Resiliency during Mr. Toad's Wild Ride

I want to THANK all the people who have worked tirelessly to keep us safe (firefighters, police, EMS, tree cutters, etc.) and warm (electric and gas company workers).

The week began uneventfully. I prepared two posts for the blog carnival: one on Sunday and one on Monday. I hosted the blog carnival on Tuesday. Pamela and I attended school like we always do. Our headmaster (also a volunteer firefighter) called off school because of Winter Storm Pax, which seemed scarier than Leon. The governor urged everyone to stay home. They were right. Early Wednesday morning, someone in our county died in a car accident.

While everything looked sparkly and lovely with an icy glaze, I worried about the power. My folks had gone several days without it in the ice storm here back in 2001. I headed out to take pictures for Steve and posted them before we lost power. It rained and sleeted off and on all day. David cleaned the tub and filled it with water for the toilet. I filled jugs with fresh water for us to drink. Then, we waited.


When lights flickered that evening, Pamela turned off the ceiling fan lights (4 bulbs) and turned on the desk lamp to dim. She explained, "I don't waste power." Her thoughtfulness impressed me, and I posted a note about it on Facebook. At about ten o'clock, we heard a tremendous crash. Pamela woke up and asked me, "What happened?" My favorite branch had bit the dust (sniff, sniff). Then, we all went to bed warm and cozy, and the temperatures dipped below freezing.

At 1:30 AM, I woke up to the Amityville Horror in my house!

The blue LED light of my alarm clock was blinking madly. The smoke detector was beeping at odd intervals. The house alarm system randomly cut on and off. A bright orange glow blazed eerily through my window. I grabbed a shawl and ran out to the front porch to see wild sparks and a grass fire along the telephone pole in my neighbor's yard. My dad told me later that he saw it through his bedroom window and thought he was dreaming that his front porch was on fire. I shivered in my socks and jammies and watched to make sure the ice would prevent it from spreading. Pamela popped her head out and asked, "Is the power off?" I told her, "Not yet."

Once everything looked safe, I ran inside to wake up David. I grabbed my cell phone and we watched a spark that flashed between blue and orange travel down the power line. Here is a short clip (turn up the volume to hear the crackle). These are the last dying breaths of our power.

We heard a terrific BOOM. The sparking stopped. We had no power. The next morning we figured out that a tree branch had smashed the light bulb of the street light and caused the light show. We headed back into the house. David used his new iPod as a flashlight and I looked up the number for the power company in the phone book. Since Duke bought Progressive Energy recently, I couldn't find the phone number. We bundled up and went back to bed.

The most amazing thing about that night was that Pamela didn't freak out. In spite of the noise and the fire and the loss of power, she didn't cry and she didn't scream. She saw that I was calm and that her brother was calm and that our neighbors across the street were calm. She borrowed our perspective and didn't lose her cool.

Do you know how amazing that is for an autistic person?

We woke up the next morning (Thursday). Pamela wasn't upset nor did she cry about the loss of power or the lack of electronics. At some point, she had rummaged through kitchen drawers and pulled out two flashlights for me. The house was very cold, but the thermostat had reached rock bottom. I found the thermometer we use for science and discovered that room temperature was 50°! I headed outside to assess the damage and take more pictures.



Until you've been through an ice storm without power, you have no idea how eerie it is. Dead silence. Totally cut off from the world. Silence broken by the branches cracking, which sounds just like gunshots. Sirens blaring down the road. Heavy vehicles rumbling past to help someone in need. Melting ice sliding off the metal roof and hitting the windows.

I decided to keep warm by cleaning house since Steve was due to arrive the next day. I had a pile of laundry to fold, dusted, and worked on the floors. David woke up at around eleven and said, "That's weird. I'm picking up Opa's wireless." When offered the chance to hang out at her grandparent's house, she refused. I took a break at one point and enjoyed a cup of coffee before heading back to Planet Hoth. At about one, we decided to find some hot food. Hardly anything was open and what was open had Soviet Union style lines. I managed to order a delicious meal for us, only to learn that they couldn't take credit cards. An hour later, we came home with groceries from The Pig.

Pamela got a little upset at one or two times, but she did well in the face of so much uncertainty. She consoled herself in the car by comparing the situation to history. "No power. Just like cavemen." "I pretend to be Ma and Laura." "Knights had no power." When we heard a favorite composer, she'd say, "Mozart had no electricity." I was so impressed with how much self-regulation and resiliency she displayed in the face of adversity.

