Preschool Beginnings

As I sit here drinking warm cider about to bite into a powdery donut that will be entirely too messy for a blog post, I still find it hard to believe that I have a preschooler.

Nervous, anxious, and excited about Marty's first day months beforehand, it had finally arrived last Monday. The previous day I had set out his first day of school clothes--an adorable orange, blue and white button-down mint-condition find from a garage sale down the street paired with a dark blue tee and dark blue jeans. I had planned to spike his freshly cut hair. Add to that sweet package his brand new, glistening Mickey Mouse backpack and he was certain to steal hearts walking through the doors that day. I was so excited to take a picture of him on his first day of school; it was going to be great! I just knew I would break down crying as I left him with his teacher and his new class so I had asked a friend to meet me outside for moral support and to help me with my little one waiting in the car.

Before...

However, the first day of school started out nothing like I had envisioned it. I tried to spike Marty's hair and he would have none of it, slapping his head and patting it down after getting it just right. Once or twice I had to fix it but he would run away upset and dive into the arm chair, flattening it worse than before. Then it was time to go and I had to pull him away from a toy he was intently playing with. You would've thought I cut his arm off because a massive melt-down erupted complete with headbanging against the floor and wall (not me, although...). My picture-perfect moment turned into a ridiculous battle of will. I simply gave up after attempting to get him to "smile for the camera"--which was just not going to happen. Defeated physically and emotionally, I nearly melted into the drivers seat and simply prayed for God to just "help." Walking Marty into school produced no relief as I tried to sit him with his class in the hallway and he decided that was also not in his morning plans. I left him to sit with his teacher who assured me he would do great.

...after!

 Where were the bittersweet tears about my baby, my firstborn, going off to school without me? I was too worn out to cry and if I were to have had any tears that morning they would've been tears of frustration, not joy. After that sort of morning, I needed a little break! A coffee run and some retail therapy was in order.

I was ready to pick up my boy and hear about his day.  Hopefully I would find him better off than I left him. His teacher was right, he did just fine complete with good listening skills! We took his first day photo at the end of the day, where he proudly displayed hi backpack for the camera.

Good reports kept coming about how he was getting more used to the routine at school, which of course made me feel more at ease. At the end of the week I had dropped him off just as his class was getting ready to go to their room. He looked a little unsure about joining them as I left. I hoped he would walk nicely for them and not do one of his sit-and-stay protests in the middle of the hallway, so I emailed the teacher to be sure. She reported back that he joined the class walking rope with no problem, found his cubby in the room and unloaded his backpack and got ready for breakfast.

The tears finally came. My little boy was growing up!

I knew he would do good in preschool and I was excited he was taking to it so quickly. The results were evident at home to, when I didn't have to tell him to put his shoes away or where his backpack goes.

I am still anxious about potty training, cup drinking (and by the way, his preschool teacher welcomed his sippy cup with no problem whatsoever), counting, ABC's and the like. I am afraid of the testing and what placement he will have at the end of the school year. I am hoping his peers will spur him on  and teach him what they know while also learning a great deal from him. I heard his class coming down the hallway to drop him off to me and his little classmates were calling his name, encouraging him to hold on to the walking rope.

My prayer is that preschool will challenge him reach up to the next level of learning and he will have fun while doing it. I expect great reports in the months to come and look forward to seeing how he's changed and grown by the end of the year.~*

God Allows Sippy Cups in Heaven

"Disabled."

The term can seem like Mt. Everest to a mother of a child with special needs.  It also puts the focus on performance.  If you can get your child to show off their abilities in public they wouldn't be rendered "disabled" anymore.  So we strive to make them better at walking, talking, eating--anything to be "normal"; to fit in.  But can you erase a "disability" by acquiring skills?  Is that really important?

This past week my pastor gave a sermon on how performance-driven our society is and how value is attributed to those who perform well.  But the truth of the matter is that this is not how God operates in His love for us (hallelujah) nor how we should choose to operate in our love with each other.  Value should never be attributed to someone's abilities to perform--because it will truly never be enough.

At my previous job, we were told not just to work with the "fun" kids--the kids who are cute and playful, who we are naturally drawn to.  Because all kids of all abilities need love and attention, not just the "fun" ones.

