Late Bloomers

Time

2012-01-27T23:50:00.000-08:00

The relevance of time is specific to the moment. There are all sorts of inspirational quotes depicting scenarios of its importance, and insignificance. Four years seemed a relatively lengthy segment of time when I was contemplating my return to school and yet what took place in those four years flashed by in an instant.

We grew…

September 2006

2012-01-27T23:44:00.000-08:00

September 2006 - the fall before I returned to school.

You Are The Best Thing

2010-12-11T14:17:00.000-08:00

Great Spirits

2010-12-05T17:20:00.000-08:00

On occasion there is need to classify individuals according to their level of learning. One would not place a seven-year-old in a college calculus class (or me for that matter) nor would they slot an adult who has not yet learned to read in a class of first graders. Logic tells us a child would not flourish in a class where he has not yet mastered the basics and an adult would feel isolated and perhaps even demeaned if placed in a classroom of children.

If we consider individuals with physical and intellectual challenges the law states they should be included in every aspect of life. We make our public spaces accessible for those who physically would not be able to enter if there were not alterations to building structures, children are required to be educated in the least restrictive environment with their same age peers, and individuals of every cultural, socioeconomic, and sexual orientation are to be treated with respect and given equal opportunity in both work and social settings. Professional, educational, and community inclusion is not merely a privilege for a select few, but also hinges on laws which have been in place for over two decades.

In my world… a world where my eldest son’s unending questions of “What’s next Mom?” are a part of my daily routine, inclusion is priority. His questions in part are born of his need for answers but of equal importance to help him transition. I have spent the majority of his twenty-one years advocating his right to be a part of ‘our’ world and yet if I were to be completely honest, I have likewise redesigned and relegated myself to his.

If you explore the meaning of the word ‘relegate’ you will find three entries: 1. demote somebody or something 2. exile somebody, and 3. hand something on / or to pass something on to somebody for that person to deal with it or provide information about it.

I am here to provide information…

Acceptance and understanding are imperative on all levels for equality to flourish.

“…There’s no lesser than. There’s just different from. It isn't just great minds that matter. It’s great spirits too.”

Dr. Bruce Blumberg
As quoted by Ian Brown in “The Boy in the Moon”.

A Picture's Worth a Thousand Words

2009-09-21T08:50:00.001-07:00

Retarded?

2009-03-31T08:00:00.000-07:00

This picture is one of my favorites taken by a gifted photographer during Corey's senior year photo shoot. In an attempt to capture a more traditional shot he began teasing and made comment there was a "stud" in the room, then asking Corey if he knew who it might be. Corey's response was, "Who me?" The result was his capturing the very essence of my son.
You may be wondering where the title of this post is drawn from. Today many of us, who’s lives have been touched by a person with intellectual challenges, are taking a stand against the over and misuse of the word retarded. The clinical definition of the word has followed my child since birth. There is nothing humorous about it nor is it ugly. Many times over the past twenty years I have climbed up on my soap box after hearing someone callously use the term and many times I have turned away, weary from the battle. On this day, I will once again take a stand. At our house the “short bus” is what is referred to by my son as the “comfy bus”. It carries him and his wonderfully diverse friends to and from school. The “Special Olympics” is not a quip term to describe ones lack of ability in a particular sport, but a competition which is held with reverence and honor. And the word retarded? We have expanded and more creative vocabularies which do not have room for tired misused words of the like.
Think before you speak folks. Words sometimes hurt.

Organic?

2009-03-31T07:52:00.000-07:00

Is there really a benefit to eating organic food?

Visit Black Hawk Organics' blog and join the debate!

Dream Big

2009-03-29T08:16:00.000-07:00

Today's words are not my own and are the lyrics to "Dream Big" by Ryan Shupe and the Rubber Band. I spend a lot of time listening to music and books on tape on my trek to school so I'm sharing what has left a recent impression on me. If you haven't already, check out "Tuesdays with Morrie" by Mitch Albom". (My last weeks listening.) I can't even claim this weeks photograph, it was taken by my friend Bridgett Mork.

