this week, there was a day when i met with the various educationalists that take charge of my children for significant parts of their weeks, to discuss their respective progress. these meetings were back to back, and, between them, lasted about an hour and a half. that in itself is a marvel.
after both meetings, and the various debriefings to interested parties, i sat down with my green tea (oh yes, 2009 has seen some changes..) to write down and consider the findings. it seems that the child that is supposed to be the worry, the child with the diagnosis pending further diagnosis, is not in any way a worry. now that we have a diagnosis, pending further diagnosis, his differences are invoking real understanding, and, further, real respect. it's okay when he doesn't want to participate with the group. it's okay that he hasn't learned to recognise his name. it's okay that he needs coaching through the most fundamental of manual tasks. it's okay that his field of interest is so very limited and intensive. and, do y'know what? it's kind of awesome. rudy has other things to give- his laid back attitude and his generous, engaging, caring interpretation of his surroundings charms every single adult he comes into contact with. he might not say much, but what he does say is inspirational. his spirit is going to see him through.
after both meetings, and the various debriefings to interested parties, i sat down with my green tea (oh yes, 2009 has seen some changes..) to write down and consider the findings. it seems that the child that is supposed to be the worry, the child with the diagnosis pending further diagnosis, is not in any way a worry. now that we have a diagnosis, pending further diagnosis, his differences are invoking real understanding, and, further, real respect. it's okay when he doesn't want to participate with the group. it's okay that he hasn't learned to recognise his name. it's okay that he needs coaching through the most fundamental of manual tasks. it's okay that his field of interest is so very limited and intensive. and, do y'know what? it's kind of awesome. rudy has other things to give- his laid back attitude and his generous, engaging, caring interpretation of his surroundings charms every single adult he comes into contact with. he might not say much, but what he does say is inspirational. his spirit is going to see him through.
my daughter is doing equally well. in fact, she has really blossomed since leaving the institution currently taking such respectful care of my son and moving to her new school. this incredibly funny little girl, who saw things at an early age that could easily have scarred her irrevokebly and was apparently so maladjusted, tested consistently above average and her creativity, quiet confidence and senses of humour and justice are gently carving out a unique yet intense popularity for her, even with children a lot older than herself, that i don't recognise, i have no frame of reference for. my little girl with her bob and her crazy drawings and her WW2 evacuee sense of style ... my little girl, currently sitting upstairs at her crafting station in her bridesmaid dress singing along at the top of her voice to her carole king cd, is rocking everyone's world.
maybe because i knew their father for such a short time and they came into my life as fast and subtle as a juggernaut, my children constantly take me by surprise, and yet they feel like pieces snapped from my own bones. they are magical and yet utterly familiar... is it always this way? whenever i think of my excellent, beautiful, odd children and the respect they encounter, and then i contrast how life was for me at that age i think, with gratitude, relief and excitement, of progress. thinking about this over the last couple of days put me in mind of a douglas coupland quote,"the geek shall inherit the earth". i've been thinking about two books of his (although i love most of them and girlfriend in a coma is the nearest thing i have to a religious text). specifically, j-pod, in which the typically autistic traits of a close number of game writers are explored somewhat and in a very passive, non-sensationalist and humourous manner, and microserfs.
microserfs was the defining text of my late adolescence. god only knows why- i harboured a deep distrust of computers whilst i championed craft. this did not do me any favours academically, really (and i went to art school), it was probably a kneejerk defensive response to my then quite unorthodox and outdated interests, and of course i was covering up for the fact that i couldn't afford a computer. but i must have read that book cover to cover a hundred times. more. i would read the last page and go straight back to the first... these were my people. for the first time i was encountering people who thought and felt like me. it was like falling in love for the first time. i accidentally left my dogeared copy on the bus when i moved down to the capital to work in fashion. my mum- who knew me well enough to buy it for me in the first place- said it was the end of an era.
i miss microserfs. i don't actually remember much of it, except that the main character's lives are transformed by a visionary, high functioning autistic person; i'm going to have to revisit it. it's as important, to me, as orwell.
"i think that every reader on earth has a list of cherished books as unique as their fingerprints... i think that, as you age, you tend to gravitate towards the classics, but those aren't the books that give you the same sort of hope for the world that a cherished book does."- Douglas Coupland.
.
maybe because i knew their father for such a short time and they came into my life as fast and subtle as a juggernaut, my children constantly take me by surprise, and yet they feel like pieces snapped from my own bones. they are magical and yet utterly familiar... is it always this way? whenever i think of my excellent, beautiful, odd children and the respect they encounter, and then i contrast how life was for me at that age i think, with gratitude, relief and excitement, of progress. thinking about this over the last couple of days put me in mind of a douglas coupland quote,"the geek shall inherit the earth". i've been thinking about two books of his (although i love most of them and girlfriend in a coma is the nearest thing i have to a religious text). specifically, j-pod, in which the typically autistic traits of a close number of game writers are explored somewhat and in a very passive, non-sensationalist and humourous manner, and microserfs.
microserfs was the defining text of my late adolescence. god only knows why- i harboured a deep distrust of computers whilst i championed craft. this did not do me any favours academically, really (and i went to art school), it was probably a kneejerk defensive response to my then quite unorthodox and outdated interests, and of course i was covering up for the fact that i couldn't afford a computer. but i must have read that book cover to cover a hundred times. more. i would read the last page and go straight back to the first... these were my people. for the first time i was encountering people who thought and felt like me. it was like falling in love for the first time. i accidentally left my dogeared copy on the bus when i moved down to the capital to work in fashion. my mum- who knew me well enough to buy it for me in the first place- said it was the end of an era.
i miss microserfs. i don't actually remember much of it, except that the main character's lives are transformed by a visionary, high functioning autistic person; i'm going to have to revisit it. it's as important, to me, as orwell.
"i think that every reader on earth has a list of cherished books as unique as their fingerprints... i think that, as you age, you tend to gravitate towards the classics, but those aren't the books that give you the same sort of hope for the world that a cherished book does."- Douglas Coupland.
.
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