem, not an emotional one. I also think he may have anxiety issues that are manifesting as anger (anger and fear looking very much alike in certain males).
Still, all in all, the meeting went well. The IEP meeting is in two more weeks. It will be interesting to hear what they have to say in their report. Until then, I’ll give thanks for the days where he brings home more smiley faces than sad ones on his conduct reports.
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * # * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
.
.
My husband showed up at 8:35 for our 8:40 interview with the school psychologist, the occupational therapist, and the educational diagnostician. We could have waited to show up until after 9 since that’s when the three of them were ready to see us, but that would have made us look like we weren’t very concerned about why we were there. Sitting in the front office, I looked at the framed photos on the front desk of the principal, the vice principal, and the school counselor, each with a stack of their respective business cards in front of it.
“Look,” I pointed out to Jeff, “Three pictures of people who have been hit, bitten and kicked by our son.” It was like a photo lineup of his frequent victims.
Jeff made a kind of pained groaning sound. I get a kick out of it when I hear one of those women tell me they love having my son in their school. I wish they could look me in the eye when they say that, but I think it’s sweet that they say it at all. They are trying their best, and God love them for that.
Finally, the psychologist, who I’ll call Ms. Psych, came around the corner and called us back. She led us down the hall to a little room with several tables pushed together in a square (schools are good for having that smaller tables that fit together into larger tables when needed). She introduced us to the occupational therapist, a.k.a. Ms. Ot, and the Educational Diagnostician, who I will dub Ms. Ed. Everyone there had worked with and observed my son, and they had read our answers on the multitude of forms they had sent home. We started off talking about my pregnancy and our experiences with Sweet Pea as a baby (when he seemed pretty normal and even exceptionally sweet). He was opinionated about certain things from an early age – food, shoes, and music, to name a few. I mentioned his early opinions on music that I noticed at the coffee house I frequented on open mic night back when I read poetry at them.
“Really? Where was this?” Ms. Ot asked.
I told her about Zebo’s, which closed a few years ago.
“I thought you looked familiar!” she exclaimed. She is good friends with the lady who used to own Zebo’s, and also with one of the couples who used to host the open mic. She also remembered Sweet Pea, and said she had held him a few times. This was long before his anxiety about strangers kicked in, so he didn’t mind different people cuddling him. Lots of people played with him at that open mic; he was fixture there and he was known as an easy-going, low-key baby who didn’t interrupt the show by being fussy. Unless, I pointed out, he didn’t like the performance on the stage.
"If the performer couldn’t play their instruments very well, he would start to fuss and I had to take him outside until they were done. And he didn’t like certain genres of music, either, no matter how well they were played." I told them about the lady who played New Age style music on her electric keyboard. Sweet Pea would have none of what she had to offer. She played and sang well enough, but from the first note he would start to fidget and make a face that let me know he was gearing up to cry. I would take him outside, and he would calm immediately as soon as he couldn’t hear her anymore. If the next act was the blues, he was happy to come back inside. He loved the blues as a baby.
“New Age music also doesn’t have as much rhythm and is more irregular than other kinds of music,” Ms. Ed said. I wasn’t sure exactly what he didn’t like about it, since he was an infant and was not speaking yet. I only know he hated it.
We discussed how normal he seems to be when you are dealing with him one-on-one, and how that can change like the flip of a switch when he is in an environment with a lot of other children. Ms. Psych told us how well he would do during her sessions with him when she is teaching him social lesson, and how loving he can be. In fact, he hugs her and tells her he loves her these sessions (it seems he has noticed that women melt over this sort of thing; in another 10 years, this might present a whole different kind of problem for us to deal with). Then, upon walking out into a hallway crowded with other children, he hit and kicked her without warning.
Then there are the children in the classroom that he targets; the children that Ms. Psych says he had bitten.