Dream Big
When you cry be sure to dry your eyes 'Cause better days are sure to come And when you smile be sure to smile wide Don't let them know that they have won And when you walk, walk with pride Don't show the hurt inside Because the pain will soon be gone
And when you dream, dream big As big as the ocean blue 'Cause when you dream it might come true When you dream, dream big
When you laugh be sure to laugh out loud 'Cause it will carry all your cares away And when you see, see the beauty all around and in yourself And it'll help you feel okay And when you pray, pray for strength To help you carry on When the troubles come your way
And when you dream, dream big As big as the ocean blue 'Cause when you dream it might come true When you dream, dream big
When you laugh be sure to laugh out loud 'Cause it will carry all your cares away And when you see, see the beauty all around and in yourself And it'll help you feel okay And when you pray, pray for strength To help you carry on When the troubles come your way
And when you dream, dream big As big as the ocean blue 'Cause when you dream it might come true When you dream, dream big

Patience

2009-03-23T07:32:00.001-07:00

Puppies are like young children, sometimes impatient with priorities in the moment and nothing long term of importance. This is how our Ozzy is, his world being about the here and now with no tolerance for waiting, it’s ALL about Ozzy. It occurred to me recently that Ozzy is teaching Corey (as well as the rest of us) about the attribute of patience. What he lacks out of inexperience we are learning to wait, ever so patiently, for. We are educating each other. Yesterday, while waiting for Ozzy and his ever so patient mentor, Molly, to finish their outdoor duties, Corey yelled out the window for them to hurry. His insistence causing me to suggest he be patient, which precipitated, what I consider, a rather profound conversation between my son and I. “Corey, you need to be patient.” and then rattling on as I sometimes do, not expecting a response, “Patience is a virtue.” What came next was a simple yet brilliant question that I did not anticipate, “What does that mean?” Seizing the opportunity I said, “Patience is good.” To which he replied, “Yes, patience is good, Mom.” This was a first for us, a question from my child, born of an abstract comment, in which I answered and he clearly understood. Yes, patience is a virtue…

Transition

2009-03-22T15:19:00.000-07:00

My son’s eighteenth, and final, IEP was Thursday. Not thinking beyond one year I went prepared to defend his right to arrive at school on time (his bus is chronically 20 – 40 minutes late), discuss educationally relevant skills to be worked on, and the importance of increasing his ability to express himself as he prepares to enter his adult life. Introductions were made and everyone was smiling as Corey’s sweet, young teacher, who we all adore, began with, “Do you plan to have Corey participate in the graduation ceremony next spring?” What? Graduation? Again? Next spring? When did this happen? How did this happen? I had been preparing for this moment for the past four years and the words still left me feeling like I’d been hit by a speeding car while crossing the street for a casual conversation with the neighbor.

In the past I have considered myself a person who embraced change and met obstacles with innovative fervor, but on this occasion as I began to fully comprehend the magnitude of the discussion, I am for a moment, left feeling inept and overwhelmed. Is the ground work we have laid enough for Corey? For us? The anxiety I have felt with each transition throughout his childhood comes creeping back and I find myself feeling foolish over the false sense of security I had been recently harboring.

I imagine most public schools are fairly comparable in their philosophies involving their special needs students, providing the minimum required and never exploring the possibility of there being choices beyond the typical. Corey’s school, his “Corey College”, consists of a self contained classroom with the primary focus being that of working on vocational skills and independence. His teacher is pleasant and caring, the older sister of a young man with special needs; this is her first teaching assignment and the affection she feels toward her students is obvious. Her youth brings with it an enthusiasm, sometimes missing for those whose profession has become routine.

This meeting, Corey’s transition IEP, was to discuss as well as document not only his educational needs for the following school year but also his needs as an adult. The paperwork, filled out before we arrived, stated my son with an IQ of 56 and minimal ability to express him self had no limitations indicating need for outside support as an adult. I wish I could say the disappointment and frustration I felt on this day was born simply from Corey’s teacher’s inexperience but unfortunately the seniors involved knew no more than she and in the end offered little advice.

Documents will be changed and with experience comes enlightenment but the “what if”’ still nags at my conscience. What if it had not been me but another parent who did not understand the consequence of what had been left out of their child’s portfolio? As it is the advice I was given at Corey’s “preadmission screening” four years ago was incorrect and he will be on a waiting list for at least five years before he may receive services and even then funding is limited. What if we had not planned for his adult life to be hinged on family support? I already know the answer. He would have been at home alone, just as several of his friends currently are, waiting…

Blackbird

2009-03-13T04:25:00.000-07:00

I woke up this morning to this tune flitting through my mind. I have'nt posted in a while so I thought I'd share. It's such a pretty song, I think written by Paul McCartney. So many meanings...

