Speleen test

My son is 'integrated' into his school classroom. Hmmm, sounds rather like a piece of equipment; bolted onto a machine. It's old news that he is 'integrated' into his school; but every once in a while it just hits me again how bloody low the bar is set for him. His little log book from the classroom aide reports that his task at school today was to give the spelling words to the other kids for a spelling test. THis means that someone else recorded the words into a computer, he hits his head on the button (I think, or maybe they held his hand and hit the button with his hand) and the word is blurted out for the OTHER STUDENTS to do their chores. Holy smokes, is that what my boy is worth in the classroom? He helps the other kids practice spelling, yet noone is asking him to try to speak, or use his hands? Only conductors have touched that path with him. Sigh. I could just pull my hair out, but then my hair wouldn't be 'integrated' with my scalp anymore. And my goodness, what would the ears and forehead think? Scandalous. Just plane skandullis.

The Mighty Mighty Bosstones

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xol2MM_PCTU Sometimes, modern music hits it on the head; I guess they do so for everyone now and then. These guys from Boston, the "Bosstones" the Mighty Mighty Bosstones wrote this number, "The Impression that I Get" and it hits me right there. Great song. Just the impression that I get.

Think I missed a moment. . .

So there we were yesterday at church. Blue and I were returning to Roxy and our wooden bench. Out in the hallway area, I was scooting along in front of him on my custom-made 'scooter stool.' He was stepping nicely. I was helping him shift his weight. Lo and behold, here comes a group of children from their mini-service on their way back to their parents. Well, as is usual, all the children stared, silent, at Blue and I making our way. I have come to learn to ignore these stares. Not much I can do about it, and I have to concentrate on Blue anyway. But this time, one of the church ladies had the smarts to say, "He's practicing walking. Good job. You're doing great."

This so confused me that I didn't look or say anything, but for the first time in years it seemed that someone broke the silence with music. It was a prime opportunity to say at least thanks, or something; but the callous in my brain is too thick.

I'm going to have to find that lady and say something. I didn't even think to look at Blue's face to see if he was proud or happy about the remark. I was just watching his legs and torso as always: step, straighten, shift. Step, straighten, sheesh!

Islands.

There are certain groups of folks whose status never changes in my life: old friends, family of course, and my fellow CE parents. It doesn't matter how long it's been; we can always understand each other. I recently had the great pleasure of inviting one of my CE friends to come play hockey with my Saturday night hockey crowd. He was available, and he came to score a whole bunch of goals as we looked on enviously.

Of course, afterward is the best time; and we discovered that neither of us has given up an inch (or a centimetre as it were, in Canada) in the battle to keep conductivity alive for our boys. There's a tonne of respect in that exchange in that stinky room with hockey equipment piled in the bags and a cold barley sandwich shared among friends.

Sure, the olympics are starting next week; but we're always thinking conductive education. Oh, Canada. . . we'll just see.

To blog or to pee, that is the drizzle of my drift.

There is so little happening out here for CE (at least in my world) that I don't know what in the heck to say sometimes. Is 'blogging worth it? I think yes, when I read Susie Mallet's story of the "Littlie" in the washroom. Andrew has a pretty good story somewhat approximating the washroom as well. Hey, now there's an idea. Perhaps blogging about the washroom is just the thing to do. How about this. There is a large .... aww, nevermind. The thought was completely lost because my son (who I thought was having a nap) called to me, and I discovered that he needed to go "have a whiz." Thus ends my bathroom story for the day. Next, he wants to go to his ladder and do 'stand-uppies.' (Or at least he smiled at the suggestion to do so.) 'Stand-uppies' are very specialized activities only understood by specialists who specialize in specialities. They are impossible to explain here.

Last night's entertainment...

Along the lines of reinvent and reuse, I had the fun job last night of rearranging a few straps, buckles, and solid metal braces in my boy's specially-adapted van. The objective was to make space for his comfy car seat and a few other accoutrements as well as having the ramp opened up for the wheelchair. Now Blue has the option to walk up the ramp himself and climb into his car seat; his wheelchair being rolled in after, empty. I find it's more and more interesting as the years go by; reason being that it's not simply a new idea, but rather an old habit being reworked and brought forward into the new elements of Blue's day-to-day life.
He will have to see again that there are several ways to get into his van. He will be invited to choose the way he wants. Roxy and I (and Jesusa, his "worker") all have the opportunity now to enjoy sharing this learning and choosing with him. Keeping him on his feet, encouraging him to exercise and participate; it's not our job as caregivers. It's a family venture shared by ALL of us as learners and inventors. Children playing a new game each day.

Haiti, Lizzie, and Darcy.

I have a little photo on my blog here, captioned,"Lizzie on the up and up." The conductor is Zsuzsanna Balogh of Hungary; the lady on the other side of the ladder is a B.C. resident, from Saskatchewan that glorious prairie province that creates Canada's heartiest folks. Darcy Schille is a Canadian-trained nurse who adopted Lizzie from an orphanage in Haiti. That's right, Haiti. And this amazing woman sought out CE for Lizzie after Lizzie joined her family in Canada. Turns out Lizzie was part of an organization called "God's Littlest Angels" in Haiti. That is where Roxy and I are going to donate some cash toward Haiti's rebuilding. Darcy, Lizzie and a bunch of other stupendous persons I have had the honour of meeting keep the fires burning for me out here on the rainy west coast.