End of (Preschool) Days

Sensitive to applause, Little A covers his ears to be sure.

The hat is a little bothersome, so off it comes.

Today, Little A officially ended his preschool days at the school he's attended for three years. Once again, children in the class wore togas, but since they are a mixed group, the 4 year olds sometimes stay another year to complete the Kindergarten level at this school, as Little A did. Several of his classmates were those he'd been with for a year or two, and one had been in the same class since the first year they both attended the school.

Little A's class danced, and while he had been practicing assiduously for weeks in the classroom and performing some of the steps for us at home, he was stage-shy, and followed the blocking, but did not do any of the steps on stage. The class then sat down to take turns announcing to the assembled audience what they wanted to be when they grew up (Little A held up a sign in lieu of speaking), and then again taking turns to receive their "diplomas".

It was a monumental achievement in the life so far of a young boy, particularly mine, as many children with autism who mainstream in preschool years do not go on to do so for grade school, either because of the lack of available inclusion schools with support programmes, or because parents feel the child would be better off in an entirely SPED setup, all things considered.

Little A's future school is still undecided, as we await news from the school he tried out last week. That bridge will be crossed as it gets here. More urgent is what's in the present - his summer schedule.

Easter is upon us next week, and then Big A has declared a trip to the mountains for the week following, so we all get a bit of a break. Beginning April 1st, however, a plan must be quickly put into place and instructions disseminated to Little A's team.

Apart from his regular OT and Speech therapies, his home ABA teacher will continue to come and do lessons with him. I do plan to enrol him in a music and/or art class, and to attempt some Integrated Play Groups, after attending a most excellent workshop the other day detailing some of the requirements, benefits and a basic program outline.

Little A knows that this is a new time for him. While I told him several times that after this day he would "no longer be a Toddler but a bigger boy," I wasn't sure he really understood that he was moving up and moving on. On the way home though, from lunch after the commencement exercises, he solemnly typed in his iPad "IfyouhappyknowitToddlers". I could be wrong, but am taking this to mean he understands, and that this is his way of telling us he was happy at Toddlers Teachers Inc, and is feeling bittersweet about those days coming to an end. 

Circles

What goes around, comes around. Pay it forward. We hear and read things like this everywhere. Every religion talks about getting what you deserve, in this life or the next.

This week, I realized all the sayings are very, very true.

When Little A was sixteen months old, I enrolled him in a playschool across the road. The owner of the school was a neighbor with a son a few months older than Little A.

While the school didn't last too long, she did make use of her space to open a Tomatis Centre, and held two seminars, both of which I attended. The first introduced the therapy and its benefits. It was at this event that I met the doctor who would become Little A's developmental pediatrician.When Little A still wasn't speaking at age 2, we made an appointment to have him assessed, and a few months later, he was diagnosed as being on the autism spectrum.

The second seminar was about Special Education in Regular Schools - inclusion programmes, in other words. When this event took place, Little A had started at his preschool, but I was already feeling that he might need a shadow teacher. I met one there, who turned out to be working at the preschool I had wanted Little A to attend had it not been so far away, owned by the same people running Keys Grade School, where we are now applying him for next school year.

The second speaker was from Brent International School, the school Big A dreamed his son would attend (because in our time the girls from there sported the shortest uniform skirts imaginable). Hearing about Brent's inclusion programme put that school at the top of my list for his future applications, which are no longer in the future but very much in the present!

Upon submitting Little A's application last October, I was told by the Admissions Office that for several years now, they have stopped accepting children on the autism spectrum. Disappointed, I went on with the school search.

Then, two weeks ago, Little A's PROMPT therapist, newly back from maternity leave, mentioned that two of her colleagues were setting up a new inclusion school to open this coming academic year.

This therapist also happens to be the in-house speech pathologist at Brent; her students who do not attend the school are seen at home, or, in Little A's case, his grandmother's house, which is as far north as the teacher is willing to travel. She sent me the link to One World School, and I contacted the person-in-charge, who set a meeting the following weekend.

When I arrived at the meeting, who did I meet but the very speaker from the inclusion seminar in 2010, whose name I hadn't gotten back then and couldn't find later through the neighbor who hosted the seminar! Truly, it was serendipity. He and his colleague told me about the school, and I in turn told them about Little A and handed over the obligatory set of therapist reports, psychoeducational assessment, health certificates and the like, all of which I have in multiple copies for any school applications that may suddenly turn up.

Since the school is still under construction and no marketing has yet begun, I was one of the first to apply, therefore securing my son a place. Hooray!! Their programme is good, but it will mean Little A will have to "repeat" his last year of preschool, as for the first year they will only be offering preschool classes and adding grade levels as the students progress.

The good thing is, the team heading the school is experienced and able. The campus is conveniently located, and the facilities will be at least as nice as what is currently available at Little A's current preschool. The tuition is more than twice what the other schools are asking, but we will no longer need to provide our own shadow teacher, which will save us more in the long run rather than paying school fees and the shadow's hourly rates for possibly Little A's entire academic life.

