Delayed?

The old-fashioned term for a disability involving a low IQ used to be mental retardation. But that has connotations and is no longer allowed because it is a demeaning term. What we are left with today is mentally challenged or developmentally delayed. But it's all the same thing, and when I say retarded, I mean no disrespect. I mean that unlike the children in Lake Wobegon, Ben's IQ is decidedly below average.

Delayed ---- retarded --- slow???

Yes, medically, physically, emotionally, academically.

Persons with Down's are delayed  in almost every sense of that word, which is why I labeled this post WHAT, ME HURRY?  Ben's immune system is slow to mount in response to microorganisms. Ben may get sick with the same thing everyone else in the family has, but he will manifest symptoms later than any of us and usually be sicker, since his body is slow to register that something invaded and therefore slow to respond and by the time he responds his system has taken a serious hit. Ben is slow to register pain, if hit, burned or otherwise 'assaulted' by something that does not feel good. It is almost like he kinda registers something, gets a frown on his face, wonders what it is and then reacts... in much the same way that cartoon characters do not get affected by gravity when running out over a cliff until they actually see that they have nothing to stand on but thin air.

Ben is also slow physically. He can take half a morning to get dressed, meticulously eyeing one sock at a time, then slowly bending down to slip the sock over the toes, straightening the sock over the heel, carefully making sure there are no folds,  then up the leg with a good meticulous long-drawn out pull all the way up to the knees, then slowly lower the leg, after which he fiddles around looking for the other sock and repeats the process. You don't want to watch this, because if you are in a hurry, his process will absolutely drive you batty. If you include his need to also put on his AFOs (leg braces) over the socks, and then insert the AFOs into the shoes, to say nothing of his carefully velcro-ing his shoes at least three times per strap before he is satisfied with the position of the straps on his shoes--- from barefoot to fully shod can easily take 20 minutes for Ben.

Ditto for drying himself after a bath, getting dressed and so forth. Nothing wrong with it, but if you are a fairly fast and more than slightly impatient person like me who carefully calculates every minute of your day to get everything done as efficiently as possible... you had best look away and let Ben do his thing, HOWEVER LONG IT TAKES, because watching the process can be enough to make a grown woman wail in despair. :)

 If you cannot take it any more and you choose to step in and predict all the disasters in the world fall over his little blonde head if he does not hurry the process .... guess what??? It helps not one iota. --- Ben's epitaph is 'HE-WHO-WILL-NOT-BE-HURRIED'.

In fact, encouraging him (or threatening him within an inch of his life) to speed up the process has the opposite effect. --- And so mom is duly humbled, gets daily lessons in mastering the art of patience, and has long since learned to leave the room with a smile.

Now, the word retarded, in broader terms simply means delayed, and I would say that in terms of Down Syndrome that term does not totally fit the bill. Yes, they are slow, but that is not all. The issue (mentally speaking) is not just one of being 'delayed', since delayed sort of indicates that sooner or later one will catch up. For example, if your flight is delayed out of Chicago, you are not usually afraid that you will never get to Denver, Colorado, rather you understand delayed to mean that you will get to Denver later than you expected to get to Denver. -- However, if a person is developmentally delayed (or if we dare use the term mentally retarded), the person is not just delayed in getting to destinations or milestones of life, but there are definitely destinations that that person will never get to.

For example, in the case of my son, who is estimated to have an IQ of 45 (on the low side for Down's, but not on the extremely low side), abstractions are beyond him. For example, we can work from now till the cows come home, but he will never be able to grasp basic algebra. [At this point if I am having a conversation with another person I am often told by my conversational partner that he or she does not get algebra either, but I would maintain that that is a different story. Part of my job where I work does sometimes involve teaching college algebra to persons who plan on graduating from college, and I have yet to meet one person (of college material) who cannot get through college algebra]. In contrast, my son cannot even begin to grasp what x is or why we are looking for x. He is pretty much stuck somewhere back in the very concrete concepts of 2nd grade reading and math, unable to carry the 10s, but able to punch numbers on a calculator to assist him where his powers of abstraction fail him.

