37: Flat Out Determined
Jul. 15th, 2011 10:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
judifilksign Today, I swam as usual with ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
pondside .
At Sparkle's summer school, the county was doing a training for teachers in how to work with autistic students. I was asked to stay and answer questions from a parental perspective, along with two other parents. The session went well, and I was able to help the teachers look at both sides of the equation. In particular, when the teachers looked confused as to why parents would feel intimidated by the Individualized Education Plan, I spouted off a typical goal: "In the mainstreamed classroom, student will attempt to independently orally read his weekly initial Dolch spelling words with an 80% accuracy, accumulating 60 words per grading sessions, to be evaluated by the Intervention Specialist in individualized sessions with a pre and post oral assessment." All the teachers nodded with me, and the two other parents looked at me and said "WHAT?"
I told the teachers they needed to translate the alphabet soup they'd had to learn to write "measurable goals," and after spouting the goal, explain it: "You child goes to reading class with regular students. While there, he will have a weekly spelling list of ten words taken from the Dolch list of the 100 most common words seen in books. We want him to be able to read each week's word list all by himself out loud. The teacher will have him in a reading session, and will listen to him try all by himself on Monday, and on Friday. We want him to get at least 8 out of 10 words right every week, and he'll have 60 words by the end of each six week grading period."
"OH!" said the other two parents. The really vocal one said, "I don't have time for all that BS. I don't know what my kid is gonna do next week, never mind goals for an entire year."
I also told the teachers that they needed to make sure that parents knew before the end of the school IEP meeting where their kid stood in terms of how he or she is relation to where he should be with age-typical peers, because if they find out for the first time at the meeting, they'll feel betrayed, or at least be using up all their emotions concentrating on that instead of the rest of the goals. The other parents strongly agreed.
Sparkle and I recycled cans today, and were the last folks through the gate to do so. They gave her tootsie rolls.
After supper, Sparkle and I went to go for our bike ride, and discovered the front tire of my bike had gone flat. We got my darling husband to pump it up, but a ride around the short alley block had it losing air fast. We scared two rabbits, who dashed down the alley ahead of us, crossed the street, and plunged into the bushes..
My darling husband tried to attach the trailer to the boys' yellow bike, but the seat post had too thick of a diameter to attach. I then got out the boys' old small bikes with the training wheels attached, and my DH and I pumped up the tires, and he raised the seat as high as it would go. Sparkle was excited to run a bike on her own, steering and all, and we set off around the block as the light dimmed, Sparkle pedaling, me trotting next to her.
I had her practice pedaling, then pedaling backwards to stop. She had to give great effort to get up even the smallest slope, but she was determined. We went around the short block, and as she coasted down the hillock, she scared the two rabbits we'd seen before in the same place. Sparkle screamed that she didn't want to hit the bunnies, and veered wildly right and left. The slope meant she accelerated ahead of me. I called for her to pedal backward, but Sparkle didn't, and shot out of the alley, across the street (and thank Goodness there was no traffic on our street, and that there usually isn't) and into the grass beyond, missing a tree, but scaring the bunnies out of their hiding places in those bushes.
Sparkle looked at me with round, scared eyes. I grew exceedingly cheerful and encouraging. "Hooray! You did not hit the bunnies! Remember, you need to PEDAL BACKWARDS to slow down and stop!"
Sparkle lost the round eyes, and said (straight from a Dora cartoon,) "I was going too fast to stop. I almost crashed!"
I said, "You did a nice job of steering. Next time, if you pedal BACKWARDS, you will slow down, and then stop, too."
Sparkle walked her bike back to the street, and I encouraged her to get back on, which she did readily. Again, as we headed on that short block home, I had her pedal, then pedal backward to stop. That backward pedal is still more accidental than on purpose, though, and I'm not sure she's making the connection yet. Steering is something she's pretty thrilled with. ("Isa turn the wheel, turn the wheel, Isa.") The boys came and ran alongside her for the last little bit home, and along the gravel drive, I helped push. I had to grab the back of Sparkle's overalls to stop her from crashing headlong into my car in the garage, though, because "Pedal backwards" became a "pedal harder forward" by mistake!
Sparkle ran inside, all happy. I got on the boys' yellow bike, and headed off into the deepening gloom. I was determined to have my ride! The boys ran the first block with me, and I pulled ahead and over to the bike trail, where I shifted the bike to 21st gear successfully. The boys' bike has smaller wheels, and the seat, although my DH raised it, is still too low to get full power with my legs in the most efficient way. This meant that pedaling was harder, while not going as far per push, or as fast overall.
The trail had the last traces of light along it, with fireflies, and little hard bugs that kept hitting my face and helmet with little clicks. I saw and heard the bats again, and they swept close past me squeaking and I could hear their wings flap, and could feel the breeze from their wings passing close. "You get those mosquitoes before they bite me, you betcha, go on, little bats!" I said loudly and cheerfully.
pondside . At Sparkle's summer school, the county was doing a training for teachers in how to work with autistic students. I was asked to stay and answer questions from a parental perspective, along with two other parents. The session went well, and I was able to help the teachers look at both sides of the equation. In particular, when the teachers looked confused as to why parents would feel intimidated by the Individualized Education Plan, I spouted off a typical goal: "In the mainstreamed classroom, student will attempt to independently orally read his weekly initial Dolch spelling words with an 80% accuracy, accumulating 60 words per grading sessions, to be evaluated by the Intervention Specialist in individualized sessions with a pre and post oral assessment." All the teachers nodded with me, and the two other parents looked at me and said "WHAT?"