This school will take him through to age 18 and beyond, as they will offer transition programmes and life coaching for adults with special needs as well. So truly, this is a fervent prayer answered, for as long as we can afford to keep Little A there, that is. It's a huge load off my mind.

School Search

As only a parent of a special needs child will know, getting your child a place in a good school, one that suits the child's personality and supports the child's needs, is nearly as difficult as finding that proverbial needle in a haystack.

For one, there is the list of available schools, which, as I have mentioned before, does not exist for children on the Autism Spectrum. A friend whose daughter has Down's Syndrome was given a "Bible" shortly after her child was born, detailing doctors, therapists, schools and various other programmes available at the time. This directory is regularly updated at doctor's visits.

Children on the autism spectrum, on the other hand, are rarely diagnosed before they are two years old, and when they are, because each child is different, finding the right course of action is always a long process of trial and error. There are diets, biomedical treatments, assorted therapies and many more. Finding a school, when the child is of age, is just one more challenge.

After ruthlessly questioning friends, teachers, therapists and random women in waiting rooms, supermarkets and bank queues, I made a list and went through it one school at a time.

First was Reach International School, an inclusive school even nearer our home than Little A's current preschool. A visit though, led me to think that this would not be the best environment for my son, as the work is done on a largely self-motivated basis. There was no teacher and class interaction, or even small group work. Students meet with the teacher one at a time for instructions and complete the set work quietly at their desks. At the moment my son needs a shadow teacher just to keep him seated long enough to complete a single worksheet, so this type of school was not right for him.

Next came The Laren School, a Montessori school located in a commercial building not far from home. My parent's visit morning was very eye-opening. While my sister attended a Montessori school, I knew very little about it beyond that the preschool advocated independence and taught children self-help skills as part of the programme. I thought Little A would benefit hugely through their manipulative material-based learning methods.

Unfortunately, it turns out there will not be a space available for him this coming school year. Since Laren runs vertical classes, children aged 6-9 are in one group, and there were already 3 special needs kids among them. A new student would only be offered a place if one of the special needs students was ready to move to the regular group.

Inclusion schools generally accept a maximum of 2 special needs children per class, in classes of up to a dozen students. Larger schools run on more traditional programmes do not support inclusion at all.

St. Mary of the Woods's SPED coordinator impressed me throughly with her knowledge and years of experience in the field of educating special needs children in a traditional setting. I wasn't sure though, if Little A would benefit from being mainstreamed in Filipino language social studies classes, but I did like that they are a Catholic school, as I want my son raised in the same faith as his parents, grandparents and cousins.

The Learning Child turned out to be a bit of a dead end as they have started phasing out their grade school levels and are maintaining only the preschool.

The Abba's Orchard, another Montessori school, did not seem very keen to process Little A's application, as after I paid a visit and made several phone calls, they never got around to scheduling him for an assessment.

Create School had a wait list as long as my arm. Plus, they weren't really an inclusion school in that Little A would be in a separate class, along with other special needs kids of his same level of ability.

Britesparks School was recommended by a friend of my sister, whose child attended the school and has since moved successfully to a traditional one. However, a visit and telephone call revealed that their SPED support department had dematerialized due to talent being lost overseas and to other industries over the last two years. They will only accept very high-functioning, Asperger's students. Not proper inclusion, then, so not an option for us.

I was hesitant to even apply Little A to Keys Grade School, as I had it from one of the directors and the principal back in August that spaces for special needs children were reserved years in advance by the students attending their preschool. However, my mum's former student turned out to be the vice-principal, and she convinced us to pay a visit anyway. I was so glad we did, as we were beyond impressed by the teachers, the programme and most of all, the students. They were, without exception, confident, articulate, interested and positive in an environment that clearly nurtured and developed them properly.

As a special needs applicant, Little A's entire support team was required to attend an open day, and then write recommendation letters. His application has been processed and he is scheduled for assessment and a two-day sit in next week.

Keys is a fair school, assessing all applicants over a period of at least two days and making final decisions and issuing offer or rejection letters in mid-April. As their academic year begins in early June, this does not leave parents of children who are not accepted much leeway to find backup schools at that late time.

Apart from those, my alternatives were SPED centres, which would focus more on self-help and life skills rather than academics, which seems a shame when considering that Little A was reading ahead of his year level and has achieved many improvements by modeling his neurotypical classmates. I prayed we would find a place at an inclusion school.

My prayers were answered. More on that next post!
 

Silver Linings

Sometimes you're leery of making an announcement too early, in case you jinx it. This is one such. But as it's been little over a month, I'm hoping it is safe enough to let the cat out of the bag without undue consequences.

No, I am not pregnant. And no, we did not win the lottery. But this is a priceless prize I am about to share, so it may be just as good, for our little family.