To say that he is developmentally delayed is, as I am suggesting, highly inadequate. He is equipped with less IQ points BY DESIGN, from conception, and he ain't ever gonna fully catch up. For example, while he is mentally about 8 years old, I cannot ask him hypothetical questions like "Ben, if you could ______________ ?" The subjunctive "if you could' is completely lost on him whereas most typical 8 year olds are already capable of that abstraction.  With Ben, the term 'if you....' never works. So we struggle, for example, to teach him about strangers, whether you go with them when they ask, where they are allowed to touch you. In school they try to teach safety by teaching the kids in special ed "circles" of family at home, of extended family, of friends, of people we know, of strangers. Each circle teaches what mom and dad can do to you, what strangers can and cannot do to you, but Ben cannot get the abstractions of any of those circles and what the different persons are allowed to do or not do to him. He does not understand why we do not give the technician at the optical store a hug after he adjusts our glasses,  or why we don't stand at the side of the road waiting for the school bus waving our arms and saying hi to every car that passes on the road.  HIs is a trusting, loving spirit, well-meaning, and thinking well of all. We have much to learn from that spirit, at the same time that we need to protect him from the few extremely sick people out there who would (if they could) take advantage of his willing, trusting, loving heart.

 It's not like he will in 10 years catch up to an 18 year old level of functioning. Mentally Ben functions at about 8 years of age and that is as far as he will ever get. Emotionally, emphatically and in other ways, he is more perceptive and compassionate than an 8 year old. He has a better grasp on the rules, and cares more about following them than most 8 year olds, so NO, he is not 8. He is a 17 year old boy with Down's.

So what, you may say, let him be slow. What is the big rush? Life is too speedy to start with. And I agree. I get him up plenty early in the morning for him to take as long as he likes to get himself ready, eat breakfast and go out the door at a leisurely pace, without being rushed or pushed, and it works beautifully --- most of the time.  There are just those few times where something in life requires that we hurry, and those times I do almost everything for Ben, just to get us going on time. --- And then there are those few times where hurry is necessary and Ben has to muster it, but almost can't, and those can be frustrating. Like today when we left a building down in Denver and were parked a good 5 minutes walk from the building and it was raining cats and dogs. We had no coats, no umbrella, and Ben is way beyond a size I can carry any more. He just walked at his normal leisurely pace, and by the time we got to the car, we were completely drenched.

Last when Ben's older brother Alex (aged 19) was home, when we went places, Alex, who is at a military academy and used to walking very fast everywhere, took to walking one step behind Ben and guiding him along with a flat hand against his back, the way they do in their company when they are on runs and some of their company mates are so spent they can hardly run any further. :) It's a good trick. I learned something and I have used it since when I need Ben to keep moving.

Ben is a gift. I continue taking daily lessons in patience, in sniffing the flowers along the way, in stopping to pet a dog, admire the way light interference and refraction (yes, the physicist is coming out here) in an oil spill in the parking lot.  -- Besides, what is the big hurry... there is no race. There is only right now, so take a deep breath and enjoy it!!

Child Care/Dependent Care

I sometimes get asked what the most difficult thing about having a son with Down Syndrome is.

People imagine that perhaps living with a person who is mentally retarded is difficult---that you (the care giver)  lack in patience with the person with special needs  (AND YOU DO sometimes!!), or that the health issues and medical appointments grind on one's nerves (and they might, at times overwhelm you). Others wonder if I look at other boys aged 17, compare Ben to them and shed a tear at what he could have been, but isn't.

And those things can be hard, though, I have to say after 17 years one is so used to all of that, I never compare Ben to any of his age-appropriate peers who happen to have normal genomes. I got over that years ago.

I would say though, that while having a kid with Down's can be very stressful, most of it (as you have already have the impression from reading other posts in this blog) has to do with finding a way to help my son fit into society in such a way that both he and his parents can function as normally and as stress free as possible.

And of all the stress that come from having to function in society, the biggest stress BY FAR is dependent care.

Pretty much, I would say, dependent care is so tough to find and pay for that those of us who care round the clock for adults who cannot be left alone at home at all, get out very little to start with, unless we can take our dependents with us.-- We try for dependent care when we must, and if it is not absolutely necessary, we usually just stay home.

