JiJi Funk

We use a great visual math program from the MIND Institute
(neuroscience department) at UC Davis called ST Math.  ST stands for
Spatial-Temporal.  About two months after we started homeschooling, it
became available for our use.  Before that, it had been offered only to
schools and school districts.  So far, it has proven to be a
well-designed program and Liam is able to move through grade-level math
at an accelerated pace, most of the time.  The only problem we've found
is that the final quizzes are presented in a standard test format, while
the rest of the course has visual supports.  Sometimes Liam fails to
recognize the same problems, when presented in multiple choice format. 
Allowing for this, we can spend extra time working with concepts (like
long division) in a different format, to be sure he is understanding the
procedure in all contexts.

Liam working on an ST Math level

Another positive of the program is that Liam enjoys doing it.   Each day, he logs onto his iPad
for a series of visual puzzles.  A google-eyed penguin, named JiJi, must
walk across the screen.  JiJi can only cross if the puzzle is solved
correctly.  If Liam makes a mistake, a portion of the puzzle drops down
into JiJi's path and he is blocked from crossing.  The "block" shows the
mistake and Liam can retry the puzzle up to two times before the level
re-sets.  When JiJi crosses, there is a "ding" and when he fails to
cross, there is a "bonk."  I can let Liam work independently, keeping an
ear on the ding-to-bonk ratio.  I only step in if I hear too many repeated bonks
in a row.

Each year, the ST Math team holds a music
video contest, challenging classrooms to make a video and show how we
use the program.  This was our first year entering the challenge.  I
started about a week ago, taking video footage of Liam doing ST Math. 
We needed a music track and so I chose a song I know he loves, "Uptown
Funk."  I re-wrote the lyrics to fit the Karaoke track and recorded Liam
singing it.  Liam's dad tweaked my final audio edit, to make it sound cool
and I filmed Liam dancing to the new track.  Finally, Liam and I spent a
few hours editing the final video.  I chose the order of the clips, but
Liam edited them all, added all of the effects and even designed the
font he used in iFont Creator.


I'm very proud of the
work we all did on this, but particularly of Liam, who took direction
like a pro (and worked with the speed of one).  He even pulled off some
effects I didn't know he knew how to do (like masking himself in a
photo-negative and leaving the rest natural).  At one point, because
we'd neglected to save, we lost about 25 minutes worth of work.  He
didn't get upset, and although it took a little prompting to continue,
he did and we finished it all in one setting.


Click on the bold words "JiJi Funk" at the top of the post to see the YouTube link to the final video.
I don't really care if he wins a
thing, the process of creating something this cool with my son and
husband, was prize enough for me.

Mad Skills

We're operating under the pretext that you will be forgiven a world of weirdness, as long as you can bring mad skills to the table in some way.  We're not big fans of making Liam appear "indistinguishable from his peers."  Not gonna happen.  And why should it?  Every adult on the spectrum who writes about the topic makes it clear what an emotional and physical toll is taken every day, when they have to "pass."  My son is naturally happy and relaxed and we want to help him stay that way.

Much of what we do is try to figure out just what Liam needs to be able to do to live in the world and contribute to his own welfare.  But the biggest question is, what passions drive my son to develop unique abilities - what are his mad skills?

I got to see a mad-skills test play out they other day, after choir.  The teacher always leaves a little time at the end of class for the kids to play on the organ for a few minutes, since they all want to give it a go.  Liam had just gotten up for his turn, when a few kids from the next class started to filter into the room.

One boy walked over to the organ and noticed Liam's ever-present, Oobie-eye rings.

"Does he ALWAYS wear those?" he asked, screwing up his nose a little.

Before I could answer, Liam launched into the Jurassic Park theme and the look on the little boy's face instantly snapped from judgmental to astonished.

"He's REALLY GOOD!"

Yes.  Yes he is.

All anyone really needs is a point of contact and otherness gives way to a growing understanding.  At least that's the theory.  Early results are promising. 

Sick Days

When we were kids, sick days were kind of like a little vacation.  If we were too sick to go to school, we could cozy up on the couch with a blanket and drift in and out of sleep while watching TV or reading a book.  It was an escape.

