As families prepare to observe the various religious and cultural holidays this winter season, it inherently includes school-based winter concerts.
Yaaaay! (Can you sense my enthusiasm?) Really, though, they are pretty cool. You get the opportunity to see your kids connect with their peers, teachers, and the broader school community in a really meaningful way. Well, for those of us with special needs kids, this narrative can be a bit different. Depending on your kid’s need(s), s/ he might be rolled out in a wheelchair, or walk with walking sticks, or present him or herself a little differently than his/her peers. Let me try to explain. This past week was my son’s school’s annual holiday concert. There were two groups of kids scheduled to sing: the 4th graders (older kids) and the 3rd graders (my son’s group). Each group sang for about 25 minutes, which was brilliant because I didn’t feel like it was “overkill” with the amount of people showed up. In fact, it was a REALLY strong showing of parents, caregivers, and other community members. To see that many folks felt good. The 4th graders were performing and “doing their thing”. But, there was one young man from whom I could NOT pull my eyes. He was doing “his” thing just a little more than the other kids. He sang with more pride and enthusiasm (P & E) than the others. He held his notes juuuust a little bit longer than the other kids. And he was placed right in the center of the choir, I suspect intentionally, for the positive attention that he might get. Now, I don’t know if he was a special needs kid. However, I did suspect it. My wife and I chuckled because he was singing his heart out and the entire audience knew it from the beginning. And, they encouraged it by their response to him. It was great. Then, the 3rd graders got up there. Avery previously told us that his group had 8 songs to sing, but it was a medley, which kept it moving (YES!). But, my kid’s presentation would likely be similar to the 4th grade boy we saw just a few minutes earlier. And it sure was (I’m laughing as I type this!). Among Avery’s strengths, like many kids with autism, is his ability to memorize. I’ve also mentioned that unlike some other kids with autism, he is very social and expressive in his language and behavior. That trait is less prevalent in kids with autism. And now it’s time to sing. Mine was the kid who held HIS notes just a little longer than the others. Mine was the kid who would look down the choir line and make sure the other kids were singing their lines…because you know HE knew their lines like he knew his own. And, there was some “minor” choreography. Well, for Avery, there’s NO SUCH THING as minor choreography. The boy loves to dance. So, naturally, mine was the kid that waved his hands and leaned back and belted loud notes in ways that were a little more dramatic than his peers Good thing they didn’t have a 2-step! He might have jumped out of the choir stand! All LaChan and I could do was laugh and celebrate our guy…our special guy…our different guy, who we believe has been beautifully and wonderfully made. After the concert, he found us and told us HE did an AWESOME job. Yup, that’s my kid.
11 Comments
As the father and husband in a special needs family, I’m hopeful. My mood doesn’t always reflect my hope as much as it should, but in the grand scheme of our everyday experiences, I remain hopeful that my children will have meaningful lives now and into their adolescence and adulthood.
I definitely fit the profile of a dad who spends a fair amount of time thinking about how his kids are perceived by their peers and other authority figures in their lives. That comes up in a number of ways with Nile and Avery. For example, this was the general exchange between Nile (daughter) and me after a school field trip: Me: Hey, Ni. How was your field trip today? Nile: It was cold, but it was good. We collected fossil samples. Me: That’s cool. How many did you collect? Nile: Two. Me: (after a pause) You guys were out there for a pretty long time. How many were you supposed to collect? Nile: I don’t think there was a specific number. Me: How many samples did other students collect? Nile: Most people collected like 4 or 5. Some collected more. Me: So…you had the SMALLEST number of fossils in the class? *probably the wrong message being communicated with my last question* Now, consider my special needs guy in the context of peers and instructors while participating in his karate class while I watch on the periphery. His instructor (who happens to be a man) is guiding the class pretty efficiently and Avery’s meeting the expectations well. He’s following directions, his forms look good, and he’s showing P & E (pride and enthusiasm). All is well…in my world. A female instructor then moves to the front of class and is given permission to lead a segment. Because Avery, at the time, had not had ANY female karate instructors, I imagine he had a tough time making sense of what was happening. Autism can do that to kids sometimes. For Avery, once he adjusts to a routine it can be REALLY difficult to introduce something new without preparing him for the pending change. And, here was an unexpected transition, with no explanation or context. Like clockwork, MY KID has a great response, loud enough for the entire class to hear. Avery: Hey! Girls can’t lead karate class! *Jesus be a fence. We’re about to get kicked out!