Every person with a learning disability has challenges - things that don't come as easily for them as the average person. 2e kids, or twice exceptional people, have the added tension of being highly gifted, which can often mean assumptions about what test score you should get, how quickly you should learn, how you think of yourself compared to others, etc . . . This story adds yet another piece to the mix. What a beautifully written example!
http://christinefonseca.wordpress.com/2013/05/20/resolute/
Monday, May 20, 2013
Tuesday, May 7, 2013
When to filter - gambling
I am not a gambler, but I used to hit the casinos when I was younger. I am certain that overall, it will lead to losses consistently, since the casinos remain in business.
I do have to gamble regularly, however. I have to decide when and how much to filter my answers to people. I've heard many people use the term filter related to someone lacking tact or other similar things related to conversation. Well, I need that, but it goes a step further among our "special population" which is my daughter's favorite term for people like us.
Last weekend, I was at an event by myself, kidless, and among people who mostly don't know me. I was looking forward to a normal day, meaning without our special circumstances being part of it. No such luck.
I was scrapbooking, so inevitably, my daughter did come up in conversation. Some of the things in the pictures is entirely typical of her age and other parts are not. I enjoy having pictures of her being her own unique self, as most parents do. In the movie Good Will Hunting, Robin Williams' character says he loves that he knows his wife farts in her sleep because it's part of what makes her his wife - that he knows.
I remember a children's photographer from years ago talking about a photo shoot of a very young child who had been born with a partially formed hand. She remembered the mother being in tears with joy because the photographer had actually put the hand in the photographs, instead of avoiding it. At the time, I had no reason to suspect I would be the mother of an atypical child, but I still remember feeling sad for the mother dealing with avoidance from people, and I was proud of the photographer for being accepting and comfortable with the situation. Now, I remember that mother often, as I face the differences in my own child.
When someone asks a question like, "What grade is your daughter in" at times where I know it will reveal the abnormality of our situation, I have to take a gamble. Last weekend, I told them it was hard to know how much to say, and then asked if they really wanted to know. They did. Luckily, two women celebrated and marveled with me as different things came up with other pictures. There was conspicuous silence from others, but on this occasion, noone was outwardly ugly. I consider that a gamble that paid off. Maybe it's sad when mostly silence is considered payout, but . . . I will celebrate the positivity from a few and silence from the many.
I met another family this week with a mother who held her breath as a kindergarten-aged son brought a stack of chapter books into the room. I told the boy that I like that series and why in my best guess of an appropriate manner (age? intellect? I don't know, so I guessed), and the mom looked stunned. We then had a lovely conversation about how wonderful it is not to have to control the flinching instinct or stop our children from talking prematurely because of others' discomfort in those situations. I hope to see more of that family.
Wishing you a week of being accepting and of accepting others.
I do have to gamble regularly, however. I have to decide when and how much to filter my answers to people. I've heard many people use the term filter related to someone lacking tact or other similar things related to conversation. Well, I need that, but it goes a step further among our "special population" which is my daughter's favorite term for people like us.
Last weekend, I was at an event by myself, kidless, and among people who mostly don't know me. I was looking forward to a normal day, meaning without our special circumstances being part of it. No such luck.
I was scrapbooking, so inevitably, my daughter did come up in conversation. Some of the things in the pictures is entirely typical of her age and other parts are not. I enjoy having pictures of her being her own unique self, as most parents do. In the movie Good Will Hunting, Robin Williams' character says he loves that he knows his wife farts in her sleep because it's part of what makes her his wife - that he knows.
I remember a children's photographer from years ago talking about a photo shoot of a very young child who had been born with a partially formed hand. She remembered the mother being in tears with joy because the photographer had actually put the hand in the photographs, instead of avoiding it. At the time, I had no reason to suspect I would be the mother of an atypical child, but I still remember feeling sad for the mother dealing with avoidance from people, and I was proud of the photographer for being accepting and comfortable with the situation. Now, I remember that mother often, as I face the differences in my own child.
When someone asks a question like, "What grade is your daughter in" at times where I know it will reveal the abnormality of our situation, I have to take a gamble. Last weekend, I told them it was hard to know how much to say, and then asked if they really wanted to know. They did. Luckily, two women celebrated and marveled with me as different things came up with other pictures. There was conspicuous silence from others, but on this occasion, noone was outwardly ugly. I consider that a gamble that paid off. Maybe it's sad when mostly silence is considered payout, but . . . I will celebrate the positivity from a few and silence from the many.
I met another family this week with a mother who held her breath as a kindergarten-aged son brought a stack of chapter books into the room. I told the boy that I like that series and why in my best guess of an appropriate manner (age? intellect? I don't know, so I guessed), and the mom looked stunned. We then had a lovely conversation about how wonderful it is not to have to control the flinching instinct or stop our children from talking prematurely because of others' discomfort in those situations. I hope to see more of that family.
Wishing you a week of being accepting and of accepting others.
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