Another AHA moment...and of course, my mother not accepting
As I hope that my mother can somehow understand that my son truly does have autism,
(he's been diagnosed by TWO developmental pediatricians, seen by many others), I can't
understand why it's so hard for her...then I thought...
I remember when I was in 4th grade...(in 3rd grade I moved to the states) and all of a sudden
I found myself in a separate classroom for a while...I couldn't figure out why, nobody EVER
explained to me why...TO THIS DAY, nobody has ever had the guts to tell me why...and now
I remember what it was like...I was with only a few kids, but I do distinctly remember the kid
that sat next to me at lunch and rocked back and forth...I also remember the other kid who
had a nasty habit of spitting in his hands...but he also walked on his tip toes...but they seemed
normal to me...I actually thought one was cute and still remember his name...and the other,
well, he was cute too! haha (hey, I was in 4th!)...all of a sudden, I was no longer in that class...
I also remember that my sister always had girl friends, but I had mostly boy friends...
Now I wonder how much my mother cannot accept my son's diagnosis, because by accepting
it, she might have to accept that she was mean and cruel to me, although what I had
actually was real...it wasn't that I just wanted to be bad, it was the same as my child's autism...
and for her to admit he does indeed have it, would mean she failed badly as a parent, by
not only giving up, but denying my diagnosis, and making me feel all my life that I was just
a horrible child who should be put into a child's home because I made her life so miserable...
Sorry, to ramble, but it's just now hitting me...I keep saying that I believe part of this is genetics...
Funny but when I started my path and talked about vaccines, etc...she denied it...told me
I was crazy...then even with diagnosis for my child, she is still denying it, although I don't much
trust doctors and she thinks doctors are the best thing in the world...No matter what I say,
no matter how others can see what I see, she still cannot see it or at least, denies it
every chance she gets...
Anyway, sorry...but has anyone else had this issue with their parents?
PS - Does anyone know if there is anyway to get school records from that many years
ago to see WHY I was put in that room?
Thanks so much!
Where are you from originally?
I too, came from another country. I was placed in a special ed. classroom for first grade because my kindergarten teacher thought I wasn't proficient enough in the English language. In first grade however, I was reading English at a fifth grade level. I was in a class with older students who didn't read as well as I did. The teacher was excellent, though.
Luckily my parents, especially my mother, saw the same potential in me as my first grade teacher saw. In fact, my mother instilled a love of books and reading in me early on. I think it was instrumental in my success in school. I was always a bit different, but I did well academically.
Hugs to you and your son.
Actually, I'm from Puerto Rico...but I moved to the US in mid-year through 3rd grade. We were put in a billingual school and I was in advanced math in the billingual school. Then in fourth grade the teachers suggested they move us to a regular school, as we no longer needed to learn the language. Actually, my sister was never in a different class after the billingual school, but I was. In addition, my english was much better than my sister's...she has always even kept an accent, where I picked it up immediately and never had an accent...we were only one year apart, but most of my friends spoke english even in the billingual school, so I don't think that was the issue...but hey, maybe it was...hmmm...
I only say that because before we went to the US, she had also taken me to a psychologist...hmmm...
My parents won't accept that our kids are on the spectrum. They happily accepted that there was something wrong with me though. It exhonerated them of all wrongdoing, in their eyes. "But your kids are so well-behaved," they cite. But of course. We're parents. My parents didn't know what parenting meant. No discipline, no support, no encouragement...just a bunch of, "Why do you kids DO this to me!?" and "What did I ever do to deserve you kids?" and so on. The difference is, my children have discipline, support and encouragement. We act like parents instead of incompetent fools. Our kids know who is in charge, thus they feel safe. More stable. And they're *gasp* actually HAPPY!
But they still have what I had. The difference is better parenting. Admitting my daughter has the same condition would mean admitting they sucked and failed as parents, and hell would freeze over first.
Issues? I have a whole subscription.
_________________
They tell me I think too much. I tell them they don't think enough.
You are correct...I think that's the magic word...they'd have to accept they did one crappy job.
My mom was there for us, if what you mean by there was ensuring we had huge birthday parties and that she was at school to talk to all the teachers, principals and other mothers all the time...
Now, nope, can't remember a single time she sat with us and did ANYTHING at all other than that.
My dad? He traveled, but when he was home, he did read to us when we were very young...I haven't forgotten that. However, as their marriage seemed to be worse (ah, what a nightmare and they're still together), he instead went out more with his friends and was there even less for us...so then he was basically the one who punished us, or actually, ME constantly...Oh, no, my mom did that too! Let's see, can't even begin...lock me in the bathroom, beat me with a belt, had me on my knees for more than an hour on hard tile, until my knees hurt so bad I would cry...
Ah, yes, the great parents I had...We did always have a nice house and lived in a nice neighborhood...Our rooms were spotless...
