Here is an eleven year old post that I wrote when I was fourteen years old.
*A happy footnote is that I now know of three of my former classmates from elementary school who are now fluently typing to communicate. I hope there are even more.
Here is an eleven year old post that I wrote when I was fourteen years old.
*A happy footnote is that I now know of three of my former classmates from elementary school who are now fluently typing to communicate. I hope there are even more.
In the olden days, Deaf Education tried to make the deaf look hearing. Deaf children had to learn lip reading and speech. The use of sign language was prohibited in schools. In those days many deaf people were born hearing so they knew what speech sounded like and what it felt like to talk before they were deafened by illness. Those children did pretty well speaking and lip reading as a result, and phenomenally better when compared to born deaf people who had never had the sound of speech to guide them. The schools touted their successful speakers as proof of their methods, and the so-called failures, un-touted, had to be stuck without sign language, the ability to speak clearly or the ability to read silent lips.
There is an obvious parallel to autism now. The successes of ABA have typically been children like the character, Peter, in my novel, In Two Worlds. For those unfamiliar with the story, the novel’s protagonist, Anthony has nonspeaking autism and is considered by professionals to be “low-functioning.” Peter, a boy his same age, is talking verbally and is considered to be “high-functioning.” But they are actually lumped as identical in terms of diagnosis. Moreover, they receive identical therapies. Peter is successful because of the methods, they say. Anthony is a failure because his autism is too severe, they also say.
Though the born hearing child and the born deaf child were both not able to hear, their situations simply were not the same. One had a distinct advantage with the educational methods provided because of those years having heard and having produced speech. So too, Peter is not the same as Anthony. His motor system performs more reliably. He is able to show many more skills. Their differing responses to the discrete trials does not take into account how different their symptoms are nor how one child may thrive with a treatment that fails another.
Anthony is bright but is severely trapped behind an uncooperative motor system that makes him appear foolish. He might get drills and flashcards to his dying day but it won’t give him the ability to show his intelligence. To do that he must be able to communicate in an accessible modality, by pointing to letters, and not by speech. When the deaf community insisted that they needed sign language in order to live fully and to not miss out on real communication, educational change happened. The deaf finally got a say in how deaf people were educated. I believe change in autism education and treatment will finally come when limited and nonspeaking autistic people demand a say in their education and mode of communication too.
Below is an excerpt from In Two Worlds from the chapter in which you meet Peter.
From Chapter 11: Peter, Autistic Superstar
Peter was the same age as Anthony. He had the same diagnosis. He also worked with Natasha, Nina, Charlotte and Alyssa in the ABA program, and Anthony and Peter also shared the same speech therapist. In fact, Peter was her star pupil. Their lives were practically parallel, but in every professional comparison with Peter, Anthony came out looking bad. Peter learned his drills faster. He learned to follow instructions quickly. He spoke with clear articulation and he looked fairly normal. He occasionally had temper tantrums, but otherwise Peter was the dream student.
To Anthony, Peter seemed to be the luckiest autistic guy in the universe. On the journey they shared, Peter was nearing the finish line and Anthony was barely out of the gates. The ABA data showed Peter learning new words rapidly, so rapidly he was doing the most advanced drills out there. Dr. Hagerty loved to remind people that he helped make some autistic kids lose their diagnosis. They may have been born impaired, but hard work, dogged perseverance and a little luck made a boy like Peter succeed. A case like Peter was the reason Dr. Hagerty had his reputation. He had many such cases, proof of the efficacy of his methods. Peter was an autism success story.
A stubborn case like Anthony confounded Hagerty, and everyone else. After years of intensive ABA, Anthony had progressed in his drills, but in no way was he looking even remotely close to normal. He had reached the point that many professionals believed to be virtually hopeless. They might help mitigate his symptoms but he would never “recover,” in the jargon of the trade. So, Anthony knew he was an autistic failure. He could not prove his intelligence, like lucky Peter. He knew that, because Nina and Natasha and everyone else also worked with Peter, they could not help but compare the boys. Anthony prayed inside to be like Peter. If only he could make his body obey him he could perform perfectly on his discrete trials too. But instead he was one of those frustrating kids who made Natasha and his team carry on with false optimism.
(I hope you enjoyed this excerpt from In Two Worlds. If you did, please consider reading the whole thing!)
(Also available as an ebook on Smashwords as well as kindle)
Posted in autism, autism education, autism theories, autism treatments, Deaf Education, self advocacy, Self determination
Tagged sign language
It is the anniversary of the publication of my greatest achievement, my novel, In Two Worlds. Why do I say my greatest achievement? After all, my first book, Ido in Autismland, is better known. The answer covers many things.
