All The Time In The World

Image by JasonTromm via Flickr

Summer should be a fun break for everyone, right? Here it is nearly June. The kids are home, and I'm already tired. After three days of end-of-school meltdowns, I'm pooped emotionally.

The park was fun for the fifteen minutes we were there. The house looks more like a hurricane blew through than before. Hurricane Darrel is destructive. At least, a 4. The worst part is that I know he's losing time. I'm no professional. I mimic the professionals as much as I can, but I know the expertise I need is not at my fingertips. For three months, we're on our own.


Speech therapy is easy, at least I think it is. It's all the rest; challenging behaviors, sensory issues, and loss of all that precious knowledge we put in his head all year. That is the frustration I have as a parent when lawmakers and schools in one breath push professional intervention, and express in the next that the family has undefined and undetermined responsibilities to fix their kids. My favorite is the phrase used so often that "school isn't a cure".

Newsflash. For most of us, there is no improvement bordering on "cure". Nobody gets a cure with autism. Education is, however, the only viable treatment for autism we have which is available for most regardless of cost. It is our best bet for reducing the cost effect of so many disabled entering society at one time. It's the difference between a child completely dependent on one-on-one aids for personal care into adulthood and a child only partially dependent and able to perform basic self-care. School may not be a cure, but, when you have a child with autism, you sure miss it when it's gone.

Rubber, meet the Road. Road, . . .

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Brick Buddies is over for the year. It was a long haul getting from here to there. There is still a ways to go. Brick Buddies is our RISE Learning Center LEGO club, and it has students on both ends of the spectrum included. We weren't able to have peers without disabilities, but how awesome would that be, huh?

Extra-curricular events, clubs and teams are rare for children with disabilities. At least, they are here in Indianapolis. So when a friend came to me with a study about LEGO and its benefits to children on the spectrum, it seemed a good fit. The problems soon became apparent.

Problem One: You need Legos. Lots of them. My first source was Wal-mart. Go to your local store and fill out a simple form telling them what you're needing and why. They've funded us two years running. This year we also obtained some stimulus of our own for the club. That will keep us going for a while.


Problem Two: This one you will not believe, but staff were semi-resistant to the club. I'm speculating as to the cause, but I think it may be related to our habit of lowering our expectations for "those"kids. Lower goals not expectations. The fact is that autistic kids have an affinity for systems. Lego is a building system. It's the same reason so many like math.

Problem Three: RLC is a facility with students from both ends of the spectrum, and every disorder under the sun seems to occupy its halls. That makes for a problem I still haven't fully solved. High and low functioning students at the same event. One thing I've learned is that the kids can and will let you know where their talents lie. I can say with certainty that social skills training was accomplished.

To parents, I say: If you have time and ability to share, starting recreational groups for children with disabilities is the best way to go. Kids need these kinds of experiences. They need the opportunity for play, for conflict, for self-regulation. We all learn these things the same way, experience. The learning and mentally disabled need more experiences than the rest of us, not less. Whatever you do, keep your child in the game. Don't let them retreat from the world.

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