“Jack and Christian,” I said. I shared my suspicions about why he focuses on them; they are the other two Special Education children in the class. I told them about the targeting behavior and how I had observed in play areas when there was a toddler around. He would stare at the toddler intensely, and if he had a toy he would hold it up above his head so the toddler could see it. The toddler would inevitably reach for it, which causes Sweet Pea to scream. The last time we were at a play area and I saw there was an 18-month-old girl there, I told him to stay away from her. This made him focus on her, and then run away when she came toward him (because he was staring at her). She took his attention as an invitation to play. He took her reciprocal attention as an invasion of his personal space. I pulled him aside and asked why babies bother him so much.
Because, he said, his voice high pitched with anxiety, they chase me around and they take my toys and they just freak me out!
"They’re unpredictable, and they don’t follow the rules that the older children follow. I think he feels the same way about Jack and Christian. He says Jack makes weird noises and does things he shouldn’t do. He says Christian talks and talks and talks. He doesn't see that he does some of these things, too, and that he doesn't always follow the rules. He's just keen on the fact that these two boys don't, and he feels like he needs to keep an eye on them because of this."
“In fact, when I pointed that out to him, he got real quiet,” Jeff said. “I told him Jack can’t help what he does, because he has some problems. Kind of like [Sweet Pea] has some problems doing what he's supposed to do in class sometimes.” Jack has been diagnosed with Asperger’s Syndrome, a high-functioning form of autism. I’m not sure what’s up with little Christian, but he sounds like he’s ADHD from Sweet Pea’s descriptions of him.
I swear I saw light bulbs blink on over the heads of all three of the other women in the room. Sweet Pea has a very rigid set of guidelines that he uses to organize the world around him. Other children (besides himself) who don’t follow them cause him great anxiety.
“They’re unpredictable,” Ms. Psych said, “That makes sense.” Ms. Ot and Ms. Ed nodded their heads.
Ms. Ed and Ms. Ot had to leave after an hour, since they had another meeting at another campus to attend. Ms. Psyche sat with us awhile longer and discussed some of her other observations. She gave us yet another set of forms for us each to fill out.
“We’re still trying to determine whether we want to lean toward autism or an emotional disturbance,” Ms. Psych said, “Because he still shows signs of both. One on one, he doesn’t really fit the description of Asperger’s, so I think we’re leaning toward an emotional disturbance. I know that term sounds kind of harsh. I wish they had something better for me to use.”
“What about Non Verbal Learning Disorder?” I asked, “It’s like Asperger’s Light.” The name Non Verbal Learning Disorder is misleading; children with NVLD are very, very verbal. It’s their social skills and interactions that are out of whack. I’ve been doing research on my own, as well. I agree that he doesn’t fit the description of Asperger’s; he’s too normal when he’s not over stimulated. But autism is a whole spectrum of disorders, some milder than others. My son’s behaviors and characteristics fit nicely into what I’ve read about NVLD.
Ms. Psych frowned. “I don’t think Texas accepts Non Verbal Learning Disorder as a diagnosis.”
Well in that case it must not be real, I thought. We would have to move to a different state in order for NVLD to be the problem, but our family and our mortgage is here. I asked if it had to be either/or; could it be a combination of mild autism and an emotional disturbance. Ms. Psych shook her head.
“The state won’t accept that, either. It has to be one or the other.” If the state of Texas doesn’t accept that comorbidity is possible, who am I to suggest it is? I imagined a doctor telling a patient, There is no way you could be having a heart attack, because we’ve already diagnosed you with asthma! You can’t have more than one thing wrong with you – the state of Texas says so! I’m sure this only applies to the education system and not the medical system. I hope so, at least, for the sake of any asthmatics who may also have bad hearts.
It doesn’t matter what the three experts decide, so long as the IEP they come up with gets my son the help he needs. The Meyer Center at Texas Children’s Hospital may come up with a completely different diagnosis when they see him in March, and I can take that information to his IEP meeting next year. My gut instinct is that he definitely has sensory integration problems (the occupational therapist said she was confident of this), which is a developmental problem, not an emotional one. I also think he may have anxiety issues that are manifesting as anger (anger and fear looking very much alike in certain males).
Still, all in all, the meeting went well. The IEP meeting is in two more weeks. It will be interesting to hear what they have to say in their report. Until then, I’ll give thanks for the days where he brings home more smiley faces than sad ones on his conduct reports.