Well, for the past week we have all been sick enough to stay away from public places.  But since we are all home, all of the time, sick days are more like a prison sentence than a get away.

Sick days mean, no gym, no coffee with a friend, no outside classes at Urban Homeschool. Even though we've only been using Urban Homeschool for a few months,  I am suddenly, keenly aware of how valuable that out-of-the-house time has been to us -  OK - to ME.

Add to the stir-craziness, the grumpiness of alternately stuffed or drippy heads and wracking coughs and the end result is not pretty.  Lessons have been painfully tedious, with Liam spacing out and my patience shortened by lack-of-sleep. 

I've been envisioning us as a ship stuck in the doldrums, while the dehyadrated crew-mates chuck empty coconut shells at each other for amusement.

This morning we had a slight reprieve.  We took our time getting into the day.  Liam was feeling playful and borrowed one of my hats to do a comedy routine based on Agent-P from Phineas and Ferb.  I kept lesson times short and determined to take it easy.  The goal is to return Urban Homeschoolers tomorrow and take part in Geometry class and pick up Liam's new lenses at Rubio Optical.  But, if I miss that goal, the next one is to be well enough to enjoy the invitation to watch the Super Bowl at our friends' house on Sunday.

I'm trying to recall the flow-chart like mentality I had when Liam was an infant.

Did he have a nap?

Yes - use the time to workout with a DVD.
No - use the time to take a walk with the stroller (maybe he'll fall asleep) - did he fall asleep?
Yes - Walk to coffee shop, take out book and read.
No - Walk to coffee shop, buy coffee, keep walking - did he fall asleep?
Etc.

As in days of old, it's OK to have a goal (getting him to sleep), while letting go of the plan (he has to get to sleep at x time so I can do xyz, or else!).  The goal is to keep the learning going.  Maybe it happens in stages, or only as partial lessons, but it flows more easily if I let go of expectations.

I think I feel a soft wind starting to stir across our bow.  Time to put down that coconut and enjoy the breeze before we set off, full-sail again.

Upgrades

Following the traditional path meant constantly trying to maintain or stay on-par with the group, either the class, in school, or age-appropriate behavior as defined by ABA therapy.  By letting go of maintenance mode, we've been rewarded with unexpected upgrades.

Expressive speech - how someone puts a sentence together to make their thoughts known - is an ongoing challenge for Liam.  Give him a bunch of sentences to correct on paper, and he'll fly through them.  So he understands much about how language is constructed, can read aloud (decode) English at a very high level (last time he was tested, in 3rd grade, he decoded at about a 6th grade level), but he has trouble attaching meaning to what he's read or expressing more complex thoughts. 

Before we broke loose, much effort was spent on teaching him what he "could" say or "should" say in certain situations, which gave him "scripts" to use.  For six hours a day, he would be expected to adhere to the rules of expression in school, with an aide to help him navigate social situations.  After school, for 2-3 hours a day, he'd work with a therapist on other concepts, but always in a systematic way, which left him very prompt-dependent.  Both in school and at home, he would hang back and look to the therapist, teacher or us to prompt him towards a correct response.

It should be noted that Liam has always used scripting to some degree.  He learned to use snippets of books or lines from videos in situations to express himself, early on.  Lately, he's been watching videos of other kids and teens playing games and has been trying on some of their expressions, modifying them to fit his needs.  His latest favorite is "what the hell is happening here?"  He uses it appropriately, every time.  He's found a few more choice words as well, which gives us an opportunity to work on context.  Anyone who knows me knows that I swear, but I also know there are places where it's best to choose other words.  Working away from his natural, binary inclination (right or wrong/good or bad), will be an important step in his language development.

As far as original speech goes, Liam has become adept at making his needs and wishes known ("I want a bagel and veggie chips, please").  He can also give clear responses to direct questions (Question: "What are you making?" Answer: "Goomba Stomp on VideoPad.").  Questions about more subjective things like, "why are you crying?" or "why do you want to go to the mall?"  were usually met with an unknowing stare and a throwback of the question itself, "because I'm crying" or "because we are going to the mall."