An article in our local Down syndrome group's newsletter cautioned parents about bragging about all the wonderful things their child can do because it is important to be sensitive to those parents who's child may be lower functioning. The truth is that all children with Down syndrome are special, not just the one's who master many things.

Down syndrome is considered a disability.  My son is categorized as "disabled" despite the fact that he has many abilities.  And just because my son can walk and use a spoon doesn't make his diagnosis go away.  No matter what skills he will acquire in his lifetime, he will always have Down syndrome.  It cannot be erased and nor do I care for it to be so.  My love for him isn't based on what he can and cannot do.

Skills are great.  They make life easier to navigate and helps our child become a more independent and confident little person.  We love when Marty learns something new.  We're excited as we cheer him on as if he has just won an Olympic medal.  We foster an environment for learning, giving him plenty of opportunities to try new things but every milestone he accomplishes is in his own time and way.  We cannot speed up his learning process by force (in fact, he regresses if we push to hard for something).  It doesn't work.  We've learned that he learns through steady plodding, repetition, trial and error.  He can sense an adult's agenda when it interrupts the fun play-learning he's having and responds with his version of "no thanks."  So we use unconventional ways to teach him and while it may take some time for him to have that "ah-ha" moment where things click in his mind, he learns--and has fun while doing it.  On many levels he is just a typical kid but we also take an altered approach when it comes to teaching him things.  We respect his pace and meet him where he is at, cheer when he does accomplish a difficult task and always remember to say "thank you" for his help.  And what child--typical or not--wouldn't benefit from a learning experience like that?

Yet our goal isn't to get him to perform many skills to be "normal."  The fact is he's not "normal."  He's extraordinary.  So our goal isn't normalcy, but raising an extraordinary man of integrity who loves people and loves God.  We hope he learns who Jesus is by the way that we treat him, in how we love and teach him and then turn and show that love to the world himself.  Marty cannot say his ABC's, but he is a good friend.  He doesn't know how to jump, but he has incredible discernment on giving the best hugs at the right moment.  He drinks from a sippy cup (like most 2 1/2 year-olds anyway) and he loves his family.  Those are things that matter most us and what I believe matters most to God.

So if Marty never learns to drink from a cup or a straw?  Who cares.  Our focus is on more eternal things, and God allows sippy cups in heaven.

Mom Knows Best

There are articles in parenting magazines and on online forums entitled "What Every Teacher Would Like Parents to Know."  The article gives some insights from teachers about information they believe will help the parent-teacher and teacher-child dynamic, making all parties involved happy.

Parent/Teacher roles can sometimes get confused with regards to the student.  For instance, a teacher can assume they know the student better than their parent.  Parents might be written off as seeing their child through rose-colored glasses or simply being out-of-touch with their child.

Here is what every good parent would like their child's teacher to know: we know what's best for our kids.  We may not have degrees that say so, but it's true.  It's also common sense.  A teacher who spends only a small portion of time with the child is not qualified to instruct the parent on what is best for that child.  Sure, teachers can offer insights and ideas, but they never trump the parents insights or ideas because instinctively a good parent has their child's best interest in mind.

And just because there is a degree that goes along with a title does not make a teacher qualified in all aspects of that profession. There are qualities in a good teacher that they don't give degrees for.  And if those qualities are lacking you can be assured that my child will not be in your care.  I run this interview process--and mom knows best.

Pasta Wheels: Ingredient for Success

Making Marty feel successful will determine his future attempts of working on a skill.  We are working on using a fork lately. For a child with low tone, stabbing into anything with strong enough force so that it stays in place long enough to make it to his mouth is a challenge.

Marty currently uses scooping motions with his fork which, doesn't exactly work out well with most fork-foods.  But making him feel successful with a fork in hand is the key--not the forking skill itself.  That will develop over time.  I am more concerned about him being comfortable using a utensil other than a spoon, being OK with a pronged apparatus in his mouth verses a smooth, round one. So what do we eat successfully with a fork then? I give you the pasta wheel!

Design makes it easy to catch on a fork--and it's fun!