Archive for the Parenting Category
Written on February 16, 2012 by Stuart Duncan 
Filed Under: Autism, Parenting
I often hear horror stories in the news, from other teachers and all over the internet about parents being in some epic battle with their child’s school or day care because their child had to be restrained, separated from others or other cases like that.
Most of the time, everyone sides with the parent in a unanimous cry of outrage in the complete and total mistreatment of their child. Most of the time, that comes with very little information as the schools are often unable to comment on the situation, same with any enforcement personnel. This means that we only have the parent’s information to go on.
I won’t argue however that most of the time, that’s all we really need. What’s wrong is wrong.
Still though, this creates a situation in society that basically ties the hands of those teachers and care givers should they truly have the right or need to handle a situation where those circumstances arise.
Dear care givers
What I’m trying to say is, if you care for my child and he is in danger of hurting himself or someone else, please do restrain him. Please do send him for a time out, even to some other room if need be.
I won’t sue. I won’t call the media.
If my son hurts himself… in a private area… please do check it out. He’s hurt, he needs attention, give it to him. I understand that it’s not sexual, I understand that you have his and my best interests at heart.
I won’t sue. I won’t call the media.
But be warned
If my trust is abused or my understanding is taken advantage of, I will hunt down the person and make sure that no one finds them until skyscrapers start going up in remote parts of northern Canada.
My children are that important to me… but they’re also that important to me that I don’t want to see his care givers afraid to touch them for fear of me being the type of parent to make it a national news story.
The reality
The reality is that when my son completely loses it and hurts himself or his little brother, or is breaking things, or is just generally out of control… I will put him in his room. I will drag him there if I have to.
And I fully understand… no, I expect… that anyone else that I have entrusted with the responsibility of watching him would do the same.
I won’t call it barbarism when someone does the exact same thing that I would have done in the same situation. I won’t give my story to the first reporter that will listen to me.
The reality is that I understand how it’s come to this but I also feel disappointed that it has.
Somewhere, lines have blurred… and it’s often due to those who take advantage of the situation or react too harshly to the situation. Those care givers who go overboard and actually hit a child, or do something else that is completely inappropriate.
There’s also the “not knowing” that we must face… since our children aren’t great at relaying the details, we have to just hope that the teacher’s telling the truth. And if they did do something wrong, what would be the likelihood of that?
In a perfect society, every person that comes into contact with a child would be certified do-gooders with halos and wings that could never do any harm… but there is no perfect society and that leaves us skeptical and scared.
But I refuse to hand cuff those who care for my children by never letting them do what I would do myself to ensure their safety.
If I wouldn’t do it, damn straight I won’t let them do it. But if I would take an action, such as dragging my kid, kicking and screaming to a time out… then I fully support his teachers/care givers doing the same.
I know a lot of parents won’t agree with me, or simply aren’t willing to let “strangers” do those sorts of things… I can understand that. But it is how I am and how I feel about it. If I don’t trust the person that my son is with, he won’t be with that person. It’s that simple.
Written on February 15, 2012 by Stuart Duncan
Filed Under: Autism, Parenting
In 2007, a wonderfully fun little movie called Mr. Magorium’s Wonder Emporium came out featuring Dustin Hoffman, Natalie Portman and Justin Bateman. While this movie will never hold a candle to films such as the Wizard of Oz or Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, it does shine in it’s own special way.
Just Believe
The Premise
Dustin Hoffman plays the magical being, Mr. Magorium… and by magical, I mean that he’s 243 years old and brings toys to life. His assistant is played by Natalie Portman who is struggling to find herself. She tells Mr. Magorium that she “feels stuck” and he responds by giving her the Congreve Cube… uh… a block of wood.
As you get accustomed to the magical world within the store, Mr. Magorium throws in a shocker in announcing that he has to leave… effectively, he’s going to die tomorrow.
This leaves her with a store that she’s not sure she wants, an accountant that hasn’t even seen a toy in years and a fun little boy sidekick type that is in the peak of his magic believing life.
The Magic
It’s a wonderfully fun movie for the kids… Cameron was mesmerized through most of it but did get bored a few times as the discussions about life would take away from the store and the magic.
But that was the thing, I think, in that this movie held so much more magic for the parents than it did for the children. I think that is what holds it back from being a classic like Oz or Willy Wonka but it’s also what makes it so important for parents to watch.
You see, as Mr. Magorium “leaves” and his assistant has to figure out her life, the store begins to lose it’s colour, the toys stop coming to life… essentially, it dies. It becomes a dark, dreary place that no one wants to step foot into.
It’s not until Molly (Natalie Portman’s character) realizes what it is that she has to do that everything comes back to life. She believes in the magic, she believes in the toys, she believes in the store and most of all, she believes in herself again… and the Congreve Cube begins to move.
It’s her belief that causes the cube to move, it’s her belief that brings back the colour and it’s her belief that leads the viewer to believe that, providing she always does believe, she too will live to be over 240 years old.
The Lesson
As Molly dances around the store and the toys begin to move, dance and fly, the colours come back, the music builds and builds and the children come running in the front door to see all of the magic, my son sat on the couch, hugging the couch cushion with a huge smile on his face.
I love to see him being so happy that he can hardly contain it. It’s a rarity.
So I decided to see if Cameron got it:
Me: So what did she have to do to make the magic come back?
Cameron: … believe?