In the past couple of months, though, there have been some subtle, but remarkable shifts.  This morning, Liam asked "Can I have my iPad, for a minute?"  "For a minute," may not seem like a big deal, but for Liam, using a conditional phrase was huge.  As was his realization last night that his dad's keyboard might need an upgrade.

"Hey, Dad, come in my room." (Dad went in his room and saw a keyboard demo on Liam's computer), "You should have this keyboard in your studio."  He had researched and found a newer version of the keyboard my husband uses in his music studio.

In the past, Liam was resistant to changing operating systems or hardware on his or anyone else's computers.  Things were what they were and should not be different. He actually freaked out when we upgraded his OS and we had to put it back!  Now, he's starting to explore the idea that, maybe, there's more in life (and computers) than what's in front of him and that change can be good.

I only hope he doesn't figure out how old his iMac is and ask for an upgrade on THAT anytime soon!

Put Your Money Where Your Mouth (or keyboard) Is

Today is MLK Jr. Day.  I had planned to do a little math then we all have a family errand to run.  I also thought we'd start out watching a video about MLK to touch base on the meaning of the day. 

The time came to invite Liam to the table to begin and I saw him halfway through animating a funny video, copying things he liked on YouTube and re-creating everything from scratch in VideoPad.  I was so blown away by how good the work was, that I realized I needed to let him finish it.  If I was knee-deep in a creative project, I would resent being yanked away to do math "right now, just because."  We can do it later.  Create now.  Unschooling is letting the kid follow his passions to learn and hone new skills.

So here it is.  The dialogue is odd, in part, because I think he mis-heard the original and didn't seem to feel any need to correct it.  There are dozens of elements here including voice-over and lip sync.  This is "PBS."  This is excellent.

What's New?

Just when I think we've hit a plateau, Liam surprises me with something new.

As he's growing and trying out new ideas, I have to learn to step back and really see what ignites his imagination - then offer more.  I'm finally accepting that unschooling is our primary mode of learning; letting Liam approach areas of interest fully and deeply and letting go of that for which he is not yet ready or in which he is not yet interested.  It requires a level of trust in my son's strengths - and a level of patience in me to wait and watch.
I signed Liam up for a video course on DIY.org in special effects.  He loves Zack King vines and has been trying to recreate portions of them.  Every day, the DIY instructor posts a new challenge.  One challenge was to create a video incorporating forced perspective.  I asked him for ideas, but he wasn't sure what I meant, so I showed him the instructor's example and set up a large cooking pot in the foreground and shot him emerging and being "pushed back in" with the lid.  Then I let him take over.  He shot a few rounds, then we edited the best take and he started playing with effects, graphics and sounds.  In the end, he created this fun, funky little clip that I think would make a cool "logo" for his own productions.

While we were working, he dove into elements of the program I didn't even know existed and created something far more original than what I had started.  I love how his mind flies through problems, once he gets the idea.  And he's starting to appreciate others' enjoyment of his work.

This week, after Choir at Urban Homeschoolers, Liam had time to play the piano.  He was noodling around and I asked him if he could play the Star Wars theme.  As soon as he did, all of the other kids stopped to listen and appreciate it.  I could see how pleased he was at the little bit of recognition.  It's taken time for him to seek out other people and really actively try to interact. Later, another kid jumped in on the piano too.  In the past, Liam would have tried to dominate and push him off or leave himself. Instead, I watched him listening to the other player and trying to jam.

By letting him follow his passion for music, I see that he's finding a commonality and desire to share.  If I insisted we only play piano at certain times, so that we could fit in some curricular activity, curated by an outside source, that impetus may have been lost.

Now it's up to me, to let go and let him do it.  I admit, I don't always manage to relax, but when I do, there is much more joy in the learning.  For both of us.

I'll leave you with what's new today - Liam's edit of a "whip-pan" shot.  We usually take turns shooting and performing the shot.  This time, he liked seeing himself on screen, so he kept it.  Enjoy!

Loss

My son's passions run deep and bring him enormous joy.  My husband has often remarked that we'd all be lucky to feel that much joy about ANYTHING in our lives.  Liam's loves range from our cat, Jake, to countdown videos (his own and others) and, lately, all LED signs and displays, everywhere. 

