Post by LeMira
This morning was another reminder of how out of tune I am sometimes with my son. This morning we had to go back to the school (he's been out for a week) for post-assessment with his Kindergarten teacher, his special ed. teachers, and the school counselor. After breakfast he went to his room for a few minutes, and then emerged and announced to me, "Mom, I can't get dressed."
I looked at him and told him, "You can do this. Go pick out some clothes."
A few minutes later the same thing happened, but this time, he was more frustrated. "Mom, I can't get dressed! I need you to do it for me. I opened the dresser."
At this point, I was confused, but also frustrated. I tried to be in tune to him, and I started asking him what to do first, second, etc. He responded, "Mom, I know that, but I can't do it. You need to come to my room."
I responded, "Yes you can; you're seven. Just go get dressed. Tell yourself, 'I can do it.'" Ten more minutes passed, and he came and sat next to me on the couch in his underwear. This time he was sobbing, "Mom, I can't get dressed."
I exhaled and followed him to his room. "I can't understand what's going on this morning." When I got to his room, the bells finally went off in my head. There it was. He had found a red polo shirt -- a school uniform shirt -- but couldn't find any school uniform pants. I had taken the pants and turned them in for the uniform exchange since he'll outgrow them by the end of the summer. He knew he had to go to school, but he didn't understand that he didn't need his uniform. He was confused at what to do. I was upset with myself for not catching on earlier and for dismissing his frustration. This entire episode took 40 minutes. I should have gone in earlier.
This dilemma reminded me that I have a good kid. If he says he "can't" do something, sometimes it's because he doesn't understand or something's confusing, and he doesn't have the words to tell me. Once in a while it's that he won't do something, or that the task is overwhelming, but a lot of times it's that he doesn't understand. Today was a reminder that I need to check out a situation before I just push him.
Showing posts with label language delay. Show all posts
Showing posts with label language delay. Show all posts
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Communication Error (by LeMira)
Think of the last conversation you had that made you frustrated. What made you frustrated about that conversation? Were you trying to make a point, teach someone a concept, or give someone instructions? Were they just not getting it? Or did you just feel like the other person wasn't listening? Did you feel like you were talking to a brick wall? Did you get a blank stare in return? When the person did respond, did he make sense?
Communication continually is a problem, a road block. Most of my frustrations are because I feel like I'm being ignored. I lose my temper because I feel like my son responds in slow motion or that I have to repeat myself five times, if not more, to be understood or heeded. I hang my head in shame at the times that I've yelled because he just didn't move fast enough.
It's so easy to get caught up in how something affects me, that my life is being disrupted or put in slow motion, but what about him? I've been thinking about his side of things, and maybe this is how he sees it.
Scenario 1: Imagine you're working on a project. You're so engrossed that you've blocked out the world. Vaguely, you hear background noise, but it isn't related to what you're doing, so you push it out. You're shaken out of your world as you hear your name screamed at you. Your mom says, "I've called you three times, you need to listen when I'm talking to you!" You hang your head in shame and apologize for not hearing her, but you're more frustrated that you were expected to respond when you had no idea you were wanted.
Scenario 2: You climb into the car after school, and you know what mom is going to ask, and so you say, "I had a good day at school today. I had fun." You expect this to deflect her questions because you offered it first. Mom then asks, "What did you learn in math?" Immediately you think of your teacher and the classroom. You think about the worksheet and that your aide helped you with the guided practice. Mom tries to prompt you with questions about adding and subtracting, but you're confused. What is she asking? You might even remember your teacher working problems on the board, but you can't remember what she called it. Your mom asks again, and you realize she needs an answer now. "I don't know," you say. The words are jumbled in your head.
When you try to tell her about recess and what you played, you can't remember the name of the friends you played with or that one thing you did. You can see it in your mind, but you can't remember what it's called. Instead you say, "We had three recesses today."
Homework is a nightmare. You read the words, but you don't know what they mean, and you don't know how to ask what it means. Your mom is reading it to you, but you don't understand that one word. She doesn't explain it the same way the teacher does. In class, you had to use a green crayon, but your homework says to use a yellow crayon; it's not the same. Mom is trying to explain it, but she's going too fast and her voice is getting louder. There are so many problems on the page. It's now 4:15, you'll never get done by 4:30. "I can't do this!" you shout.
