Award Winning

I’ve been nominated for two Bloggers Choice Awards, for best health blog and for best parenting blog—–thanks to Hsien Hsien Lei of Eye on DNA for nominating me and for Taylor for enjoining me to tell you about it!

In truth, all awards go to one other person, a certain boy I know named Charlie Fisher. Charlie’s IEP meeting was today and this was the opening line I delivered:

“This has been Charlie’s best-ever year in school and we want to be sure to keep it that way.”

Back in April 2005 when a trusted friend and autism therapist told us “You’ve got to get him out of there” regarding one of Charlie’s former classrooms, and when a few days later the glass on the front door got broken with his forehead; back a year ago when, nervous and uncertain, I set up Charlie’s toys and made his bed in the study of my in-laws’ house, opposite my father-in-law’s Notre Dame diploma—–back then, if you had told us that Charlie would have that “best-ever year,” Jim and I would have half-smiled, shrugged, sighed yet again. Something better for us then meant no longer worrying that Charlie had hit his head.

Charlie, his teacher noted today, has only done anything like that a very few times this year. Charlie has been doing a lot else: Learning how to read, to play the piano, to ride a scooter, to follow an activity schedule on his own, to use the computer, to like using the computer, to go up to a teacher or adult and ask for help, to say /l/ rather than /w/ for the word “later.” To like school so much he starts to talk about it on Saturday night and a Monday off from school is an agonizing day for all of us.

This IEP meeting was simply a meeting about what Charlie has been learning and what he will be learning next year. The OT talked about shoe-tying, face-washing, typing, holding the fork. The speech therapist talked about longer sentences and articulation. The case manager took notes about our wondering if the schoolbus can only give Charlie a ride home this summer—because Jim would like to have Charlie ride his bike to school (with Jim, as ever, beside him). Charlie’s teacher went through her goals for him for the upcoming year, many the same and to be continued, some new things added—calculator, calendar, telling time (yes, with a digital clock), learning to cross the street, having a conversation. One aide from Charlie’s class was also present. Charlie’s home ABA consultant talked and his clinic supervisor talked about what their observations of him at school and at home, and how to keep things closely integrated. I talked about mainstreaming possibilities for Charlie in music and in sports, if he learns to play another instrument and if he might ever run with the track team when he is older.

It was a nine-person conversation about how best to educate one ten-year-old autistic boy. Charlie doesn’t have so much speech (the teachers and therapists have helped him to talk a lot, lot more this past year; the classroom program is very much language-based). He seems able to sit and focus at his schoolwork for short periods of time and then needs to be up and running. He needs Adapted Phys Ed every day (the current unit, I learned, is kickball). He takes the APA (Alternate Proficiency Assessment). He reads words on flashcards, not yet books. He aims to please. He is in the fifth grade.

Afterwards there was an end-of-the-year party in Charlie’s classroom. Charlie was seated between two teachers when I came in and was delighted to help himself to fried chicken (chomping at the bones, as he likes to) and then two cupcakes (”Cake, please!” he said looking right at his teacher). Earlier at the meeting, Jim and I had noted that, while Charlie is still more or less not eating wheat or dairy products at home, he has been eating these sorts of things when out with no notable effect one way or the other. Lunch over, Charlie dumped his plate and napkin in the garbage and said “backpack” to his teacher; we all explained that he still had a few hours to go and that I was just there for the party. Charlie got out his activity schedule and was working on a counting exercise when I said good-bye.

“Bye mom,” said Charlie.

Three cheers for the biggest winner, in my book and on my blog.