* Thankfully, the instructors were gracious, as were other parents and older students who didn’t take offense to what Avery just communicated about gender role stereotypes. In fact, they did more laughing than I would have expected. I was concerned that we may not get asked to come back after that. Again, I found myself overly concerned about how people perceived my kid and our being stigmatized as a result of that perception. Even with my own challenges of thinking too much about my kids in the context of others, I’m thankful that I can remain hopeful and pray that other parents of special needs kids can become and remain hopeful, too. My kids have unique gifts, abilities, and perspectives. And as a result, I am assured they have something great to contribute not just to my life, but to the lives of folks around them in school, at the playground, in our church, in our community, and everywhere else they go. I was reminded to be hopeful this week after seeing a segment on ESPN’s Sportscenter. It’s the story of a teenager with autism who is a die-hard Rutgers football fan. The video reminded me that it was his unique gifts, abilities, and perspectives that provided him in incomparable opportunity within his community which now can be celebrated worldwide. It’s my hope that you remain hopeful after seeing this amazing video about Anthony Starego. Check out, “Kick of Hope” by clicking on the following link: http://espn.go.com/blog/bigeast/post/_/id/39662/video-kick-of-hope Peace, -mike I can remember when Avery first got his diagnosis and hearing words that might as well been spoken in a foreign language.
IEP. FBA. ABA. EIS. PRISE. IDEA. 504. CST. I & R S. RTI. W – T – H ?! The initial meetings with Avery’s specialists, therapists, teachers, and case managers got on my nerves. The people and the meetings got on my nerves because it seemed like they were usually talking to each other and not to me. My experience gave new meaning and dimension to the concept of the Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison. I felt like an outsider. I felt overlooked. I was frequently annoyed, while simultaneously overwhelmed. I also felt guilty and defensive. I felt guilty because when my son was diagnosed with autism, I was working as a high school counselor. I felt like I should have been much more aware of how complex the experience of walking into a school building, meeting a bunch of specialists (who were like experts in special education), and being handed a 20-something page document REMINDING me of all the areas in which my son was not developing typically. Unfortunately, I was not working as closely with special needs kids where I worked. So in those early meetings, I was just waiting for someone to say, “Mr. Hannon, aren’t you a guidance counselor? I assumed you KNEW more about this process.” Wasn’t too proud of that. And now, I was in the position as the parent of a special needs kid. But, not just the typical parent who comes to these meetings. You see, even when I did rarely attend meetings for special needs kids in my job, I NEVER (ever, ever, ever) saw dads in those meetings. And, honestly, my son’s team of professionals could probably say the same thing when they saw me. Dads were usually likely absent for a number of reasons – from work restrictions to just not having a direct role in their kids’ lives – but I didn’t want that to be my story. My goal was to not let anything stand in the way of my being present and actively contributing to this process, even if my presence represented something new to Avery’s team of professional or for me. Then, there was the language barrier. I was overwhelmed because the folks used language like I was a native speaker. Not so much. I knew that an IEP (Individual Educational Planning) meeting was the meeting when the parents and the team got together to discuss the kid’s progress, goals, and range of services. But, when they started talking about FBAs (functional behavioral analyses) and reports from EIS (early intervention services) to determine what types of interventions provided by the ABA (applied behavioral analysis) therapist would best suit Avery…and then turn and ask me what I thought… *crickets* After noticing my hesitancy, they learned to immediately look to my wife for that kind of feedback. In the moment, that made us ALL more comfortable. But, over time I knew I had homework to do. I would have not just any “say” in what was happening. I wanted to have an “informed say” in this process. When the pace would get too fast at our subsequent meetings, I would work up the courage to stop everyone and say: Um, I don’t know what that means. Would you say that differently or elaborate a bit? Thankfully, over time, I’ve been able to get a better handle on the CST’s (child study team’s) role in helping my son realize his educational potential. And, I’ve become much more aware of PRISE (parental rights in special education) so that I don’t always feel like an outsider who doesn’t know the code of special education. I imagine that many parents and caregivers of special needs children are forced to learn the language of special education. If they don’t, they run the chance of feeling overwhelmed and overlooked in the planning and administration of their child’s educational support services. Counselors and other mental health professionals know that any group has its own set of group norms or values, which are spoken and unspoken. It’s now important to me to help make those norms more transparent, while also shape them to be a little more inclusive. Easy as ABC, right? It has always been important for my wife and me to connect our kids to the local community through recreational activities. We were raised that way and have assumed a similar practice as parents. From the time they were each around 4, our kids have participated in organized activities like soccer, softball/T-ball, ballet, karate, choir, and violin. Learning ballet and violin seem to be sticking a bit more with Nile (daughter) than the others, although she still loves singing and other kinds of creative and performing arts. Avery (son) loves it all – he loves competing in sports and academics (unless he loses, of course…that’s an entirely different blog topic) and creative performance (singing, dancing, drumming, etc.).