Me: Right! … And what did she have to believe in?
Cameron: … magic?
Me: Nope… herself! She had to believe in herself!
Cameron: believe in herself?
Me: Yes, that means that she had to be happy being her. She had to know that she was smart and a good person. She had to know how awesome she is!
Cameron: and that makes the magic?
Me: Exactly. If you believe in yourself, the magic will happen.
While I don’t know just how much of that will stay with him, I know that it will stay with me. And I hope it stays with every parent that watches the movie.
Never stop believing in make believe. Never stop believing in silly, childish, wild and wacky fun. Never stop believing in magic. And most importantly, never stop believing in yourself.
It’s this that I will always remind my boys and will always do my utmost best to remind myself.
Autism or not, if you believe in yourself, the magic will happen.
Written on January 26, 2012 by Stuart Duncan
Filed Under: Autism, Parenting
Independence, that place where you can have chocolate for breakfast every single day if you want… but that you know you shouldn’t. It sounds simple enough for those of us who just do it but having a child really has a way of putting it all into perspective.
This month, we’re taking the first steps, which seem so very trivial and yet, so huge.
First of all, we’re encouraging them to do some things on their own.. they can both get dressed on their own now, which is a great first step. Now we’re pushing forward with having them brush their own teeth, dry themselves after a bath and little things like that.
But now, the big one… getting their own juice!
This is a very scary one for one simple reason… one wrong step and it’s sticky, juicy, splash city all over the kitchen!
So what we did was visit the local dollar store and pick up a smaller jug. It has a smaller handle and is smaller over all.
This makes it a lot less heavy and much easier to get their little hands around.
Also, we moved their cups from being up in the cup/glass cupboard to down into the gluten free food cupboard under the counter. This way, they can go and get themselves their little plastic cups any time they want.
The pouring is still a pretty scary task but it is now so much more manageable for them and they feel so proud each time. Often, when they ask for juice and I give them the go ahead, one of them will rush off to pour glasses of juice for both of them because they’re so eager to be such big boys.
This is one little step closer to me no longer being a servant and one huge step closer to them being able to do things for themselves.
It’s also worth noting that Cameron is 6.5 years old while Tyler just turned 4…. and while Cameron is doing grade 2 school work while he’s only in grade 1… when it comes to the motor skills required to pour juice, because of how autism affects him, they’re actually pretty even skilled.
In a way, I kind of feel bad that he’s learning the things his little brother learns at the same time, when it comes to tasks such as this but at the same time, I do like that they get to learn them together and gain an even closer bond that comes with the success of independence.
Written on December 20, 2011 by JeffsLife
Filed Under: Autism, Autism Awareness, Parenting, Special Needs
(This piece appears in the recently published Anthology of Disability Literature)
Recently, my 12-year-old Alex kept trying to scoot through an open door in the basement of our neighborhood supermarket. The store wasn’t crowded and hardly anyone noticed me hauling him back to the checkout line except a young lady working the register. I saw her looking at Alex with the small smile and direct eyes that I’ve learned mean: She knows someone with autism. She stroked his head once.
The cashier might have stroked Alex’s head out of understanding the kind of life Alex is likely to have. Of course I wish she’d felt comfortable yelling at him, comfortable because he was normal and he shouldn’t be trying to run in the basement of a grocery store, comfortable in the way somebody might be yelling at Alex’s typically developing 9-year-old brother Ned.
They don’t yell at Alex in the pizza place, either. I take him there in the fragile hope that he’ll eat the cheese off a slice or two while he’s out of the house so Ned can get his English tutoring. Alex and I often take the table way in the back, and the first few times I did this I was scared he would bolt while I got the pizza. “We’ll keep an eye on him, buddy,” the guy behind the counter said.
Alex has received his share of looks – more outside of New York City (they positively stared in the Massachusetts malls), perhaps because people are used to seeing just about anything in New York and passing by without what appears to be an obvious thought. When Alex was still a baby on oxygen, some kids on a Queens sidewalk did ask, “What happened to that guy!?” That was nice; Alex was emerging from a year in the hospital, and it was good to think he’d ceased to be patient and had finally become some “guy” on a sidewalk.
People – at least the people I’d like to have around Alex – seem to need to think there’s something beyond vulnerability to those with autism. Something special or beneficial to society, or at least likable and warm, like the message of movies like Rain Man, lessons tied up in what Richard Yates disdainfully called “a neat little dramatic package.” Yeah, there’s autism. But they can count cards, too! Some of them can count cards. Some can paint. Some with autism can do all sorts of things, just like some of all of us can, and of course the verdict is still a long way off when it comes to Alex’s real abilities. I want people to stroke his head someday because he helped them, because he contributed in a way that brought him fulfillment at the end of his working day. And I want to live to see him get that. I call that my Hopeful Outlook.
–Jeff Stimpson
Alex: The Fathering of a Preemie and Alex the Boy: Episodes From a Family’s Life With Autism
Written on October 23, 2011 by Stuart Duncan
Filed Under: Parenting
A short thought today
While I was doing dishes and my wife was at work, my two boys were in the living room, playing a video game and discussing how much they wished that they were grown ups so that they could do anything they want.
Even though I couldn’t help chuckling to myself, thinking they didn’t really think this through very well… I remember quite clearly wishing for the same thing at their age.
And now, while doing dishes, listening to them play video games, I’d love to just be their age again.
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