When we travel, and there's a choice of going the street route or the highway, Liam will beg to go on the highway, just for the chance to see a roadwork LED sign, or a CALTRANS sign with timing/driving information.  "How many minutes to Downtown?"  I'll hear from the back seat.  "Fifteen!"

Imagine the delight when he saw that several, temporary sign boards had been erected to direct traffic around road construction related to the new Harry Potter attraction (coming soon to our neighbor at Universal).  Liam and his dad started to take walks to the signs and make videos.  "Let's do SIGN ACTION!"  Liam would beg.  It was fun, quality Dad-time.  Sign Action usually involved dancing around the signs, climbing them (they were off road on the sidewalks) and even hugging them.  Liam tends to think of them as alive - always waving "hi" to them as we drive by.

Last night, they returned from another "SIGN ACTION" foray without the usual rosy glow. 

"How was SIGN ACTION?"

"There was a problem," my husband answered.

"The signs are missing.  The signs DIED!"  my son chimed in.

My husband described how they'd gone to visit the signs, and finding them missing, went in search of others - ending up at Rite Aide, where Liam has always enjoyed the scrolling displays on the lottery ticket machines.  Reportedly, Liam took this to mean, "Sign Action turned into Machine Action."

When they got back, Liam retreated to his room and I thought I heard him mumbling about the signs through the closed door, but when I checked in on him I found him playing a video and I figured he was OK with it.

Later that night, he wandered out of bed, red-eyed and teary, repeating the refrain "There's no more sign action.  The signs are gone.  The signs DIED.  Will they be back tomorrow?"

I could hear sobbing and low talking as John explained that the signs wouldn't be back - not there anyway.  I was listening to the sounds of grieving.  It was heart wrenching to hear him cry out for his lost joy for nearly an hour, with my husband staying by to console him.  I wandered in later and Liam was ready to change direction, making a joke and holding my hand.

I've been worried lately about how we'll handle the end of his elderly friend, Jake the cat, who is now suffering from early stages of kidney disease.  I hadn't expected his first real grief experience to be for an inanimate (if animated) object. 

Fortunately, I had a surprise for him.  I decided to give him his Christmas present early.  I'd bought him a scrolling, programmable LED name badge.  I couldn't replace the beautiful, huggable displays, but I could give him a display that he could make his own. 

I installed the programming software on John's laptop last night and charged the badge, then left it scrolling it's first message, "H E L L O  L I A M,"  on the dining room table. 

I was glad to have it ready, since the first words out of his mouth this morning were, "Sign Action is over. . ." 

"I have a surprise for you."

He's been sitting there for an hour, programming in phrases and trying to figure out how to hack in and input new fonts. 

I know that he is feeling real grief and that he may bring up the road signs again, but now he has a wearable reminder that there are many signs to enjoy in the world and life goes on. 

Liam playing with his new, programmable LED badge.

Singularity

Liam loves his new science class at Urban Homeschoolers.  In his Natural Science class last week, Mr. Guest took the class out onto the play-yard and recited the 100 letter word from Finnegans Wake that signaled the beginning of creation.  The students all crushed together into a singularity, exploded into a universe and collapsed back into a singularity by the end of the word.  Liam liked the word so much, I had Mr. Guest record it.  Later, Liam animated the expansion and contraction of the word-as-universe over Mr. Guest's recitation.

It took Liam only seconds to assemble the images and to animate them.  As he was saving the file, I saw dozens of recent creations listed - explorations of different effects and subjects, all with incredibly descriptive and creative titles.  Liam loves language and languages, but he samples them, like he samples images and recombines them - using them in unexpected ways.  The workings of a singular mind.

There is a lot of lip-service paid to the idea of "thinking outside the box," while at the same time trying to get the very minds that are wired to do that, to conform to a predictable "box."  By allowing Liam to follow his passions, however different they may be from the box that we know,  his mind is exploding with ideas.