Sorry, didn't mean to turn this into the horrible parent thread...but at the end of the day, yes, I do believe they would have to admit that there was actually a NAME to what I had and that they did one lousy job to take care of me...which of course, would mean that I'm a much better parent than them because although I expect my son to treat others with respect, I expect him to be polite, etc...I also don't beat him or tell him how he's a horrible child and that he has made my life miserable...
Nope...my child has made me a better parent and for that, I will always be thankful to him.
<<< PS - Does anyone know if there is anyway to get school records from that many years
ago to see WHY I was put in that room? >>>
Based on my school experince, three possibilites come to mind:
1) Special Ed classes
2) The "rescourse room" where students with learning issues could go to work on their assignments and get tutoring
3) They did the same thing to you that they used to do to me: stick me in the back room/closet/hallway to get you out of the teacher's hair. I spent most of fourth grade in the back room.
Interesting reading. Thank you all.
I certainly didnt have it anywhere near as bad.
I remember learning to read in grade one. I remember not getting some aspect of it. It feels like I didnt see the purpose of reading. The teacher took me aside, probably for a few minutes to 1/2 hour(i dont remember it being very long), and explained..whatever..its lost to the mists of time. After that there was no stopping me. I never scored less than 90% on a spelling or reading test after that.
She was a good teacher, but I always got in trouble for not doing my work, and not asking for help. I still dont ask for help to this day. It just doesnt occur to me.
Then came grade II. Because I wouldnt do my work, the teacher decided that I would stay inside for all recesses, until I started doing my work. It didnt bother me one bit! Did she think I craved the company of my peers?
My older brother came home crying one day because he was lonely at school; had nobody to play with. Mum responded with "play with your brother". Thats when the news got out. She came to the school the very next day and chewed out that teacher. There after, I went out for recess(and played by myself!), and during class my desk was shoved up tight against hers. I still didnt do my work. I still aced my tests.
Grade III was much better. The teacher was much more hands on and tended to read to us, or give us activities that required creativity. As long as you sat quietly and paid attention, passed your tests, everything was fine.
Grade IV. Wow. What a grade. Can you said pervy teacher lady? I knew you could.
Firstly, All teachers were required to wear pants for gym class. This lady favoured denim skirts. Even after getting in trouble she persisted. In gym class, her favourite exercise was.. leg splits? she'd lay on the floor, one leg on the ground, and lift the other up.. like scissors almost. Now a sensable teacher would, in the event of forgetting her jeans, face the soles of her feet(and the view of her nether-regions) away from our young eyes. But no. Even though the decent way would allow her better visibity of us, we bi-daily got the hairy thigh show(I dont recall her NOT wearing panties), and She demanded that we be looking her way(or we were "not paying attention").
Creepy? Kinda. Really.
But! It gets better. She took us on a trip, and bought 6 foot long shoe-string licorice. The game was to team up with another person and each start at one end. The first team to get to the center wins(or she did!). In grade four you team up with your best friend or another loser of the same sex. (I did have a best friend, and he was a outsider too, but it was a very easy going community.) So, in essense. she made 30 ten year olds kiss their best friend.. or tried to.
Creepy? Kinda. REALLY.
But! It gets BETTER! Or worse! I dont know about the other kids, but I was never alone with her. Thank god. I dont consider myself abused(but it was borderline!)
End of the year. She takes us for a hike and a bbq at the camp grounds. She has this little game she wants to play. She lines us up in rows of five, and she has spoons with holes in the handles. Attached to the holes are long pieces of string.. maybe 30 feet long? The rules are that the first person puts the spoon down their shirt, down their pants, and out the ankle. They pass it back to the next person and that person starts at the ankle, up through the pants, through the shirt and out the next.. and back to the next.. and so on.
She probably got see lots of kid skin in that hijinks. Is it just me or was there something really wrong with her? Yuck.
Grade V. A good teacher, but again.. still not doing my work. I get sent to the office. This was around the days where they were phasing out the strap. We were doubtful, but still scared of getting it. As part of the scare tactics, The principal takes it out and shows me. Scared me good. The actual punishment decided on was this: I would sit out in the hall way, separated, until I would do my work!
As if. I think the idea was that isolation is so terrible that one complies. Pfft. I LIKE being alone. I was happy out there! I have a rich inner world!
After some indeterminate time(i have no recollection if it was hours, days, weeks), I was 'allowed' back in the classroom. Possibly as an incentive. Parole of sorts. But still, I did not do my work, and was sent back to the principals office(unescorted, it was across the hall). It occurred to me that If i sat in the desk in the hall, each side would assume that the other was punishing me. It never occurred to me that they might TALK about it. Ha! But there I sat! If the ruse was ever discovered, they left me in peace.
We moved the next year. I didnt feel it important to actually tell anyone I was leaving. It got somewhat easier, though the punishments continued. But I was a rock that could never be moved. I dont think I completed one essay in all my school years. I never studied, never did a lic of homework, but I never failed a test.
Now its 16 years since I left school.. and you know what? I still think school sucks!