In my case, I am pretty lucky in many respects. Ben is easy to take along to church, movies, shopping, etc. He is potty trained, he can wait his turn, for the most part he can be quiet when asked to (not always, but most times) and he can entertain himself if I bring paper and colors, or an iPad, or something for him to read or play with.

I don't expect to get out much, apart from going to work on my own. I am used to that quiet home life. AND I am very grateful to live with Ben.

The problem is that  I have to work to be able to care for Ben, and to do that, I need dependent care, and that is the most difficult part of living with and caring for Ben.

Why is dependent care difficult, or rather what is difficult about it?

What is difficult is that persons that are no longer little children need to be cared for as if they were still children. And most people are not comfortable with that.

What is difficult about this care is first of all obtaining it. Even when I am willing to pay for it it is hard to obtain.

For the next 3 years, school takes care of Ben 7:30-3 until he is 21. And then what happens to Ben while I go to work??? (Actually, I am not too sure just now, but that is another blog for another day when I have learned more about that).

So let me just discuss 'odd hour' and 'off hours' dependent care in this blog.

Right now, the odd-houred work event is the most difficult event of all--that random Saturday event that one MUST be at work for--- just because work WILl occasionally have those odd hours. And when you work at a small private college, spring graduation time is littered with such events.

The random person on the street would think this would be easy, after all, most humans have  had young children once, and they would either get grandma or they would get a sitter and just pay the going rate--- and off they go to work, what's the big deal?

Well, in our family's case, we have no relatives within thousands of miles, so forget grandma. She was never near enough (neither grandma was).

That leaves 'just getting a sitter'.

Well, most teen girls (and boys)  who are available for babysitting feel awkward around kids with Down's or other disabilities, so many of them flat out do not want to watch my disabled child even if he is easy, would mind himself and really just needs a person with a bit more judgment  than he has, in the house.

In addition, in the rare event where I have found a teen girl who might have been interested,  her parents have found it 'inappropriate' for a girl of age 14-18 to be alone at our home with Ben. (I cannot see the issue, but the scrupulous can, apparently).

That leaves adults that might be able to care for Ben. Many people when asked find that they just don't think that they are the best fit for doing this---and truthfully, I personally don't think *I* am a good fit for being Ben's mom, but that is the reality of what I have to deal with.  So, me along with everyone else pretty much disqualifies the entire population of the United States from undertaking this task.

I understand the awkwardness and had I not had Ben as my son, I would be no different. In fact, I would probably have been worse... but it's back to 'where do any of these kids belong?'. If everyone is uncomfortable dealing with my young adult son, then here he is again, excluded because he doesn't fit people's category of the sort of person they are comfortable being around. (And yet, I would say that 40% of us [myself included], perhaps more than 40%, think that it is wrong to abort babies with Down's. If we believe it is wrong, we also have to stick our money where our mouths are and help make society a place where these persons are welcome to live and be. And knowing that these individuals are going to need a lot of care and support [which is why another 40% think it's easier to abort them] we need to be willing to bring about that support or care in some fashion, or these persons with Down's really are not truly welcome or wanted in our society.)

All that song and dance above to illustrate that finding the occasional care giver is hard, but that is not to say that I don't ultimately find people and somehow work out every stressed oh-my-gosh-what-am-I-going-to-do-with-Ben-that-day situation in the long run. All I am pointing out is that had Ben been 3 or 8 and a normal child, it would have been a lot easier to procure care for him at those odd times when I must be elsewhere.

And now for a cute story. My 20 year old daughter, last year, was trying to make an appointment with a professor at CU Boulder to go over some class material. He offered a certain time and she said that she couldn't because she had to be home to get her younger brother off the school bus, something she did for me in the fall of 2013 on Wednesdays. "How old is your brother?" asked the puzzled professor. "17", answered Kirsten with a smirk, and waited a while to see the stupor on his face. With time, she explained that her brother has Down's, and the professor's face lit up in understanding

But back to care issues ... Online at places like care.com (which I have had to resort to), the going price for special needs is $15-$20 per hour, but even there, it is hard to get last minute one time sitters (to say nothing of the dread of leaving your child or young adult disabled person with someone you never set eyes on before... but I have done that in the past.)

