Re: We are the experts on our children...behaviors have meaning...

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Thank you, I really needed this message tonight. Instead of stiffling my sons false laughter because I am anoid trying to make dinner, etc. (which I know to be a sign he is not in his comfort zone) I will just hug him, and comfort him. MOMs do know best from the heart & the brain. After an allergist appt. today, I feel like saying, "It I have time in my life for another curve ball..go see another 'professional'.Shane <SMD@...> wrote: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/susan-senator/a-mother-knows-best-livi_b_33936.html Senator Bio 11.12.2006 A Mother Knows Best: Living with Autism (2 comments) READ MORE: Supreme Court Unlike the Winkelmans, the Ohio family that will appear soon before the Supreme Court, I have not yet had to sue my school system over my severely autistic son's

education. The Winkelman case is an interesting twist on guilty until proven innocent - or, incompetent until proven able -- and the family will have to prove to the Court & lt;script language="JavaScript" src="http://ad.doubleclick.net/adj/huffingtonpost/feature/fearless;nickname=susan-senator;entry_id=33936;supreme-court=1;ptile=2;sz=300x250;abr=!ie;ord='+ ord +'?" type="text/javascript" & gt; & lt;/script & gt;that they are capable of legally representing their son. I am an autism parent, so I already know the answer to this question, even though I have not had cause to fight my district for services. I live in a town which has been willing, over the years, to send my son to different private school programs specializing in autism. I was lucky but I did not feel lucky. For years I struggled with Nat's reluctance to speak, his aggressive behavior, and my inability to understand and connect with my son. We have

frequently turned to teachers and therapists for answers. Nat's school follows a behavioral model, which uses positive reinforcement and also redirection of energy and attention as a way of encouraging appropriate behavior. This approach ultimately helped him get his behaviors under control. But the day when everything changed had nothing to do with pedagogical theory or professional training. Nat was thirteen, and along with occasional flare-ups of pinching and hitting, he had developed a particularly grating behavior: loud, fake laughing. I grew to hate the sound of my son's giggles, and was particularly annoyed by the irony of his middle name: Isaac, which in Hebrew means, "He will laugh." Nat's teachers urged me to redirect his inappropriate laughter by having him file cards alphabetically every time he did it as a way of channeling his laughing behavior into something quiet and fairly productive. Although the card filing worked - it seemed to

stop Nat's laughter cold while he shuffled his cards into order - it made me sad. I realized that what I really wanted was to be able to teach Nat about things that are funny and good, and things that are not; I didn't want simply to block him. But how do you teach something as complex as good laughter, bad laughter? One evening I was particularly exhausted when the laughing started. I sank into the couch next to Nat and I did not bother reaching for the filing cards. I felt worn down by his efforts to bug me and all I could feel were tired tears forming, and a heavy vulnerability. I looked over at Nat and studied his wide grin, sparkling with silver braces. My heart softened a little, as it does whenever I take a moment and let myself really look at my children's faces. I said, "What is it, Natty? What is so funny?" I poked him and he flinched, but he was smiling. I started tickling him, giving myself over to our giddy play. He wiggled around and

laughed, but now we were both laughing. After a few moments, he stopped laughing and he just looked at me, then away. He was calm. There are so few moments in parenting when you really know something. But just then, I knew, irrevocably, that Nat had been trying to connect with me with that ridiculous laughing, and that he needed me just as much as I needed him. It changed me forever, how I felt about Nat, and how I dealt with him. It changed us both. With autism in my life, I have learned to be an expert on my son. Most parents are experts on their kids, but autism parents have to learn how to recognize and analyze some pretty intense problems, and respond competently. After so many years of living with autism, I can say that I have had some pretty rigorous training in problem-solving, by experts and school professionals. However, some of my best responses have come strictly from the heart, simply because as his mother, I yearn for things to be

good between us. I think most parents would agree that the best way to reach a child, autistic or not, is finding just the right mixture of heart and brain. We need the professionals, but we also need to trust our gut. Because of what I know about autism parenting, I would be willing to bet money that if the Winkelmans have come this far, all the way to the Supreme Court, and with autism in their lives, they are more than adequately capable of representing their son without a legal expert. In fact, I'd be willing to bet a whole pile of very valuable filing cards. Shane M.D. "Light travels faster than sound, this is why some people appear bright until you hear them speak..." Yesterday is history, tomorrow a mystery, today is a gift hence it is called the

present. *None of us is as smart as all of us* Check out some of my work at: http://photos./smdscott141

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