In our relocation back to South Jersey this past summer, we wanted to be intentional about finding activities that would challenge and support them in healthy ways. We found a ballet studio for Nile fairly easily and she’s resumed playing violin in school. Avery began learning the Korean martial art, Tang Soo Do, last year, while living in Central PA where we found a great instructor who ran a small studio. Wait, can I give a shout out here? (*holding the microphone like a celebrity on the BET awards show*) SHOUT OUT TO VALLALLA’S MARTIAL ARTS ACADEMY IN STATE COLLEGE, PA! Tony was firm, fair, and encouraging to all of the kids when we observed him. We believed his studio and instruction would be a great fit for Avery, and it was. The instructor also has the same spiritual/religious beliefs as we have (Christian), so it was easy to talk to him about our faith and how important it was and is in helping Avery develop his skills, even with a diagnosed disability. In our return home to NJ, I was particularly anxious about finding a martial arts studio that would be similarly good for Avery, which meant a few specific things: 1 - an instructor who would be sensitive to his needs, should he have a meltdown or engage in an activity (e.g., repetitive speech) that other folks may not understand, 2 - an instructor who was more strength-based than deficit-based, or practiced acknowledging and celebrating students’ strengths overwhelmingly more than focusing on where the students may fall short, and 3 - a studio that would not just assume that because Avery seemed to fit in because of his profile as a kid with high functioning autism, that his needs would go overlooked. I know. I’m a choosy beggar. I’m okay with that. At this point in my life, I’d rather ask about accommodations and be told they can’t be met, then not ask at all and never know how accommodating someone is capable of being (I’ll let that sit for a minute). After visiting studios, talking with friends and family and having them pray for our transition, praying with LaChan, and most importantly, TALKING TO AVERY, we found a studio that we believed could meet most, if not all of these preferences. The instructor, who is a great guy, met Avery one day when he and LaChan were visiting without me. He made a comment to LaChan that we hear fairly frequently when folks find out Avery has an autism spectrum disorder: I would have never known he had autism. How did you fix him? *Sigh* I’ve got mixed feelings about a statement like this. On the one hand, I know it’s meant to be a compliment and I’m appreciative. Really, I am. Furreal. On the other hand, though, it implies that something was, well…broken. I’m not too fond of that. It’s kind of like when you come across folks who have low expectations of you so when you meet or exceed those expectations they give you a compliment that highlights their low expectations (e.g., “You speak so well!”). Or, maybe (*I’m about to really be painfully transparent now*), I need to acknowledge that I have been guilty of communicating the same sentiment. I’m guilty of wanting a quick fix, formula, or clean up strategy to eliminate my feelings of insecurity, discomfort, or being judged because of my son’s diagnosis and symptoms. And, for those of us who are members of the larger community of people with disabilities (as caretakers), one of the hardest things to do when finding out about your son’s/daughter’s/sibling’s disability is to confront your OWN FEELINGS, IDEAS, OR STEREOTYPES ABOUT PEOPLE WITH DISABILITIES. *Sigh* So, how did we fix him? We didn’t. We believe in a God that gently reminds us all of how human we are – with all of our strengths and limitations – whether we have a diagnosed disability or not. And, we attribute any measure of success that we experience to Him. We are also continuously learning to be patient, to be flexible, to be honest, and to give and receive constructive criticism. These skills and qualities, I would argue, are critical for my own family’s success, and I’m pretty willing to bet that they apply to any family. So, in the most severe circumstances, like if Avery lost his ability to verbally communicate (which can happen in children on the autism spectrum – the diagnosis is Child Disintegrative Disorder), I have to resolve that he is not, nor was ever broken, and consequently, didn’t need fixing. Because in the loss of one skill, I trust more of his many strengths will emerge even stronger. For the people who know me really well, they KNOW, I’m no “Mr. Fix It”. I’m that guy who helps with home improvement projects, because I’m not handy. My wife is a beast, though. I HATE going to Home Depot with her because the staff members look at me for questions and answers, and I just direct them to her. And while she is an immensely talented teacher and behaviorist, my wife didn’t “clean up” autism’s mess in our family. She modeled the flexibility, patience and honesty we needed to see so that we could confront our own limitations, not Avery’s. I appreciate your reading and welcome any/all comments. Peace, -mike My wife and I had a rude awakening a few weeks ago at our 5th grade daughter’s Parent – Teacher conferences. She does pretty well in school and would probably be considered high-achieving or academically talented based on evidence like grades, standardized tests, and her overall communication skills (e.g., thinking, reading, writing, speaking). In fact, we made a decision this year – and it was a hard one considering our strong public school educator identities – to send her to a private school….and it’s got ALL the bells and whistles. I’m talking REALLY small classes, a strong commitment and follow-through with technology, and an unwavering integration of the arts across the curriculum. With all of those features, we naively made some assumptions about what her early experience in her new school would be. Those assumptions included: a smooth academic transition, social and emotional support that matched her personality and preferences, and teachers who would just KNOW how to best communicate their expectations to her without any misunderstandings.