For parents or guardians of persons with special needs, I think the prospect of never getting beyond the caretaking obligations can seem daunting at times. Burn out can be very real. After all, if you have little children to care for, they grow up and won't always need the care. Same thing for elderly. They will need your care for a season and then they may choose a higher skilled facility, or (hard as it sounds) they will not outlive you (most likely) so at some point, one way or the other that obligation will be over.

Not so when you have an adult with special needs to take care of. If a friend asks you to go to a concert, or if a group of friends are getting together to do such and such and wouldn't you like to come?? --- You likely can only come if your special needs young adult can come with you. Your friends get to know that and most of them don't ask you to these sorts of things any more because eventually they know there is no way you can ever go.

But forget my last paragraph. The idea of going somewhere for fun or recreation is dream land --- the thought that you could have a life beyond being home with the special needs young adult and work is not realistic. My hobbies are books, plants, writing, knitting --- all things developed especially so I can do them at home, and do them with Ben or with Ben near.

What I aspire to in life is  not a social life. My aspirations are limited to hoping that some day when special work occasions crop up--ones where I have to be there --that there is an ARMY of people out there saying "you can always call me, if you're in a pinch with junior, I'd be happy to take him for an afternoon or an evening or a morning."

Finding .... no, not Nemo, but ... Ben

Where's cross-out-Waldo-and-Insert Ben is the subtitle of this blog, I suppose. It is a game, but it's harder than the Waldo game because I rarely remember what he is wearing. Waldo usually has that same hat and those same colors on.

One of the most interesting aspects of dealing with almost non-verbal persons with special needs is an acute lack of communication.

DUH, you say, I am sure. And DUH is right.

If I had a dime for every time I have run around frantically looking for Ben .... :)

Let's see the most intense time ever was when Ben was somewhere around 7 - 9 years of age, we were staying late after church to set up for a special event, and Ben was nowhere to be found. Nowhere. We enlisted every person who was still at church, about 30 persons or so, men, women, and children. We looked in the parking lot. We looked down the road in the old barn. We looked in the temple, in the parish hall, in all the restrooms, and in the Sunday School rooms. We made double circles around the entire building. No Ben. I was just short of calling the police in case of kidnapping or in case, Ben was walking down the very busy highway just outside the church. A dear friend grabbed my hand and said, "It's high time we prayed." And so she and I walked into the temple, kneeled down, prayed, and didn't get more than 3 minutes into the prayer when a bunch of children burst into the temple. "We've found Ben!"

Where was he? Where had he been?

Well, in order to find Ben, you have to think like Ben. You see, he loved Mrs. L. And he had wanted to go home with Mrs. L and play at her house, something he had done in the past. Mrs. L. had not locked her car. And what better way to make it clear that he wanted to go home with Mrs. L than to sit in her car and let her know when she and her kids would get ready to go home. Well, Ben did not know that we were staying late at church to set up for a special dinner, so while sitting in Mrs. L's minivan, he had gotten tired, laid down on the back seat and fallen asleep. --- and now you know the rest of the story.

On a similar note, just a couple of years ago, we had gone to church to a concert, rather than for a service. I helped in the kitchen with some desserts we were setting out for the singers after the concert. Just as the singing was about to begin, I could not find Ben. I spent half the concert looking for Ben in the church buillding, then I decided to go outside. I prayed hard as I circled the building, and then I caught a glimpse through one of the windows at the back of the altar where someone was moving. There should be noone behind the altar at this time, so the answer to my riddle was solved. Ben was back there, fully robed as an altar boy, waiting for the service to start.

I won't continue with the details. Ben has come home with the police after wandering out of our house, I have lost him in stores, in parks, school has lost him. He is never far, and to find him, you have to think like Ben.

In a like manner, when things disappear from this household, one is tempted (one, meaning all the rest of us) to think that Ben has taken it. It's a difficult situation to be in because some times it is true, but often it is not true. A few weeks ago, I could not find my daughter's cell phone. I was supposed to mail it to Greece for her. I did not accuse Ben out loud, I just had a sneaking suspicion in my mind. I combed through his room, but alas, I was wrong. I found the phone. Ben had nothing to do with it.

Not so with the time my new iPad was lost. I really could not find it, until school called and told me Ben had brought an iPad to school, did I really want him to do that?

