United We Stand

October certainly is shaping up to be "dress up" month at Little A's school. Hot on the heels of Literacy Week and Language Month is United Nations Day, usually celebrated quite close to half-term. This year, Little A's school held it a week before their Halloween event so as to have two chances to come to school in fancy dress.

In the weeks leading up to UN Day, the students did arts and crafts work celebrating different nations - cutting and glueing flags and that sort of thing. For the day itself, they were asked to come to school dressed in costumes from different countries, and Little A came as a Middle Eastern. It was the only costume among the choices at the department store that I know he would wear without much fuss, and luckily he was the only one so garbed among his schoolmates.

A week later was Halloween Day, on the last day before the half-term break. Again, fancy dress, and this time Little A came as a scuba diver in a pair of trompe l'oeil pyjamas. Carrying his pumpkin and standing in line, each of the classes visited the assigned stations at the school to pick up treats.

We have another week until Halloween proper, so I do hope Little A is just as cooperative when it comes to donning a costume again and this time trick or treating around the houses in neighbouring villages. He has a third outfit to put on, one that matches mine and Big A's as we attend a yearly Halloween themed birthday party for a dear friend. There are prizes for best costumes, and this time we aim to take home the family one.  Happy Halloween, all! 

Football

By the time Big A and I were ten, we were seriously into competitive sport. He trained with, and swam for, the Philippine national team for about a decade, while I was on my way to a performing arts boarding school with the end goal of dancing professional ballet.

Little A, at 7, has not yet joined a proper sport workshop, though he does swim far better than other kids his age, an amazing feat for a self-taught child.

Still, team sports are something we want him to experience, and the perfect opportunity came up when a local football teaching club recently set up a set of sessions specifically for the kids at Little A's school.

"Auditions"
Before starting classes, the football club spent two full days at school getting to know each of the interested students, and testing their skills with the help of the school nurse/PE teacher and Occupational Therapist. This was done during school hours and I received no feedback on Little A's trial, so when I signed him up for the classes I had no idea what to expect.

Football sessions are held at a covered basketball court near the school, and thankfully near our home as well. We were late for the first one, but only by a few minutes, so I rushed Little A into the middle of the group, but he didn't want to let go of my hand as it was a new environment and a new group of "teachers".

While the drills were nothing he would have difficulty with, I worried about his social integration skills. Thankfully, a friendly coach and the school OT took him in hand midway through, and he joined in the rest of the drills without much complaint.

Lesson one went well, and I was particularly impressed with the coaches, who knew the name of every child upon arrival and both engaged the kids and kept their attention and focus amazingly well for the entire hour.

Team Sport
At the end of Lesson One, I was given a uniform for Little A to don in future sessions. Come the second lesson, he looked almost a proper little footballer, save the socks and shoes which I have not yet purchased, bad mother that I am.

Lesson Two went better than the first, because most of the children knew what to expect and were generally going with the flow. We look forward to seeing their progress in the next couple of months.

While it may just be a pipe dream for most of us that any of our children will turn into the next David Beckham, I think everyone involved is pleased and proud at how children generally perceived to be in their own little worlds willingly come together and develop new skills. I hope things only get better and more fun for them. 

Our Heroes

Teachers' Day is celebrated in September and this year at Little A's school, the theme was "Our Teachers, Our Heroes." I couldn't agree more.

Finland might have the best educational system in the world, but I believe teachers in Third World nations are far more deserving of accolades. Many of them have not had the opportunity of a first-class education, and can easily get jobs that pay much better at big corporations. Third World teachers, whether at public or private schools, are notoriously poorly paid, and to choose to become one is akin to entering into the Holy Orders.

People I have met in the corporate world who started out as teachers, or who still teach on the side, are some of the best people I know. They are good team players, good leaders, visionary and often rise up in the ranks quickly as a result of all this.

The admiration one might have for a regular teacher rachets up  exponentially on meeting a special needs teacher, particularly some of those Little A is fortunate to have at his school.

I was asked to give a brief welcome remarks at the school's Teacher's Day Celebration. I couldn't say much besides a heartfelt thank you to the teachers comprising the "village" that raises my child seven hours a day, five days a week for what will be thirteen years. Words, truly, aren't enough. I think they get the most satisfaction out of seeing results, and the hugs and smiles they get from non-verbal kids like Little A, who can show, without words, how grateful they are.

Literacy Week

The academic calendar at Little A's school is much fuller than my social one. They have an entire lineup for the year. Language Month, Grandparents' Day, Literacy Week, Halloween, Caregiver's Appreciation Day, and many more.

This week was Literacy Week. A mini book fair by a leading children's publisher took prime place in the school lobby, there were visits by character mascots, storytelling sessions, and Come As Your Favourite Book Character day. 

I worried that Little A would want to be an animal, as some of his most-loved stories feature anthropomorphic creatures. Olivia, Kipper, Animal Orchestra and Ruby the Musical Hamster sit at the foot of his bed for nighttime reading. 

True enough, on costume day, he picked an Animal Orchestra as his favourite book, but wanted to dress in his school uniform trousers. The quick thinking Au Pair grabbed his t-shirt that said "Rock Star", and I handed him a toy ukulele and the book about an imaginative boy who loved music. This was acceptable, and off he went.

At the Costume Parade were Fancy Nancy, Madeline, Tigger, Minnie Mouse and several more. Each took turns standing on stage while the other kids guessed who they were.

Little A stood proudly during his turn, after sitting quietly near the front for the early part. I was very pleased with his behavior, as it has been fairly consistent. 