As his mom, I'm realizing more and more that I have to slow down, be patient. He is trying, he really is. Some days I'm worn out from saying things five different ways until he understands. I want him to understand me the first time. The more I lose my temper, the more he does. He reacts the way I do based on his observations of me -- because that's the way he learns his social interactions. Some days, I'm looking into a mirror and listening to a recording of myself. It's not pretty.
However, there is hope. He is getting better, and so am I. Instead of rushing him or getting angry when he can't recall a word, I try to prompt him or wait patiently. He gets frustrated easily because he knows he's not fast enough, but I'm learning to give him time and not make him panic. The words are there, and I know how frustrating it is for him to have blank spots for simple words like "car" or "party." These are words he knows, but somehow he blanks out. If I'm always getting angry, he'll never have the confidence that he can do it, and he'll always think that he can't do it or that it's too hard.
As in everything with my son, I have to give him time, and not my timetable, but his. And that is the hardest part for me.
Communication continually is a problem, a road block. Most of my frustrations are because I feel like I'm being ignored. I lose my temper because I feel like my son responds in slow motion or that I have to repeat myself five times, if not more, to be understood or heeded. I hang my head in shame at the times that I've yelled because he just didn't move fast enough.
It's so easy to get caught up in how something affects me, that my life is being disrupted or put in slow motion, but what about him? I've been thinking about his side of things, and maybe this is how he sees it.
Scenario 1: Imagine you're working on a project. You're so engrossed that you've blocked out the world. Vaguely, you hear background noise, but it isn't related to what you're doing, so you push it out. You're shaken out of your world as you hear your name screamed at you. Your mom says, "I've called you three times, you need to listen when I'm talking to you!" You hang your head in shame and apologize for not hearing her, but you're more frustrated that you were expected to respond when you had no idea you were wanted.
Scenario 2: You climb into the car after school, and you know what mom is going to ask, and so you say, "I had a good day at school today. I had fun." You expect this to deflect her questions because you offered it first. Mom then asks, "What did you learn in math?" Immediately you think of your teacher and the classroom. You think about the worksheet and that your aide helped you with the guided practice. Mom tries to prompt you with questions about adding and subtracting, but you're confused. What is she asking? You might even remember your teacher working problems on the board, but you can't remember what she called it. Your mom asks again, and you realize she needs an answer now. "I don't know," you say. The words are jumbled in your head.
When you try to tell her about recess and what you played, you can't remember the name of the friends you played with or that one thing you did. You can see it in your mind, but you can't remember what it's called. Instead you say, "We had three recesses today."
Homework is a nightmare. You read the words, but you don't know what they mean, and you don't know how to ask what it means. Your mom is reading it to you, but you don't understand that one word. She doesn't explain it the same way the teacher does. In class, you had to use a green crayon, but your homework says to use a yellow crayon; it's not the same. Mom is trying to explain it, but she's going too fast and her voice is getting louder. There are so many problems on the page. It's now 4:15, you'll never get done by 4:30. "I can't do this!" you shout.
As his mom, I'm realizing more and more that I have to slow down, be patient. He is trying, he really is. Some days I'm worn out from saying things five different ways until he understands. I want him to understand me the first time. The more I lose my temper, the more he does. He reacts the way I do based on his observations of me -- because that's the way he learns his social interactions. Some days, I'm looking into a mirror and listening to a recording of myself. It's not pretty.
However, there is hope. He is getting better, and so am I. Instead of rushing him or getting angry when he can't recall a word, I try to prompt him or wait patiently. He gets frustrated easily because he knows he's not fast enough, but I'm learning to give him time and not make him panic. The words are there, and I know how frustrating it is for him to have blank spots for simple words like "car" or "party." These are words he knows, but somehow he blanks out. If I'm always getting angry, he'll never have the confidence that he can do it, and he'll always think that he can't do it or that it's too hard.
As in everything with my son, I have to give him time, and not my timetable, but his. And that is the hardest part for me.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Homework
A Post By LeMira
I decided to keep J.R. in Kindergarten this year due to his social and language delays. So far, I feel very good about it. I also chose to put him in a charter school. Overall, I'm happy with that decision, although there are some major disadvantages there (i.e., the lack of speech therapy that he really needs). The biggest advantages are that he is able to go to first grade for math, and his Kindergarten teacher tries really hard to help him with his math page each day afterward. She really makes an effort to help him out and give him individualized attention. J.R. was doing Kindergarten math, but it was too easy for him. Homework lasted five minutes, which I think isn't bad for Kindergarten; however, he was getting nothing out of it. First Grade math seems to be on his instructional level, which all teachers know is exactly where you want them to be.
