Monday, September 21, 2009
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Retarded?
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.
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?
Is there really a benefit to eating organic food?
Visit Black Hawk Organics' blog and join the debate!
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Dream Big
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
Monday, March 23, 2009
Patience
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…
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Transition
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…
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…
Friday, March 13, 2009
Blackbird
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
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
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