I told the teachers they needed to translate the alphabet soup they'd had to learn to write "measurable goals," and after spouting the goal, explain it: "You child goes to reading class with regular students. While there, he will have a weekly spelling list of ten words taken from the Dolch list of the 100 most common words seen in books. We want him to be able to read each week's word list all by himself out loud. The teacher will have him in a reading session, and will listen to him try all by himself on Monday, and on Friday. We want him to get at least 8 out of 10 words right every week, and he'll have 60 words by the end of each six week grading period."
"OH!" said the other two parents. The really vocal one said, "I don't have time for all that BS. I don't know what my kid is gonna do next week, never mind goals for an entire year."
I also told the teachers that they needed to make sure that parents knew before the end of the school IEP meeting where their kid stood in terms of how he or she is relation to where he should be with age-typical peers, because if they find out for the first time at the meeting, they'll feel betrayed, or at least be using up all their emotions concentrating on that instead of the rest of the goals. The other parents strongly agreed.
Sparkle and I recycled cans today, and were the last folks through the gate to do so. They gave her tootsie rolls.
After supper, Sparkle and I went to go for our bike ride, and discovered the front tire of my bike had gone flat. We got my darling husband to pump it up, but a ride around the short alley block had it losing air fast. We scared two rabbits, who dashed down the alley ahead of us, crossed the street, and plunged into the bushes..
My darling husband tried to attach the trailer to the boys' yellow bike, but the seat post had too thick of a diameter to attach. I then got out the boys' old small bikes with the training wheels attached, and my DH and I pumped up the tires, and he raised the seat as high as it would go. Sparkle was excited to run a bike on her own, steering and all, and we set off around the block as the light dimmed, Sparkle pedaling, me trotting next to her.
I had her practice pedaling, then pedaling backwards to stop. She had to give great effort to get up even the smallest slope, but she was determined. We went around the short block, and as she coasted down the hillock, she scared the two rabbits we'd seen before in the same place. Sparkle screamed that she didn't want to hit the bunnies, and veered wildly right and left. The slope meant she accelerated ahead of me. I called for her to pedal backward, but Sparkle didn't, and shot out of the alley, across the street (and thank Goodness there was no traffic on our street, and that there usually isn't) and into the grass beyond, missing a tree, but scaring the bunnies out of their hiding places in those bushes.
Sparkle looked at me with round, scared eyes. I grew exceedingly cheerful and encouraging. "Hooray! You did not hit the bunnies! Remember, you need to PEDAL BACKWARDS to slow down and stop!"
Sparkle lost the round eyes, and said (straight from a Dora cartoon,) "I was going too fast to stop. I almost crashed!"
I said, "You did a nice job of steering. Next time, if you pedal BACKWARDS, you will slow down, and then stop, too."
Sparkle walked her bike back to the street, and I encouraged her to get back on, which she did readily. Again, as we headed on that short block home, I had her pedal, then pedal backward to stop. That backward pedal is still more accidental than on purpose, though, and I'm not sure she's making the connection yet. Steering is something she's pretty thrilled with. ("Isa turn the wheel, turn the wheel, Isa.") The boys came and ran alongside her for the last little bit home, and along the gravel drive, I helped push. I had to grab the back of Sparkle's overalls to stop her from crashing headlong into my car in the garage, though, because "Pedal backwards" became a "pedal harder forward" by mistake!
Sparkle ran inside, all happy. I got on the boys' yellow bike, and headed off into the deepening gloom. I was determined to have my ride! The boys ran the first block with me, and I pulled ahead and over to the bike trail, where I shifted the bike to 21st gear successfully. The boys' bike has smaller wheels, and the seat, although my DH raised it, is still too low to get full power with my legs in the most efficient way. This meant that pedaling was harder, while not going as far per push, or as fast overall.
The trail had the last traces of light along it, with fireflies, and little hard bugs that kept hitting my face and helmet with little clicks. I saw and heard the bats again, and they swept close past me squeaking and I could hear their wings flap, and could feel the breeze from their wings passing close. "You get those mosquitoes before they bite me, you betcha, go on, little bats!" I said loudly and cheerfully.
This attracted the attention of a couple who were passing me from behind on bikes with flashing lights, and the girl suddenly noticed that there were bats, and started screaming and waving her arms and weaving and generally freaking out. The boyfriend shouted to just ignore them, and then the girl changed gears with a grinding set of clicks, and just LEPT into action, shooting down the trail at top speed. The boyfriend pedaled hard after, but he wasn't even close to catching up to her. I watched their lights grow dim in the distance, and she pulled away further and further from him. I was reminded of how I felt when chased by the dogs, and when the storm closed in suddenly, and felt bad that I'd drawn her attention to something that scared her so much.
I turned around at the first road, since this was "get it in despite disaster," not "How far do you dare to ride in the dark." Downhill was smooth, and I kept my head down, and kept hearing the clicks of the bugs bouncing off my helmet. I sort of squinted my eyes and kept my mouth firmly shut, too, because they pinged off my face as well, and I wanted no part of them in my eyes or mouth, bleagh.
The bats continued their aerobatics around me the entire way out and back along the trail. I told them, "Yeah, you get them bugs! Squeak, I tell you, squeak squeak!" They didn't follow me once I got on the road paralleling the trail through my townlet, nor did I see any more on my way back home.
The last downhill and curve was dark. I steered more from familiarity than seeing the road clearly. As I passed the alley of the short block to my house, I scared those two rabbits again!
I don't know when I will be able to get the bike repaired, so I'm guessing I am going to be doing more triathlons: swimming, running alongside Sparkle, and riding myself in the near future.
Never give up; never surrender! And full props up to my darling husband for dropping everything in fading light to get us back rolling, somehow.