Man, were we WRONG. DEAD WRONG. As we engaged with each teacher we were generally pleased with most of what we heard. However, as we discussed with one teacher her performance in a subject in which she has to work a little harder, we realized that these folks really didn’t know our girl. In fact, to expect familiarity in just the first 8 weeks of school was simply inappropriate and unfair. Our frustration was a bit misdirected. As my counseling colleagues would say, my wife and I needed to use some “I” statements! What did we realize, you ask? We were reminded that we need to advocate for our typically developing child as much as we need to advocate for our special needs child. We have become really guilty, at times, of establishing a presence (mostly positive, but sometimes a little hostile when necessary) with our son’s school personnel because of some of his vulnerabilities. But, in doing so, we have overlooked our daughter’s vulnerabilities. There is tons of research out there… Better yet, it doesn’t take a researcher to know that sibling relationships are complex and nuanced. Siblings love each other. They surely get on each other’s “last, little, itty, bitty, (black)” nerve. They support each other, fight each other and fight FOR each other. They compete with each other. This experience becomes even more complex when one sibling has a disability. The great research that does exist just confirms, scientifically, what we already know and LIVE: typically developing children who have a siblings with disabilities (depending on the severity), can often feel: - neglected or overlooked at home and in school, especially if both children attend the same school - burdened with additional responsibilities because of their siblings needs or limitations - ashamed/embarrassed of their sibling - protective of their sibling - like they must act as an interpreter for their sibling - angry/resentful toward their sibling with a disability - angry/resentful toward their parent(s) Many of these emotions, arguably, come as a result of the sibling with the disability garnering much of the family’s attention, resources, and interest. They almost become like a sovereign figure within the family. And here we thought we did pretty well when the truth is, this time, we fell a little short. Our experience, education, and this particular experience has told us to make sure we assert ourselves equally with both children – in celebration and in conflict – in their endeavors. And even though one has a disability, any parent of more than one child should be prepared to do the same. Our kids have different needs, different motivators, and different preferences. Those qualities don’t change because one has a particular condition. Now the picture is not all bad for children who have siblings with disabilities. We also know that there are benefits associated with children having siblings with disabilities. These unique group of children have been found to be more empathic and sensitive, have a higher capacity for resilience, possess strong feelings of cohesion within their families, and to communicate great admiration for their siblings with disabilities. Who wouldn’t want to have kids with these qualities? The question for our family (and maybe your family, too) is: How are we fostering these qualities in both of our children? Your reactions and comments are always welcome. Peace, -mike It was around 5th or 6th grade I remember my dad really beginning to talk to me directly about puberty and all the wonderful things associated with it: physical changes, sexual ideas and desires, anxious and awkward interactions with girls to whom I might be attracted, the (forgone) hope that I might grow just a little bit taller, etc. Naturally, the conversations with him were strange at the beginning.