Blackbird singing in the dead of night.
Take these broken wings and learn to fly.
All your lifeYou were only waiting for this moment to arise.

Black bird singing in the dead of night.
Take these sunken eyes and learn to see
all your life you were only waiting for this moment to be free.

Blackbird fly,
Blackbird fly
Into the light of the dark black night.
Blackbird fly,
Blackbird fly Into the light of the dark black night.

Blackbird singing in the dead of night.
Take these broken wings and learn to fly.
All your lifeYou were only waiting for this moment to arise,
oh you were only waiting for this moment to arise,
oh you were only waiting for this moment to arise

25 things about me...

2008-08-22T21:59:00.000-07:00

I guess if Jessica has succumbed to peer pressure I will too.

25 things about me…

It’s midnight and I’m eating a blueberry pop tart. It could be worse; it’s at least the organic variety.
I have been married as many years as not.
Our beagle likes to wake me up at 5:30 A.M. to tell me she’s thirsty. (I’m a mean “mom” and won’t let her have a big drink before bed time.)
I wanted to grow up to be an artist when I was in the 7th grade.
I’ve had 15 minutes of fame as the artist I wanted to grow up to be and didn’t like it all that much.
I have a hard time keeping silent about things I feel are unjust.
I like Obama.
I’m indecisive and it’s been my life’s work to correct that character flaw. I’m getting better… or maybe not… I just can’t decide! (c;
My husband’s name is Roger but I call him Jake. Long story…
My parents are divorced.
I am the eldest of four.
Lucky Charms is my favorite breakfast cereal unless I’m feeling like a grown up and then I’ll eat Special K with red berries.
I grew up on a farm.
I love the DIY channel.
Phenomenon is one of my favorite movies.
My eyes are green as well as my favorite color.
I prefer contacts to glasses.
I don’t like to watch sports unless my kids are participating in them.
I played the clarinet in the high school band.
I am one year away from having a degree in horticulture.
I like antiques and things that have a history.
Ice tea is my favorite drink outside an occasional Corona w/ lime.
My shoes are size eleven. It’s my dad’s fault; he’s 6’ 8” and wears a size sixteen!
I believe we need to take better of our earth and all its creatures.
I believe nice matters.

Too Busy?

2008-06-21T21:40:00.001-07:00

Where have I been? Planting, weeding, watering, pondering, watching, creating, landscaping… The list is far too long and it took a nine year old boy with a milk mustache to recently yank me back to my reality with his comment of, “I was going to ask you for help but you were too busy.” Today we planted his lilies, which had been waiting patiently in pots for their place in the garden, allowing them to bloom and my youngest son to beam at the fruit of his labor.
So, yes I’m still here, Terri. I just needed a gentle reminder to not get lost in the mechanics of my purpose and remember that sharing the process is of equal or even greater merit than achieving the goal.

Seasons

2008-04-25T19:17:00.000-07:00

It's spring and another planting season is here. Corey is watering the tulips that were planted the day our dear friend and neighbor was informed her battle with cancer, only recently discovered, had been futile. A sunny October day... just a matter of months and yet it seems a life time. I recall telling her that day I wished her another growing season -- fellow lover of nature that she was. My wish for her was not to be, as her final day came before the first of winter.

Today as Corey watered I thought of our friend and how I missed her. Some things so a part of our character, retired elementary teacher as she was, I could almost hear her voice exclaiming to him the wonderful job he had executed. And so she will live on in our hearts, our dear friend, Ruby, who recognized the potential in every child.

What's in a Name?

2008-03-09T08:33:00.000-07:00

What's in a name? As parents we put a lot of thought into our children's names. We say them out loud over and over, considering everything from the reaction others may have upon hearing it to the way it would look on an office door. We consider family and tradition, our heritage, personal likes and dislikes, and frequency of use… "Aunt Hazel would be so proud if we named our girl after her... Hazel Nutt. Oops, scratch that!!" "No, not Eddie! He sat behind me in the fourth grade and constantly picked his nose!” Well maybe not, but you get my drift.