I recently saw a comparison between the structure of the human brain to the structure of the known universe.  Beautifully similar, aren't they?  Both are complex and can only be grasped by readjusting your expectations of what's possible.  We may never understand it fully, but we'll see far more by widening our lens and letting in more light than by a narrow focus on the expected.

Every day, Liam's singular mind explodes anew.  Or, in the "word" of James Joyce, "Bababadalgharaghtakamminarronnkonnbronntonnerronntuonnthunntrovarrhounawnskawntoohoohoordenenthurnuk!"

This image and an interesting article about studies showing how the universe functions like a brain can be found here: http://themindunleashed.org/2013/07/physicists-find-evidence-that-universe.html

Therein Lies the Truth

Liam waiting outside of his art class, Pastimes for a Lifetime

"Hey, have you noticed that Liam has started to lie?" I asked my husband as we waited for Liam to make one more "escape" from his room after bedtime.

"Yeah."

"Isn't it great?"

"Yes!"

Parents of neurotypical children don't often get excited when they catch their kids lying.  But parents of autistic kids know what a huge cognitive leap it is.  Lying is not literal statement of fact - it is a deliberate manipulation of another person, and although we teach most kids that it's "bad to lie," the TRUTH behind lies is that it's a necessary social skill.

As we grow up, we learn how to lie to protect ourselves and sometimes, in the case of "white lies" to protect the feelings of others.  Is there anyone who hasn't said that the overcooked, flavorless pork chops were "just fine" to protect the feelings of the host?  And then there's the famous, "do these pants make my butt look big?"  Please, lie to me about that one - ALWAYS.

Autistic kids, especially kids who have had extensive ABA therapy, have sometimes learned compliance to a dangerous degree - putting their own desires, and even safety aside in order to comply.  Although it can be a pain to have to argue about putting on socks, shutting down the computer or doing another level of math, it is a relief that, after a year off from ABA and the compliance-heavy school environment, Liam has found his voice and even posits logical arguments.

The other day, I accidentally gave him three gummy bear vitamins instead of two (they're sticky little buggers).  He noticed immediately.  I told him that it was OK that he had three that day, but that he's only supposed to have two, or he might get sick.  "I got three and am not sick," he replied.

For some parents, that would be "backtalk."  For me, it was watching a synapse fire.  Inside, I was doing a happy dance.

Another important factor of lying is the understanding of a social dynamic.  He's learning that telling us what we want to hear will make us happy and less likely to disrupt his interests.  He's long used a hug or cuddle as an escape from an uncomfortable situation.  Now he uses cuddles "proactively" to get what he wants: sliding in behind Dad at the keyboard for a hug is more likely to get him some keyboard time with Dad than a commando-style run at the keys.

Homeschooling Liam and allowing him the time to really dig into his own interests,  participating in outside classrooms where there is order, but not dogma, and honoring his autodidactic nature has let him shine. I think that kids, in general, need more time to play and discover on their own time, but for autistics, it is imperative.   As he's maturing, he's more interested in sharing his latest creation, asking for help or initiating games. 

Another wonderful development is a genuine interest in joining others outside of homeschool.  Urban Homeschoolers has given him the chance to learn in a structured, but less rigid environment.  He wants to practice the songs from choir and he mentions his science teacher by name.  Thinking "about" people and things that are not present was a rare event.  Now he'll let me know that his teacher or an idea are bubbling away in his brain. 

Liam visiting the local cat, Benny, outside of Urban Homeschoolers

A clay model built in his science class at Urban Homeschoolers, to show how Earth forces create land masses

The truth is, exactly one year ago, we walked away from all of the supports and institutions we had depended on since preschool.  We didn't know what to expect, but we knew we had to try something different.  By letting go, we've discovered more than we could have imagined.  And, in keeping with the season, I can say that I am truly thankful for lies.

Macbeth (or Menopause or My Cat) Hath Murdered Sleep!

The new bed

Like many families, especially those with autistic members, sleep, or the lack thereof, is an ongoing theme in our story.  My husband has always had trouble going to and staying asleep.  My son can't even begin to prepare to stay awake in bed for 2 - 3 hours until 9:30 PM and my night sweats and annoying geriatric cat conspire to wake me 2-3 times a night.  I miss sleep.  I really do.