Then there was that one afternoon when Ben told me he wanted a hot lunch for Friday's school lunch. We do hot lunches sometimes, but for the most part we don't. I told him no. We pack our lunches. Well, apparently he decided he was going to have a hot lunch, and he knew where I kept money, and he took what he thought was $3, so he could buy a hot lunch at school. -- Only, it turned out to be $300, not $3.

Last week, he tried to wear his 23 year old brother's leather jacket to school.

Ben is not a thief, or at least I do not see him as such. He has (and I wish they would change the way they have money open in a basket) taken money from the candle basket at church (where people put coins and take a candle to light).

OK, I know that is not a good thing, but Ben has no clue. He looks at a basket with money, and he has learned that the green stuff can buy you a hamburger or a new shirt or a game. Every week that basket just sits there with green stuff. Why doesn't anyone do anything with it?  And so at one point, he took some. His pockets were full. He was asked to return it, and he was somewhat landed on, and as far as I know, he emphatically (though not logically) understands that he may not take that money. (Ditto for my money at home. I sent a strong emphatic message that he may not take my money...but I also moved my petty cash to a new location and I keep less of it at home).

Telling mom or anyone where he is going is an issue. Asking before taking is another issue.

In both cases communication is minimal. For one thing, if he declares, as he has in the past, that he is going to so-and-so's house because that is where he wants to go, what does that get him? Not much, most of the time, since most of the time his wishes do not coordinate with everyone's schedules, and so what he wants does not happen, so what's easier than just trying to do it on your own?

Ditto for stuff. He has asked and he can ask, and I do try hard to honor his wishes, but at times the answer is no. When the answer is no, there are a million reasons why Ben would want to argue with me about the issue, but he has not the verbal command to do so, not even close. The most he can do is get in a yes-no-yes-no-yes-no battle, and that does not work with any person who is in authority over him. So... what is easier than just taking what you want on your own. Most of the time it probably works, and when it doesn't, you learn something new

Finding Nemo... finding Ben... finding stuff  that may or may not be there, which may or may not be Ben's fault.  The worst is accusing someone of having taken something and finding that the 'someone' did not take it... you misplaced it all by yourself. I have raised 4 kids, and I HATE accusing when I am not sure, so generally I don't. Perhaps that results in Ben getting away with stuff. I am not sure.

Again, I would say, Ben is not a thief. He would give you his shirt off his back, if you asked. He would give you his last piece of candy, even if it meant that he didn't get any himself. He does like to collect stuff, but not hoard it. He is very generous, perhaps so generous that he assumes that other people hold as loosely to their stuff as he holds his own stuff. So it's no big deal to him... stuff isn't.

Special Needs and Church -- the Other Side

Last time I talked about special needs and persons in the church.

You may have noticed that I discussed how a few persons know how a kid with special needs OUGHT to behave (a few boxes he needs to fit into) and you may have noticed my inconsistency in discussing this in that I basically asserted a few things where I felt that people in the church 'ought to know' how to respond to the kid with special needs.

And of course they don't. We get our experience from persons with special needs by being around them. I did not know how to insert a naso-gastric tube into Ben's nose and down into the stomach until I had Ben. I had no idea what a G tube, a J tube, or a GJ tube was. I didn't know what gastric reflux could do to his lungs, I had never seen a pulse oximeter, nor did I know the difference between an ICU or an NICU, what was involved in recovering from open heart surgery, or which sounds are harder to hear for a person who is hearing impaired.

If told that someone had an IQ of 45, I did not know whether the person could talk, walk, or even sit up. ... etc.