I know many typers with autism who have written books. They are all nonfiction memoirs or essays, as is Ido in Autismland. To my knowledge, In Two Worlds is the first, and only, novel of fiction, narrative and dialogue ever written by a nonspeaking autistic person about the autistic experience.
It is for this reason that I brag a bit. I understand autism. I understand my inner world and I understand the inner experience of In Two Worlds’ wonderful hero, Anthony. You, the reader, experience autism through his eyes. You experience the visual sensory kaleidoscope that overwhelms him time and again. You experience his anguish at being motor trapped in his body unable to show anyone he understands.
That is, anyone except you, the reader, because you hear his thoughts. Only Anthony and the reader are privy to his mind. Everyone else in his life misses his interior because his exterior is so compromised.
In Two Worlds, a BookLife Prize quarterfinalist in fiction, has been compared by readers to important past works of fiction that shed light on other mistreated or misunderstood peoples, and whose plight once depicted in these novels inspired societal change for the better.
And who is more misunderstood by others than a person who can’t speak or communicate thoughts? Who is more misunderstood than a person who cannot show he is intelligent and is physically controlled by motor compulsions that appear nonsensical?
The first part of the novel is devoted to Anthony’s life before he can communicate. He is frustrated, lonely, and underestimated by everybody, family and professionals, and bored of baby talk and baby lessons. He lives his life waiting, hoping, stimming, and finally he gives up because year after year nothing changes for him. Until one day he finally meets his liberator, Marina, who teaches him at 16 how to type to communicate and from this his entire life changes.
The world of autism, as anyone familiar with my blog knows, is filled with powerful opinionated educators, specialists and dolts. They do not take challenges to their theories lightly. Anthony is liberated by being able to communicate, but many new struggles are just beginning for him as he now must fight for his right to an education and to be recognized as a sentient being. It is not an easy journey.
I invite you to read In Two Worlds if you haven’t already. I invite you to review In Two Worlds and would be grateful if you did. It is a book for everyone. Not just for those of us inundated by Autismland. I did not write the book for us. I wrote it for the world to understand us. I wrote it for book clubs, libraries, and teenagers, to give to friends, to open eyes, to open minds, and to open hearts.
ABA is the first treatment recommended by pediatricians when a baby is diagnosed with autism. It is often paid for by insurance, school districts and other sources.
It covers lots of hours.
It gives parents a break.
Who benefits from all this effort? And how much does it actually help?
I have observed that it is big business, to the tune of billions of dollars a year.
I have seen young practitioners open agencies of their own with only a few years of experience.
The demand is high.
So I want to do an informal, anecdotal survey. My personal experience tells me that ABA has been a source of suffering for a lot of nonspeakers- though perhaps others with different symptoms may be helped by the flashcards, the baby talk, and the “touch your nose,” BS. But for me, I get PTSD flashbacks just hearing the phrases, “High Five!” or “Good Job!” Thankfully, no one gives me a so-called neutral no anymore.
I know so many people now, and there are more all the time, who had years of DTT and ABA –to great expense and parental commitment– who once they reach the age of no return are just written off into “dummy-land.” In other words, too “low,” too “severe,” to be “cured.” Because, after all, “recovery” is the promised land and the parents of the kid that fails to recover during that “window of opportunity,” is then told that the kid just isn’t sufficiently cognitively with it. Sorry for the inconvenience. It only took a decade to figure out.
But lots of these kids type now and they have a different POV. They are highly cognitively with it. But motor “without it.”
So, I’m curious, what was your, or possibly your kid’s, experience with ABA?
How much did it help?
Did it drive you nuts, like it did me, or did you not mind it?
Please specify if the person who received the ABA is speaking or nonspeaking. I’d like to compare the difference in service satisfaction.
I’d love to hear your stories.
Posted in ABA, autism, autism treatments, nonspeaking autism, Uncategorized
Here is proof that learning to communicate changes lives. I get thrilled every time I hear how my book has helped others move to communication. Life misunderstood, isolated and silent is not an adequate result for years of therapy and a parade of specialists who marched through this family’s house.
There are stubborn people who have to listen to us, but they won’t, I’m afraid. But there are open people who have listened.
Things are improving, little by little. Here is one family’s story.
I believe exercise is one of the most important early interventions for autism. In so many cases I see people with autism who barely walk ten feet and have no muscle tone, yet no one works on fitness with them. In a mind/body communication disconnect, early exercise programs can help forge a better communication network between body and brain. I’m sure the kid gym classes I took as a toddler and a young boy helped me be more coordinated, though I wish I had had more intensive help in several areas I will discuss. If I had received that support when I was younger I would have an easier time now in fitness.