Our ongoing dialogue began on a seemingly random day with my responding to his question, “How was your day?” by telling him that among the day’s other happenings, we talked about sex in my health class and I overheard some kids from class joking about it as I walked home from school (I was rolling solo around that time because I was the new kid in school). In his unique way, he availed himself to me by saying that if I EVER had any questions about sex, feel free to JUST ask him… I never JUST asked him…EVER Thankfully, we found ways to engage about things like relationships – romantic and platonic – and found our rhythm as we both got older and more confident in navigating touchy topics in my house. And here I am now, the father of a 10-year old girl and an 8-year old boy. I’ve tried to avail myself to my daughter by intentionally bringing things up and hopefully stripping away the awkwardness that can come with a pre-adolescent girl talking to her dad about stuff related to puberty. I tell her that they’ll likely be, at some point, some boy or girl who thinks she’s pretty and as a result, act in a really weird way toward her because s/he likes her. They may vie for her attention, seem a bit nosy and overbearing, or be really, really nice. Or, it may happen the other way around. She may find a person really cute and consequently vie for attention, become preoccupied, or just want to spend time with that person. My ongoing act of chivalry with her is to always carry her book bag when I pick her up from school. I’ve tried to communicate that things like offering to carry her book bag (even though she often tells me she can carry it herself) is one way a person can demonstrate their interest in her…beyond the other weird stuff. But what about THE BOY? About two weeks ago, he came home and told his mom (who in turn, told me) that a boy in his class kissed him on the cheek. *Blank stare* A few days later, one of his classmates, who happens to be our neighbor, gave him her phone number. He placed the number on the fridge with a magnet and subsequently told us he planned on going on a date with her. *Blank stare* And thus, my wife and I have to work through the process of not just responding to our boy getting closer to experiencing puberty in a couple of years, but also the notion of helping him discern what may or may not be socially appropriate as he enters these pubescent years and the changes and corresponding feelings associated with it. How did we handle it, you ask? Mom to Avery: “You ain’t going on no dates! The only person you can take on a date is your mom!" But, his mom and I reinforced, that he can tell his male classmate that it’s not polite, or it makes him (well, really us) feel uncomfortable for anyone to kiss, touch, or hug him without permission. Thankfully, this isn’t a new phenomenon for him. Just a few months back he did the same thing to one of his female friends in our old neighborhood. When the girl told her mom (thankfully, she wasn’t offended), the mom told us. At that point we told him that you can’t just kiss people without permission. Children with an autism spectrum disorder (e.g., Asperger’s, PDD-NOS, etc.) can have a hard time taking one skill that they use really well in a specific context (e.g., making sure you say hello to mommy in the morning, but ONLY saying hello to mommy) and generalizing it to broader contexts. Or, the opposite can happen. They can take a skill and apply it EVERYWHERE in EVERY CONTEXT (e.g., breaking out in a Zumba dance ANYWHERE he hears salsa or merengue music). We’re fortunate that our son is verbal, expressive, and a giver and receiver of affection. And, I want him to remain affectionate because it reminds our family of what it feels like to be the object of affection. But, I’m not ready for him to share that affection with everybody, even if they want to kiss him or he wants to date them. At least not now. Reactions, opinions, and constructive feedback are always welcome and appreciated. Peace, -mike I was at a counseling conference a few weeks back where I had to make a presentation. During the presentation, I shared information about the scripts boys and men are socialized to learn and use during their lives. The idea isn’t new; male children in the United States are generally socialized to be resilient, self-directed, self-sufficient, and in some cases, invulnerable. I was raised with two sisters, but I spent a lot of time with male cousins and played sports as a kid with boys in my neighborhood and larger community (shout out to the Boro!). When situations arose that might elicit tears, the scripts from parents, cousins, and coaches were frequently to the tune of:
“I know you’re not about to cry?!” “You are too old to be crying over that!” “Stop girlin!” Or, something like that. Matt Englar-Carlson, Glenn Good, and James Mahalik are a team of researchers that have done some really interesting work in the area of male socialization. One of their biggest contributions that have stuck with me are the scripts they say boys are socialized to learn. I think fathers, by extension, are very likely to then reteach these scripts to their sons. Those scripts are the: 1. Strong and silent script, which refers to boys and men not having the ability or permission to express the range of emotions they experience; 2. Tough guy script, which refers to displaying a demeanor of fearlessness, aggressiveness, and/or invulnerability; 3. Give’em hell script, which refers to the act of using aggressive behavior in