Archive for the ‘speech’ Tag
September 13 2011
I took the kids to school early since there was a Problem-Solving Meeting scheduled to discuss Buzz. It was a formal discussion with a table full of different teachers, their laptops open, ready to explain the many evaluations that were soon to take place as we forge ahead to the next stage of an IEP. All in an effort to obtain the additional help my son needs, since his speech delay can now safely be classified as a communication disorder.
It was difficult to get to the group, however, as my son had a grip around my leg and wouldn’t let go.
The time came for the meeting to begin, and as I peeked in on the room where it was to take place, I saw Buzz’s kindergarten teacher waving me in. I must have shot her a look, because she stepped out to evaluate the situation at hand.
Taking notice of what I was dealing with, the teacher instructed me to lead him into his classroom where one of her assistants were waiting. Which would have been a wonderful idea, he’s been there for 3 weeks now and it’s familiar with toys!, save for the fact that my child had removed himself from me and was now hunkered down under a cafeteria table, in tears.
Nope. Nothing to see here. Not at all.
“I see they marked ‘separation from parent’ as another problem”, the Life Skills Superintendent read when I finally made it in after literally dragging my son to his classroom by the hand, then turning my back without a second look while he cried for me to come back.
“Yeah”, I agreed. “I think we still need to work on that, too.”
July 18 2011
Dear Buzz’s speech therapists,
First of all, let me start off by saying how much I appreciate the work you’ve put into my son. I can tell how much he enjoys his sessions with you. He bounces a bit more heartily on speech class days. When we pull into the driveway, he practically jumps out of his carseat. Buzz can be a difficult child to manage, you don’t have to tell me twice, and I applaud your good-humored patience for not being related to him.
While he is only in your company for 45 minutes a week, I can sense the dedication and resolve to give him the help necessary to catch up to his peers. Which is really what we all want. When it comes down to it, I don’t want anything more than for him to be a normal 5 year old boy. It’s a simple goal that seems rather large some days.
That said, I believe your time together is paying off. Whether as a result of his weekly classes or more an advance in age is difficult to gauge, but nevertheless, your services have shown a definite improvement. While he is still nowhere near where he should be, he is speaking more clearly and in longer structured sentences. Just the other night, for example, as I was giving him a goodnight kiss as we do so sweetly at every bedtime, he roared across my cheek 5 words, strung together like a champ.
“Don’t EVER kiss me AGAIN.”
His proper use of inflection was notably remarkable.
Job well done.
Sincerely,
Buzz’s mom (who is going to continue kissing him whether he likes it or not)
January 12 2011
4 year old Buzz’s speech progress is only a little above 2 year old Abby’s. The difference being I can already have a simple conversation with Abby, where Buzz mostly repeats what we’ve already said to him with a few of his own thoughts scattered in. In any case, it’s interesting having 2 kids learn to talk in their own way at roughly the same time.
Let’s just say, you can’t get away with anything around here.
Some days back, I had my mother come by to watch the kids while I ran a few errands. When I returned, I heard that Buzz had been his usual self. “Grandma put him in time out”, Jedi informed as soon as I walked in. Good luck with that, I thought.
“He’s a handful”, my mom told me as she bolted for her coat, not really taking the time to get into specifics before fleeing for her life out the door.
Then, Sunday night, more than a week after the fact, I was putting Buzz to bed when, after saying our good nights, he reprimanded, “Don’t touch my glasses!”. But he doesn’t wear glasses and neither do I. The only ones who wears glasses are my parents.
The following morning, I called my mom. “Let me guess, when you were watching the kids last week, you had to tell Buzz to stop messing with your glasses.”
She laughed, “I did, quite a few times. How did you know?”.
No, I don’t have psychic powers. You just can’t get away with anything around here.
December 21 2010
Buzz finally had his occupational therapy evaluation, beginning the effort to ready him for kindergarten next year. Most of the activities he succeeded well enough at. He has trouble paying attention and it’s a lot of work to get him to follow directions, but his motor skills have never been a problem. She asked him to copy what she drew, and he did. He stacked blocks and threaded beads, all with ease.
Then came the scissors.
Apparently, kids are supposed to know how to use scissors by age 3. Really? Is giving a 3 year old a pair of scissors really a good idea? I was shocked when I heard this before at Jedi’s school registration this past fall and I’m still shocked. A 3 year old, or even 4? With scissors? That’s just crazy.
The therapist handed him a pair of safety scissors, though, and I wasn’t expecting much. But it only took a few seconds for him to get the motion down before he was slicing his way through a piece of paper.
“Very good!”, she encouraged. “You’re really good with those.”
Yes, he was. Possibly too good for comfort. If I wasn’t keeping him away from scissors before, I definitely am now. Lest all his hair be chopped in patches, my curtains shorn to shreds, and my favorite sweater nothing but strips of fuzzy fabric. Because safety in regards to scissors is a misnomer when it comes to a boisterous, and clearly capable, 4 year old.
October 28 2010
Buzz is a rambunctious sort of fellow. I’ve mentioned this before, it’s nothing new. I truly don’t believe he’s a devil-child, even though I’ve called him that before. He’s curious and testing. He wants to be everywhere, get into everything, he doesn’t mind a word I say. It’s difficult to get him focused, it’s even harder to keep his attention.
To be honest, I’m not sure if this is just a trait of 4 year old’s, or if it only seems worse because it’s my son. Except I don’t see any of the other neighborhood kids his age dart off into the middle of the street and away from their flailing mothers, is what I’m saying.
He’s the same way at his speech class. His teacher tries to get him involved in a game, and he’d rather climb into their toy cabinet. She wants him to relay the actions of flash cards, but he’s already distracted by a bucket of crayons. He gets a puzzle out, only to be done with it two seconds later.
His teacher is a nice girl, she never gets loud or seems impatient with him. They play together well, and Buzz is excited to see her. But he doesn’t learn a lot this way. He’s such a sweet, good boy when he wants to be. That’s the thing, though. When he wants to be.
The last time we were there, she mentioned, “I was thinking, maybe it’d be good to get an Occupational Therapist in here, to asses his needs. Maybe they can come up with ways to get him to focus more?”
What I heard: “Your kid is too much and I need help.”
I don’t blame her. In fact, I’m actually surprised it took this long. Most days, I feel like I’d appreciate some help with him, too.