(Quick lesson in teacher lingo. There are three basic levels when it comes to a student's learning.
Too Hard= Frustration Level. At this level, you know you need to take a step back. The child is so frustrated and confused that absolutely no learning is happening.
Just Right = Instructional Level. The Instructional Level is the one where the child is learning and it may seem a little hard, but with some practice it becomes easy. Homework and classroom work should be at the instructional level.
Easy= Independent Level. Kids should be reading books at home at the Independent Level. Kids are who being taught too much at this level are bored with school, usually. You find most of your "troublemakers" at school are the ones stuck in the frustration and independent levels.)
Sooo. . . back to J.R. Once he started bringing home First Grade work, there was a huge jump in how long it took him to do homework. We spend at least 30 minutes, four days a week, doing homework. As a teacher, I might think this means it's at a frustration level because a First Grader or Kindergartner should be spending roughly 10-15 minutes a night on homework, not 30. The thing is, as his parent, I know this is just right for him. Why does it take so long? He doesn't understand the instructions or what the problem is asking. It's his language delay. It takes me three to five attempts to explain the problem/instructions just the right way so he will understand. Perhaps one day I will find that "one way," but I don't think I'm catching on.
When I first told J.R.'s teacher about his homework, she was surprised at how long we were spending. . . until I explained why. She understood completely because she experiences the same type of thing with him in class. The biggest difference is that he doesn't fight her. He always fights me. Always. Every day I hear, "I can't do this. It's frustrating." Without fail, I will hear that phrase at least once (if I'm lucky it's only once.) I admit that I'm glad that he chooses to fight me and not his teachers, but some days I can't hold back, and I join the fight; which only makes it worse. The thing is, I know that I get to look forward to this for the next twelve years.
I decided to keep J.R. in Kindergarten this year due to his social and language delays. So far, I feel very good about it. I also chose to put him in a charter school. Overall, I'm happy with that decision, although there are some major disadvantages there (i.e., the lack of speech therapy that he really needs). The biggest advantages are that he is able to go to first grade for math, and his Kindergarten teacher tries really hard to help him with his math page each day afterward. She really makes an effort to help him out and give him individualized attention. J.R. was doing Kindergarten math, but it was too easy for him. Homework lasted five minutes, which I think isn't bad for Kindergarten; however, he was getting nothing out of it. First Grade math seems to be on his instructional level, which all teachers know is exactly where you want them to be.
(Quick lesson in teacher lingo. There are three basic levels when it comes to a student's learning.
Too Hard= Frustration Level. At this level, you know you need to take a step back. The child is so frustrated and confused that absolutely no learning is happening.
Just Right = Instructional Level. The Instructional Level is the one where the child is learning and it may seem a little hard, but with some practice it becomes easy. Homework and classroom work should be at the instructional level.
Easy= Independent Level. Kids should be reading books at home at the Independent Level. Kids are who being taught too much at this level are bored with school, usually. You find most of your "troublemakers" at school are the ones stuck in the frustration and independent levels.)
Sooo. . . back to J.R. Once he started bringing home First Grade work, there was a huge jump in how long it took him to do homework. We spend at least 30 minutes, four days a week, doing homework. As a teacher, I might think this means it's at a frustration level because a First Grader or Kindergartner should be spending roughly 10-15 minutes a night on homework, not 30. The thing is, as his parent, I know this is just right for him. Why does it take so long? He doesn't understand the instructions or what the problem is asking. It's his language delay. It takes me three to five attempts to explain the problem/instructions just the right way so he will understand. Perhaps one day I will find that "one way," but I don't think I'm catching on.
When I first told J.R.'s teacher about his homework, she was surprised at how long we were spending. . . until I explained why. She understood completely because she experiences the same type of thing with him in class. The biggest difference is that he doesn't fight her. He always fights me. Always. Every day I hear, "I can't do this. It's frustrating." Without fail, I will hear that phrase at least once (if I'm lucky it's only once.) I admit that I'm glad that he chooses to fight me and not his teachers, but some days I can't hold back, and I join the fight; which only makes it worse. The thing is, I know that I get to look forward to this for the next twelve years.
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