As I drive almost an hour, one direction, to class these days (What happens when you live in the middle of no where and school is south of nothing.) I’m allotted a great deal of thinking time, which for me is a good thing as personal thoughts seem a minimum at home. No less than three people generally requesting my time at once -- topics ranging from Day Light Savings Time, to saddling a T-Rex (Yes, it can be done with enough Velcro!), and why we can’t have soda with our lunch, just to name a few. Oh my, now I’m rambling, back to the original topic…

This past Friday, while traveling home, my thoughts skewed toward the importance of a name, especially when it involves necessity of patronage to encourage growth, and suddenly I got a “wild hair” to reconsider the name of our nursery. As I mentioned, public opinion has tendency to sway our decisions and in business can be critical, and so begins my informal “pole” (sorry, inside joke) or poll… Keeping in mind my play on words I’ll leave you with your three choices to vote from: 1.) Wild Hare Farm, 2.) Gray Hare Farm, 3.) Late Bloomer’s Nursery.
Don’t be shy! Voice your opinion and we’ll see if it compares to friends and family who have already voted.

Thirty Years

2008-02-12T09:10:00.001-08:00

Almost thirty years before this photo was taken of Corey and Buddy, a seventeen year old girl and her big sorrel gelding were striking a similar pose for her “senior picture”, as she approached her high school graduation. A girl, who at the time, had her mind set on the next leg of her journey being that of her as an animal science major (more specifically, equine) at a neighboring community college, not quite sure of where her aspirations would lead her. The only goal she was positive of, being that of securing a vocation which would leave her embedded in the only life she had ever known and had grown up loving. Life on a farm.
Circumstances sometimes force a shift in our goals, changing needs and blurring aspirations, altering the course of our lives. What rarely changes through out it all are our passions. The parts of our personality defining our character, often times leading us in directions we aren’t even conscience of at the time.
If you’re wondering by now where all of my philosophical meanderings are leading to in this post, it’s to the topic of karma. A subject of little consideration to me in the past. But while striving toward current objectives, I reflect on the conditions that have brought me here, and find it worthy of contemplation when considering the future.
You see, I am back to where I began. The college I attend, now as a horticulture major, seeking the education I consider necessary to secure my goal, is that same little community college I aspired to attend almost thirty years ago. The goal has not changed as I still love the farm and the promise of its existence. My passion of nature, and the wonderment it brings, handed down to my children.
Still wondering where karma comes in to play? As fate would have it, the head of the horticulture department where I now attend hinges his teaching practices on a philosophy of student led learning. The younger sibling of a man with special needs, his goal for his undergraduates to leave his instruction with knowledge detailed to their own requirements as well as curriculum specific. And if that’s not convincing enough, my Ag Chemicals instructor is the same man who would have supervised my education in equine science all those thirty years ago. Whether by my own hand or that of fate, late bloomer that I am, it seems I am now exactly where I was meant to be.

H.A.L.O. Valentine

2008-02-09T05:32:00.000-08:00

Make a free ecard - it's easy!

"What are We Doin' Next, Mom?"

2008-02-06T08:01:00.000-08:00

A constant in my life is my eldest son's question, repeated a myriad of times each day, "What are we doin' next, Mom?" Fairly standard stuff if you don’t think about it. But for me the utterance of each response holds potential of all importance, as you see, the answer to Corey’s eminent questions are fundamental in his world, preparing him for transition, determining his days, shaping his life.
As children mature the verbiage of their questions often changes. The pronouns of their query typically shifting from we to I and their willingness of acceptance in our answers seldom a given. Challenging as it may be for us (and them) this,
I suppose, is what our ultimate goal has pretty much been from day one; to produce independent, problem solving souls, who question life and their ability to shape their own destiny.
At nineteen, my second born has not made this transition in thought, his questions of “what’s next” still including “we”. Irony playing a significant role in our grown up relationship -- the memory of my anxiety over whether or not he would ever be capable of independence of his father and I still fresh in my mind, as I lay the foundation for his future. My answers now more significant than ever before as they affect so much more than just our timing for lunch or if we will be stopping at the store today.
The “seed” for Late Bloomers has lain dormant for a number of years, a personal vision of sorts, just waiting for development. A year ago, when Corey was asked as he approached the end of his high school career, what it was that he wanted to do when he grew up, he answered with the confidence of a valedictorian, “A farmer. I want to be a farmer.” And so Late Bloomers seed was planted -- a little bit about farming, a little more of gardening, and a lot about the inclusion of an entire family and community.

2008-02-05T16:03:00.000-08:00

I guess our little blog spot makes us official... sort of like a secret once you've said it out loud.
A bunch of 'late bloomers', not at all like the seeds you start in a sunny window in February that grow so fast.
And so we shall begin...