I mentioned in a previous blog that a couple of my family members encountered a small group of developmentally disabled adults at a museum somewhere abroad and that my two family members felt awkward and ill at ease because they had no idea how to relate to this loud group of drooling, spastic, unusual looking persons, and I agree. When we don't know these special needs kids or adults as persons, all we can see is the grotesque... like the malformation of a skull or a face. In Ben's case the crooked nose, the disformed lip, the 'retarded' look, the head always at a title to the left, his talking to himself (vehemently!!)... and that 'facade' of differentness can be, not only intimidating, but down right scary. What COULD he do, to me, to my little child, to anyone? If I (as a stranger) try to engage him in conversation,  what will happen.. besides, what will we talk about? And then when I (again as a stranger) DO engage him in conversation and find that I only understand about 3 out of every 25 syllables he strings together, how do I end the conversation? or do I? Or worse, if when I try to talk to him, he gets into one of his monologues and vehemently goes on and on and on, and I don't know if I made him mad or if he is happy. I certainly don't know what he is saying and I feel awkward both staying and listening as well as leaving... :(. It's not easy, and social situations where we don't feel at ease are situations that we prefer not getting ourselves into any longer than we absolutely must. I .e. a large number of people simply ignore Ben  because they don't know how to engage him meaningfully. They may or may not have tried, but it is definitely outside their comfort zone to do so--- that includes people who engaged him when he was little and cute, but who at this point simply do not know how.

The issue lies with 'meaningfully'. What is a meaningful conversation/engagement with another person at a large social gathering? What does it consist of? What qualities would we ascribe to it so that we can agree that it was
1. peaceful
2. mutual
3. enjoyable
4. and perhaps even inspiring.

Ben gets very agitated in conversation as he monologues (which is mostly what he does. He does not really know how to take turns in conversations, and it is hard for YOU to take turns with him because often you do not have a clue what he is talking about).... so encounters with him are not 'peaceful'. He may even look angry to you and you fear you have upset him.

I have already covered mutual. He does not know how to take turns (unless you are playing a board game with him, which is probably the most meaningful thing you CAN do with him), so it's not mutual.

Enjoyable and inspiring? Probably not unless you enjoy a challenge, or unless you can see how unique he is, learn from his uniqueness and perhaps even just sit in companionable silence with him. Some people are good at that, most of us are not.

Long term, I think most people give Ben a hug or a high five. They were glad to see him in church, and they move on, they did their 5 seconds for Ben today and all is well. And I am grateful for that acceptance and for his brief encounters with people who acknowledge his existence and who take the time to greet him. That is important. -- Is it enough? Well, for Ben, probably not, but that is where he has family who will give him a bit more time of day than most people out there.

Ben has a few people he gravitates to who know how to interact with him and perhaps that is no different than the rest of us. We all have a select few really good friends, and most of the rest are acquaintances, whom we pass, and occasionally we talk more but most of the time it's hi, and then we move on.

Special Needs and Church

This is a difficult post to write because there are so many aspects to special needs and also so many aspects to church.

Let me start with the beginning. We went to a very supportive church in Kalamazoo, Michigan which went above and beyond the first few years while Ben was in and out of the hospital. So many people took our three older kids in (kids ages 2,4, and 7 at first) ...for the day... overnight... etc.

Ben got well enough, around age 3 or 4, to actually come to church when it was not flu season, and he was in the toddler nursery and they loved him there.

When we moved to Colorado Ben was 7, and the church we ended up in was/is liturgical, which was an excellent fit for Ben. The routine of the liturgy is amazingly soothing for him. The sermon/homily is not as long, so he sits through that just fine, and all the bells and whistles (incense, icons, prostrations) -- worshipping with all 5 senses-- works really well for him too. He can be part of so much of it, and he likes it. Ben also is an altar boy now, has been since 2009, and he does very well at it, and likes working behind the altar, carrying candles, helping with communion, handing out blessed bread. It is all a great fit, and I am grateful for a church that does not require his intellectual articulation of his faith in order for him to be baptized or have communion.

Fellowship and him being within the church was also easy when he was little and cute. He was there, playing with whatever group of kids were of his age and mentality, and it worked. I did mention, previously in this blog, that kids have grown up past him and that he has gone through many mini-generations of friends at church, but at least he had friends.

I believe our church really wants to love and include Ben. The biggest problem is that nobody (including me) really knows what that looks like.

As Ben has grown older and looks older (he has to shave now, about once a month or so) he is not so cute in the eyes of people, and for those at church who did not 'grow up' with him over the past 10 years that we have been there, they are not so sure about him --- not on the playground with 'littler' kids, and not in general as to his responses, or lack of responses, nor just with his trying to fit in and hang out.