In the light of the bullying debacle (outcome to be announced next week, I hope) that led to Little A's sudden hysterical fear of going to sleep at night, I decided to move him into his own room, with the hopes that he wouldn't associate sleeping in there with anything negative.

He's been sleeping on a mattress on our floor for some time, despite getting his own bed for his fourth birthday. The reason for the room share was partly to defray electricity costs (just one instead of two air conditioners running a night) but mainly because Little A, since birth, was never the longest of sleepers.

Unlike other newborns who clock 3 hour naps and 5 hour nightly sleeps, Little A woke up every 45 minutes to feed as an infant. This blog chronicles our sleep dramas and traumas, among other things.

By the time he was 5, Little A would sleep a 7 or 8 hour stretch, but also log in around two 5 hour nights a week.

When he'd wake up between 3 and 4 pm, he obediently stayed in bed, as he was told getting up before there was light out wasn't allowed - not that he didn't try, in the beginning, to turn on the lights and start playing. But it always took him 2 hours to fall back asleep, and then I would wake him up at 8am to start the day properly.

The unexpected silver lining to the bullying and crying himself to sleep was that he suddenly began sleeping longer night stretches. Combining that with giving up his naps meant he actually got a proper night's sleep.

Apart from maybe 3 times he's woken up before dawn this past month, he's been going to sleep cheerfully at 10pm and waking promptly at 7am or so. He's our little alarm clock, always reliable.

They say things happen for a reason, and that something good may come out of a negative experience. Here, then, is a perfect example.

Drowning Daddy

Pushing Daddy's head under

Checking for bubbles

Making sure he's still underwater

Swimming away

Undewater hug

 Swimming days are here again. Happy happy joy joy for Little A. Even when the water was still a bit nippy, he happily jumped in. The first couple of swims of the year were careful ones as he never strayed far from the edge. When the water warmed up though, and his confidence returned, off he went like a fish, underwater, backwards, sideways.

When Big A was teaching him how to blow bubbles last summer, Little A discovered it was more fun to see how long his dad could stay underwater. (The answer: Quite long, thanks to his decade or so of training as part of the National Swimming team.) These days, he likes to play what I call the "drowning game," and never tires of it, even looking for other willing victims when his dad isn't in the pool with him.

Summer is not yet officially here, though the weather seems to be saying otherwise. Sundays are pool days, then, and this is one of them. We're off now, to the water.

Is, Has

A small L serves as apostrophe

Phoenetics - they "coudin" put Humpty back together

Ronald was a farmer, you know

Along with spelling, Little A is learning grammar. Apostrophes perplexed him as he knew the ABCs and could read, so I would explain that sometimes an apostrophe was short for "is," as in "It's raining," "It's sunny," since the first apostrophes he regularly encountered were when observing the weather during therapy sessions.

Logically, "are" also contracted therefore into 're, as in "If you're happy." So he happily went and constructed those phrases, with or without an apostrophe.

Before I could explain possessives properly, however, he observed the Golden Arches all over town, and figured they meant "McDonald is." And since his favourite nursery rhyme, after Humpty Dumpty, is that of the farmer and his animals, he sometimes turns Ronald into a farmer. He always precedes this with the proper spelling of Old MacDonald, so I know he is aware that they aren't the same. So we need to get cracking with the next grammar lesson.

Use Your Words

It's been said that language is what separates us from the animals. Mere communication isn't enough, there must be language development. After all, human infant communicate by crying, and later on with gestures. But it isn't until they begin to use language purposefully that they are considered properly "evolved."

For non-verbal individuals, such as Little A, language development is considered retarded. I can't say I agree entirely. My child doesn't speak, but he does communicate, and works hard at it, too.

Ever since, at about age 2.5, when I discovered quite by accident that he could read, we've been encouraging Little A to spell out things with letter tiles. He types much faster than even his father does, adeptly finding out what he wants to view on youTube by spelling things phoenetically or from memory. I catch him in the car, as we are driving to school, looking carefully at the building names, and then later spelling out at home "ChinaBank," "ToastBox," "StarbucksCoffee" or "DeutscheBank" with no prompting or help whatsoever.

These days, his therapists are advocating magnetic words, as Little A's receptive language is astounding, and it takes too long to spell each word of several phrases out letter by letter.

As the photos indicate, he's gone from words to phrases to sentences. We now have over a dozen alphabet sets combined, as he still does like spelling things out letter by letter, as he enjoys forming the words. He's even grasping the nuances of the language - more on that later. Most importantly, he doesn't simply parrot back what he sees. He adds his own little bits of humour at times - "Humpty Dumpty great fall oh no."

Almost daily, I catch him spelling at least one new phrase I've never seen before. He answers questions as well, with minimal prompting, and always initiates activities using his word cards. At the height of the bullying at school, he would spell out on the classroom floor, "No More Clapping" and "I want to go to the bookstore."

So we are not entirely giving up on his speech emerging, but for now are actively working on developing this alternative method of communication to become more efficient, as this is the best way he can be tested as to how much he knows. And really, he does know rather a lot.