response to experiencing an uncomfortable feeling or emotion (e.g., grief, loss, embarrassment, etc.); and, 4. Playboy script, which refers to engaging in frequent and/or risky sexual behavior. For any men reading this, is this familiar? For women readers, have you seen these scripts being played out in the boys and men to whom you are connected? I saw a version of the tough guy script being performed just the other day. I was in a high school classroom (I’m a school counselor) with a teacher and student at the end of the day. Just the 3 of us were there. The student was getting feedback on his work and the teacher made a comment to the effect of, “I don’t want my comments to be hurtful but you can do so much better than what you are doing now. You can be a really strong student.” Well, the student immediately responded, “Mrs. (insert name here), you could never hurt me.” I couldn’t believe it, but I don’t know why I was surprised. The response was developmentally appropriate, and he wanted to make sure his female teacher knew that he could NEVER get hurt. I just had to chuckle to myself…and of course, keep this young man on my radar should he and I have any further interactions. So dads and other caregivers, what scripts are you giving your boys? More importantly, are those scripts helpful or harmful as they move through their development? I know I give my son scripts to use. Some of them are helpful, especially for a child who doesn’t always pick up on subtle social cues. We’ve tried to help him express his feelings (e.g., “That hurt my feelings”, “You’re making me really mad right now”, “I’m really frustrated”, etc.). But, some of the scripts I’ve given him are reminiscent of the ones I’ve learned (and mastered), such as, “Crying is for babies, not big boys!” Clearly, I’ve got more work to do…I’ve got to learn, and then share, some other scripts that will help, not hinder, my son’s ability to be transparent, loving, and willing to take risks. That’s when there’s evidence of my fidelity to him and other young men with whom I have relationships. Comments and reactions are always welcomed and appreciated. Peace, -mike Blog 1
This is the beginning of a public diary entry, or blog, about fathering. My name is Mike Hannon. I’m a counselor by profession and a father by biological and societal standards. I have a wonderful partner and wife, LaChan, who I’ve known since 1992 and married in 2000. We have 2 great kids: Nile (daughter) who is a 10 year old 5th grader and Avery (son) who is an 8 year old 3rd grader. I’ve been toiling over the idea of blogging because I realize it’s something I need to try. My ideas, I believe, are worth sharing. Notions of fatherhood and family REALLY resonate with me because they are a huge part of my identity. I consider my position as a family member and father in most everything I do. It has become even more salient as a doctoral student in counseling. My dissertation (Lord willing, to be completed no later than June 2013), is on how men make meaning of being the fathers of children with autism. My son, Avery, has a form of autism and that diagnosis has literally changed the trajectory of our family’s life, as it does with so many other families living with and caring for kids with disabilities. So, now that you’ve got a little bit of context, I wanted to share my most recent hurdle…I can’t think of a better word to describe how I’m feeling about it. My son is considered “high functioning” (which means something very unique to a bunch of people). But, for us, that essentially means that he’s in a regular education program, is verbal, expressive, has developed the capacity to initiate and engage in meaningful peer friendships, and exhibits behavior that is generally considered, socially appropriate. The easier way to say that is: he doesn’t stand out like other kids with autism who are more severely affected by the diagnosis. I’ve been reading (for pleasure and professional development) Uncommon fathers: Reflections on raising a child with a disability by Donald Meyer. It’s a great read for me as a counselor, but more importantly it’s helping me to connect with other dads with similar experiences. So…Avery saw the book as we were getting ready for karate this evening and asked me: “Daddy are you an uncommon father?” You see my wife, daughter, and I have not told Avery he has autism, but I’ve been toiling over how I will do that. I’ve heard and seen horror stories of kids having a diagnosis for years and their finding out through their school counselor, school psychologist, or private therapist. Frankly, I don’t wanna be that dude. I owe it to my kid to inform him of his strengths and support him in all areas in which he may struggle. How do I tell him? What do I say about this diagnosis and what it means for him versus another kid who has autism? I’ve been attempting to be prayerful about it and don’t believe I received any clarity about how it should be done. What I do know is that members of this particular community have reconstructed autism into a really creative acronym: Always Unique Totally Interesting Sometimes Mysterious. I want to be able to do that for Avery and for those who may not appreciate his awesome peculiarities and ultimately desire to meet my responsibility of fidelity to him. I’m open to feedback or suggestions should you have any… |
AuthorI'm Mike. If you have an interest in mental health, family functioning, and disability advocacy, this blog may be of interest to you. Archives
January 2016
Categories |