Just a week prior, we attended a children's party. While Little A couldn't relate to nail art and feather boas the girls enjoyed, he sat in his place during the games without much complaint, and when Big A arrived towards the end of the evening moved to sit with him and his uncles, at the big people's table.

I am glad to see him participating more in group activities, and hope this continues. Next up, Halloween!

Astronaut Training

During the post-session reports after Little A's weekly occupational therapy sessions at school, the therapist always goes on about Astronaut Training. I honestly have no idea what this involves apart from slow, controlled spinning followed by weight bearing exercises, but this week we've been told to start doing it at home every day.

Every night for the past few weeks, I've found Little A hanging upside-down off the side of his bed, doing some sort of reverse sit-ups. I've never seen this done at therapy sessions so figure he must be taking care of some sensory need on his own, or just having fun as kids do.

At any rate, I need to buy a pair of 3 pound dumbells for him. In the meantime, he's been using a very heavy book to serve as his weight, carting it around the flat and lifting it over his head as I instruct him. Whether or not this will serve the same purpose, I've no idea. But it's good to improvise, and books are abundant in our house. 

The spinning part, I would love to know more about. (Though perhaps I could just Google that, because Wikipedia no doubt has something to say about this.) After spinning, a child's eye movements are observed, as neurotypical children get dizzy after such exercise and autistic children, less so. Or maybe it's the other way around. 

In ballet, early on, students are taught to focus on one point as they turn, whipping their head around at the last second to look at the spot again. This keeps us from getting dizzy and therefore allows one to do multiple turns easily. I was terrible at this, to my dismay, and turns were probably my weakest point as a dancer.

Maybe astronaut training would have helped me. Seeing as I'm thinking of signing up for an adult ballet class next month, perhaps I should ask Little A's OT about it. (Or, again, Google.) Who knows, perhaps in my middle age, I'll finally get around to doing those 32 fouettes.

Language Month

School has begun, and we snuck in a trip to the mountains during the first holiday weekend. Thankfully, no schooldays have yet been cancelled due to bad weather, something that happened quite frequently last year.

The campus on which Little A's school is situated has expanded to allow for all the new students and the new First Grade classes. He now has some classes upstairs and some in the old wing, downstairs. These days, he has taken to grabbing his backpack every time we go out, even if it's just to the supermarket. He keeps it on his back the entire time, even in the car.

He is also back to wearing school uniform, something that was not required during the summer session. While there are days he prefers the school t-shirt to the one with the collar, he dons the outfit without much complaint, looks at himself in the mirror while waiting for the lift to take us to the car, and carefully points out the school logo on his chest.

I've noted his schedule, the names of his teachers and his classmates. The size of the student body has more than doubled since last year, which is a good thing. There is a group of over a dozen "big|" boys, aged from 10-13, a handful of tiny Junior Preschoolers, half a dozen Kindergarteners and a dozen or so First Graders. Little A's class, for the first time since he started school at 2.5 years old, has more girls in it than boys.

The school's first major event was Language Month, in August. This typically culminates in a Filipino fiesta, when parents bring native foods, and the children dress in national costume.

Bad mum that I am, I didn't read the letter in full, and sent Little A off in regular clothes last Friday. When I saw all the other kids in Filipino costume, I rushed home and put something together for Little A, as the parents were invited to join the lunchtime gathering.

When I pulled Little A into the toilets to change him, I expected some resistance. But he quickly complied and put on his "farmer" outfit the minute I told him he'd need to wear the same thing as the other kids. Then he joined the little parade.

Hooray for small improvements! Next target, getting him into his Halloween costume in two months' time.

Party Time

One of the items on Little A's sensory integration checklist is to monitor he behaves at children's parties.

When he was 20 months old, we attended the first birthday party of one of my goddaughters. At the time, we had not yet been to a developmental pediatrician and had no formal ASD diagnosis.

The party was held at a restaurant, and, like most typical Filipino first birthday celebrations, it was crowded and very loud.

Little A was in his stroller, where he screamed and cried and wanted out of the room from the very moment we walked in. He spent about half an hour outside in the heat by the car, only to melt down again when he brought him back into the restaurant.

We ended up leaving that party early, but not before saying goodbye to the birthday family. As I wheeled Little A over to speak to the hosts, the birthday girl's grandmother pointedly remarked in a voice loud enough for me to hear, "That child needs to be assessed by a doctor."

I was insulted at the time, at her matter-of-fact delivery. Perhaps that was my denial stage. At any rate, this grandmother turned out to be right on the mark, as we discovered a few months later.

Fast forward six years and many birthday parties later. Some we attended without Little A, making the excuse that he was napping, or telling the truth that the surroundings and noise would overwhelm him. Some parties he attended, carefully selected ones in an outdoor venue or those without a party host screaming into a microphone. Most times he cried. Sometimes he adjusted after a while.

At his own birthdays he participated minimally, usually just at cake-blowing time. Almost every time, he would cover his ears for the duration of the party.

This year, though, he began leafing through our photo albums and pulling out photos of his birthday parties. He would select books about birthday parties, and watch videos over and over again of children's parties with singing and clapping.

He attended his cousin's party, cried during the noisy bit, but enjoyed after most of the guests had departed. At his party, he cried only when they sang the birthday song.

Party season is coming up as several of our goddaughters have birthdays one after the other, keeping our weekends full for an entire month. So far, he has attended two already without any crying. He doesn't join in the games and dancing, but he has been able to sit with the rest of the kids despite noise and tolerate the events for more than 10 minutes before retreating to a quiet corner. We consider this a huge improvement.

Two down, three to go. I hope that at the end of next month I am able to mark down on the sensory integration checklist that Little A has "mastered" the skill of attending a typical children's party.