During the hottest summer in all recorded history in LA, I took to sleeping on the couch, under an open window, every night.  My husband slept in the bedroom with the cat locked out and my son would stay (mostly) in his room, until about 6 AM, then he'd wander into the living room and say, "let's cuddle!"  I love it that my boy still wants to cuddle with me and, to be honest, he's too big for me to carry back to bed anyway, so we developed the "cuddle" habit in the morning.  We'd achieved a sort of sleep stasis.

Liam may take forever to get to sleep, but he's always happy in the morning!

A week ago, my husband announced that our old, rock-hard futon was finally, completely unsleepable. 

Liam lounging on the old futon

We were getting a new bed!  I left mattress selection up to him.  After all, I can fall asleep on anything, I may sweat on it, but passing out on it is no problem.  He settled on a plush IKEA mattress.  I went to the store to give it a "test-lay" and found it to be nice and cozy.

Dollars down and delivery made,  I washed the sheets and got ready to enjoy a really nice bed.  I slept a solid 5 hours before being annoyed awake by the cat.  I was satisfied.  My hubby was not.  He was uncomfortable.  I offered to put the cotton mattress topper back on the bed (it was bought as a last-ditch effort for the futon's end-of-days). 

Night two - Still great for me - and not so great for him.  "I want to try sleeping in the studio tonight, on the air mattress with the topper," he declared.  After two nights of no sleep, things were getting desperate.  I left our bedroom door open.  I was visited by the cat and my son during the night.  My husband was NOT visited by a good night's sleep. 

The next day, I went to Bed Bath & Beyond and bought a feather mattress topper.  My husband is very happy with his new feather pillow - I thought that adding this plushness might take the edge off the mattress.  This time, he went to bed early.  I wandered in a couple of hours later.  We left the air-mattress inflated in the studio, as a backup.

Liam tried to join us twice, but I still managed to finish a night in the bed.  Around 5, I got up, fed the cat and waited for Liam to join me on the couch.  That's when I noticed that the cat's paws smelled intensely of cat pee.  That only happens when he's peed on some squishy surface.  I ran to my son's room and was relieved to find it dry, then I remembered the air mattress.  Sure enough, the thick comforter, sheet, cotten mattress topper and mattress itself were soaked with cat pee. 

I doused everything in "Nature's Miracle," shoved the bedding into the washer, scrubbed and deflated the bed and took two Excedrin.  My husband awoke.  Well, I guess you can't awaken if you don't sleep.  This time he announced that he had been too hot, as soon as I came to bed.  He made his typical pot of strong-enough-to-walk-on-its-own coffee and I drank a cup - forgetting I had just taken two caffeine laced Excedrin. 

I was now a jittery wreck.  I decided to take a shower to relax.  While at Bed Bath and Beyond, getting the feather bed, I'd bought a plush, new bathroom rug. I snuggled my feet into the mat, as I waited for the water to get hot.  The rug was soaked.  With pee.  Cat pee. 

The most autistic brain in the house, by far, belongs to our cat.  New bed, new routine, new things - all were too much for Jake-Jake.  And now they were nearly too much for me.  The rug followed the mattress topper and bedding into the wash.  After I dried the rug, I put it into a bag in the closet.   In my mind, I said, "the day you die, cat, I am putting this thing back on the floor!" He's 14.  Shouldn't be long now. . .

A close-up of Jake, taken by Liam.  He is actually a much-loved member of the family.  No cats were harmed in the writing of this post.

The battle is not yet won.  My husband put a locking knob on the door and I loaded the bed with BOTH the cotton topper and the feather bed.  The cat is forbidden from entering our bedroom.  EVER AGAIN. 

And Liam?  He LOVES the new, big bed and while I was desperately trying to manage the a-pee-colypse, he learned several new skills on Minecraft, taught himself a new song on the piano and learned a new dance.  

Tomorrow after our class at Urban Homeschoolers,  I'll reward his patience with a return trip to his new favorite place - the pony rides in Griffith Park.  

The joy on his face makes it all better.  Tonight we will try again and see what dreams may come.