It's not just church, it's just the world in general, but I find it most painful to deal with at church, perhaps because one has high expectations of the Body of Christ, and so one thinks that people 'ought' to understand or have some enlightened sense of compassion for Ben, which most of the time people don't. They have their own little worlds and they operate in those worlds, and when Ben is in the way or seems not to fit, they mark their boundaries-- most of the time to the exclusion of Ben.

I think society explains Down Syndrome as basically a mental delay, so that Ben is understood to be mentally about 5-8 years of age, with 5-8 year old emotions, and so the impression most people have is that he can be treated like he is 5-8, he can be expected to obey, share, etc... and I have mentioned all that before.

For Ben (and I cannot speak for other teens with Down's) that does not really work. He is 17, not 5. He has more complex emotions than a 5 year old and he understands the rules and knows the behavior expected of him better than a 5 year old. What he has is a mental processing deficit that doesn't make connections that sometimes even 5 year olds would make.

In addition he has a huge disadvantage in that when he gets in conflict with a person, he cannot verbalize his position, his emotions, or his anger because his expressive language skills -- due to cleft lip and palate, due to a moderate hearing impairment, and due to Down Syndrome -- are about at a two year old level.

As a result, when he is in a situation of conflict (like someone telling him he is too old to play on the playground, though he knows he has a special permission to be exempt from the playground rule) he will resist because he knows he is right, but he cannot say why, and usually he will lose because the person who is telling him  ______________(to leave, or to return an item that is thought not to be his, or otherwise to comply with a request) wins the verbal combat. He then gets upset, and he has hit people in frustration, though most of the time he just runs and hides somewhere in a corner where nobody can see him.

I understand the frustration of an adult who is trying to keep order somewhere, who doesn't know how to relate to a kid with special needs, that is hard. What I do not understand is escalating a situation with such a kid when the kid is not really doing anything that is immediately harmful or threatening to anyone. (Of course if there is immediate risk or harm, intervene at all costs).

With a kid with special needs... when in doubt, show mercy. (I would almost use that as a guideline for dealing with all kids, but  CERTAINLY, I would use that for kids with special needs.) Why would I want to risk upsetting a child whose emotional apparatus I do not comprehend? In that case, why not call the parent and get a little help on the issue, rather than risk a situation you don't know how to manage on your own... or risk a relationship with a kid you don't know well enough to really engage with to start with.

That would be my biggest frustration with church --- the number of people who are willing to engage in unpleasantries with a kid with special needs, merely in order to enforce a rule or uphold what they find to be a 'higher principle' -- and who do not think of the emotional consequences for the kid.

I think that is worse in church than it is 'on the street', simply because church so often becomes this high-minded quest for all the correct principles, for the perfect ideology, and once that ideology has been fleshed out in detail, all one has to do is follow it --- and to 'hell' (pardon my French) with persons.

Persons with special needs do not fit all these neat boxes we can set up for what kids (or for that matter) people) OUGHT TO DO: For every box you have, be it an age box, a noise limitation box, a no-squirming in the pew box, a MUST STAND at certain times box, a don't take too much food box, a don't hog the swing box, and worst of all, the no hitting box... all these things that we OUGHT to be able to do, the kid with special needs and even the adult with special needs will not always be able to fold up and crawl into the box.  And when he fails to fit in the box, the social cost to him is high as there is great disapproval from the majority of people, and with that disapproval comes the sense that ' this is a simple box to get into, even HE ought to be able to do this .'

And then there is the parent -- and that is me.  The parent does not always take it well when you decide to take on her child---especially not when he was doing no harm. Mom's attitude is that any time he is not harming something or someone, and if he is otherwise having a good time, -- pardon me, but 'screw the rules!!'.

 Momma Bear comes out.at you--especially if her kid ran off and hid after you decided to escalate an encounter with him.

Remember ... and I just read this in a book called Special Needs and the Church.... remember Mom spends all her time fighting the school system, the social services, the right for junior to participate in all sorts of age segregated stuff, so when she finds junior thwarted at Church, she goes on auto-pilot and brings out all her fighting skills that she uses for him in the rest of the world. Yes, she OUGHT to do better in church. Yes, she ought to be patient and kind and understanding... but she too is exhausted, tired of the same old same old ever fighting for her child's rights to live and breathe around other human beings, tired of always being on 24/7 call because unless she is near junior most of the time, something will happen, and someone will think junior ought to be able to do something he cannot do, and as a result, she will WISH she had been there and not taken that ten minutes to herself to chat with a friend while junior ran off.