In no particular order I recommend early intervention in:
1. stretching,
2. coordination–especially bilateral movements
3. cardio work, such as hiking and running
4. strength training.
My biggest motor obstacle today is that I have tight muscles and tendons. It is a problem affecting my physical comfort and will take a lot of time and effort to improve. I feel that it should have been noticed by adaptive PE teachers, or occupational therapists, or other professionals working with me physically, but they never said a word. Physical assessments looking at the areas I mentioned should be standard because catching problems early makes them easier to fix.
Since professionals may miss things, parents should be vigilant and try to work on stretching, cardio, strength and coordination with their kids starting when they are young and making it part of their lifestyle. Going for brisk walks, doing simple stretches, picking up light weights, or touching alternate toes, are all things young children can do daily and can help make movement and exercise comfortable and can help the body learn to listen better to the brain.
Posted in autism, autism treatments, exercise
As a person with a severe movement and mind body connection disorder, coupled with a variety of sensory processing issues that affect my ability to take in normative auditory or visual input at times, I look and act like I have autism. The reason I look and act like I have autism is because this is what autism is. These issues affect my movements and lock me into motor pathways that may become embedded and intrusive and affect my presentation of myself to the world. I may write more in the future about what I have learned about autism and sensory processing and how it affects us, but today I want to address theories.
The obvious treatment for a sensory and movement disorder affecting all motor issues like handwriting, facial expressions, gesture, speaking, ability to sit for long periods, feel your own body, make eye contact, get out of perseverative motor patterns called stims, initiate, visually scan for items, and be able to show our innate intelligence, would be to focus on movement and to address sensory challenges. Few professionals do this, but some do, like Soma, as well as movement and exercise specialists.
Theories about autism by people who have degrees, titles and prestige but little understanding of autism have been the norm. I have recently learned that in France where I can eat a baguette and enjoy a café aux lait in the shade of the Eiffel Tower, I would also be treated with psychoanalysis for my “mental illness” because in France my symptoms are due to my emotions, not my neurological disorder. In psychoanalysis I would lie on a sofa mute, because I can’t talk, but my silence would be blamed not on my motor/mind communication, but on my parents, specifically my mother. They will say she created my autism by coldness and rejection of me, despite all evidence to the contrary. Moreover, treatment will include “Le packing,” wrapping me tightly in cold, wet sheets for some bizarre reason. I may only be a person with autism, and not a brilliant French psychoanalyst, but I would like to try this treatment on you, you arrogant know-nothing.
Here in ABA-land, theories are equally misguided, but less cruel. Still, 40 hours a week of touching flashcards won’t help a toddler who may have an inability to focus visually, or hear speech distinctly in a sea of sounds, or be able to move the way he wants, to gain the sensory control or muscle control he needs to be able to communicate or show his intelligence. That’s because ABA believes autism is a severe learning disability that is treated by drills, rewards and baby talk. This makes recognition of the motor challenges nearly impossible because all the data from the child’s success in performing the drills is interpreted as a measure of how much the child understands speech, and not of whether the child can get his body to move correctly. Therefore if a child is told to jump and he doesn’t jump because he can’t get his body to move at that moment in that way, his failure is chalked up to a lack of understanding the word ‘jump’ even if he damn-well understands the word ‘jump’ and everything else. To interpret data solely based on the belief that a person’s actions are an accurate reflection of their comprehension of speech, leaves out the possibility of helping this motor trapped person address his real needs.
Did I mention it’s 40 hours a week?
Autism treatment is big business, here or there. Change therefore will be slow.
Posted in autism theories, autism treatments, France
I hear from many people from different countries regarding autism. As bad as I feel about our understanding of autism here in the US and how hard it remains for so many people, I now understand how much worse it is in other countries. My life has been liberated by communication. I have many challenges, but also opportunities. Most significantly, my school district allowed me to be educated in regular classes once I proved my intelligence by typing on a letter board. Now my improved skills in handwriting and typing on an iPad are making my life easier still, but I have a long way to go.
Many times I feel down and I realize how hard it is to overcome my body, but I also know I am improving and I practice motor issues daily to work on my mind body connection. But the letters I receive tell me how it is in other countries where autism treatment is stuck in the 1950s where belief in “refrigerator mothers” causing autism and treatment by psychotherapy still rule. This is in developed countries, mind you.
How do they treat polio? Do they still use iron lungs or do they immunize? It’s inhumane. If you live in France, or other countries treating autism this way or in other outmoded ways, please share your experiences with me.
But I also know that some countries are stuck even further in the past, in the 19th century, Victorian asylum mode. I need to help change things. How do you think we can do it?
Posted in autism education, autism theories, autism treatments, Bettelheim, France