No, it's not usually that bad all the time, but these things come in seasons, and they come with certain personality types who for one reason or another think that mom isn't doing enough to keep junior reeled in. You know it with typical kids as well. There are always people who think you don't do what you ought with your kids. Multiply that by 10 when it comes to a developmentally disabled kid who might slug another person (yes, I agree it's unacceptable, but it happens) or who might accidentally expose him or herself because his social skills and sense of where to scratch what is not particularly heightened.

Mercy !! And I will end with this diagram (Carolyn Vance's) .Text is from Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice.

Frequently Heard at Our House

Put down that cat
Why?
NO, you can't drool on the cat.
Why?
No, you may NOT spit on the floor either.
Why?
Ben, I told you, to put down that cat.
Why?
He doesn't like being carried all the time.
Why?

Ben, where are your hearing aids?

What?
Where are your hearing aids?
What?

WHERE ARE YOUR HEARING AIDS?

In my pack-pack!

Are you wearing your hearing aids?

Almost.

Did you feed the kitties?
Almost.

Are you coming?

Almost.

Ben, that is MY ...

....underwear

....money

....phone

....pen

....ipod

....toothbrush

                       ... and you can't have it.

No, you can't wear [select item of clothing]. It is [select in-congruent weather condition] outside.

That's enough _____(Fill in the blank: Syrup, Apple Sauce, ketchup, Ranch dressing, butter, sugar, pencil sharpening, shampoo, toothpaste, spending time in the bathroom, water in the tub, layers of clothing, paper usage, ... holding the cat.)

Mom, how was your day?

Fine.

Whadya do?

I went to work.

And then what?

And I taught math.

And then what? 

And then I taught a physics class.

And then what?

And then I showed my TAs how to do the lab

And then what?

[Insert 86 more 'and then what's' with their appropriate responses.]

Put down that cat
Why?
He doesn't want to be held any more.
Why?
Look, he is mewing and squirming.
Why?
Ben, just put down that cat.

OW!!!!!!! 

Mom, you OK?

Yup!

You happy?

Yup!

It's a nice day?

Yup!

I love you!

I love you too.

Of Sandals and of Jam

A -- perhaps not typical, but certainly not untypical -- Sunday morning of late, Ben and I prepared to leave for church, got in the car and managed to return to the house not once, not twice, but thrice.

On first look, you see, I noticed that my dear lad was wearing sandals, and the month being February, and the ground covered with snow, we made the trip up three flights of stairs to make the necessary changes in footwear.

"Ben," I said, in an attempt to seize the pedagogical moment. "When do we wear sandals?"
"We don't," he scowled back at me, having learned a stern lesson upstairs while unbuckling his sandals. "We wear boots."
"Yes," I insisted. "We wear boots right now, but what time of year do we wear sandals?"
"We don't," he insisted. "We wear boots."

"OK," I continued cleverly. "So, tell me: what do we wear in the summer?"

"Sandals!" he smiled.
"And what month is it now?"
"February!" Another triumphant smile.
"What time of year is February?"
"Sunday. Sunday the 9th."
"Yes, that is true," I responded, still thinking myself clever enough to drive the point home. "And what is the weather right now?" I looked up at the clear blue sky, sun shining, and realized the folly of my interrogation.
"Sunny!" he answered triumphantly. "It's summer!"

I started the car when my keenly observant eyes fell on his mid-section which featured a light knit hoodie. Back up the aforementioned 3 flights we went, and returned to the car with a nice thick parka as well as gloves (conveniently stored in his roomy pockets) to protect his innards.

My astute genius then proceeded to inspect the last 12 inches of my son's existence (having cleverly started at the bottom and worked my way up in a systematic and coordinated manner, like a good scientist. ) That region to my consternation was coated with a thin layer of raspberry jam combined with a brown clumpy substance (the precise identification of which I decided not to pursue).

Yes, one more trip up three flights of stairs, a vigorous face scrubbing, and we were succesfully on our way to church, only fifteen minutes late.