I cleaned until sundown, and the thermometer was at 46° when I left. Miraculously, my folks still had power. Mom offered me a glass of my sister's award-winning Madeira. I rarely drink but the thought of going home to a frozen house with temperature dipping into the twenties convinced me to sip a quarter of a glass. At around eight o'clock, their power went out! NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!! We went out to the street to look for a cause and, to my great joy, a man from the power company was working in the cold and dark to restore power! I jumped up and down on my mom's porch like a contestant on The Price Is Right! Before long, the power came on so I checked on my house. I turned around to get Pamela when I heard the lovely purr of the heating unit.

We slept well in a warm, cozy house. And we slept in! I spent the day vacuuming, doing laundry, running the dishwasher, etc. I emptied out the freezer and counted birds. Pamela and I picked up our hot meal. Bright sunny day. Ice gone! Except for the fallen trees and debris and the sound of chainsaws you'd never have guessed that our town had looked like Narnia the day before. Of course, lots of people are still without power, even now.

That evening, I was doing the finishing touches of cleaning up. There seemed to be a bunch of power trucks in front of the house. I found out later they were pruning the live oak in the yard of the neighbor across the street. Apparently that tree was an outage epicenter. While I was working on the bathroom, Pamela burst in and announced breathlessly, "I saw CBS."

Me: "At Oma's house yesterday?"

Pamela: "A reporter."

Me: "Where?"

Pamela: "Over there!"

She pointed to the window. I looked out. Seven power trucks lined the street with a WLTX vehicle in front of my house. A reporter was giving a live report for the news for a station in Columbia — the night footage is in front of my house.

You don't see that everyday! You might not think much of what Pamela did. Let me explain. First, she noticed something extraordinary in a week of unusual events. Second, she realized I was so busy cleaning I failed to notice what was happening on the street. Third, she could not keep the exciting news to herself. She searched for me and went upstairs to tell me.

This is one element of what they call experience sharing in RDI. Situations like this may seem minor but, when you add them up, you see a huge improvement in quality of life as a friend has shared at her blog.

Steve finally made it home and we were so glad to see him. He took a nap while I waited for the blanket to finish drying. Just when things had finally calmed day, Pamela and I felt a sharp jolt shove the house. Pamela asked, "Is it earthquake?" I replied, "I'm not sure," and waited to see if a tree was going to fall on the house. About a minute later a friend on Facebook asked, "Did anyone just feel an earthquake?"

Yes, as far-fetched as it might seem, a 4.1 earthquake hit Edgefield, SC, and we felt it on our side of the state. So, like any good citizen scientist, I filled out an earthquake event form and went to bed before the locusts arrived. After all, you never know what might happen with a full moon.

Mirror Neurons and Habit Training

Before sharing thoughts on physical habit training, I thought share some news I alluded to last month. I've started a math blog focused on helping parents and teachers to see the beauty and joy of math. Math lovers and haters alike are invited to read about captain ideas that inspire me. Many of the downloads or ideas shared are great props for doing RDI. Yesterday, Pamela and I made picture frames through paper sloyd. I curve stitched mine. If you want to learn more, head over to my new blog!

Today's contribution to the Charlotte Mason Blog Carnival how mirror neurons (MN) play a role in physical habit training. Mirror neurons in the brain fire not only when we perform an action but also when we watch someone perform it. The activity in the brain is the same whether we do something or we see it modeled for us. Some believe mirror neurons are important to imitation, empathy, social, and language development, which are all affected in autism.

RDI consultant Simona Onnis outlined the role mirror neurons have in learning as follows:

• Child visually observes (sensory).
• Child observes a motor action (motor planning).
• Child applies meaning to the action (activation of MN), by understanding the intention of the one who acts and by anticipating the possible goal of action.
• The child retains the experience in his memory (retention).

Yesterday, Pamela and I made picture frames using paper sloyd. This model is the third one elaborating upon a 6" by 6" square. Pamela learned how to construct the square using a ruler and pencil. We made a paper envelope for our first model. I took a small step, briefly explained it, pause, and waited expectantly. Drew a point at the top, described, and waited for her to do the same. Drew a point in the middle, described, and waited. Drew a point at the bottom, described, and waited. We followed the same process for drawing a line, rotating the paper, drawing more points and lines, etc.

Last week, we made a wall pocket out of the square and, yesterday, the picture frame. Because each model begins with the same square, Pamela learns to tap into her episodic memory. Next week, we will make a pinwheel beginning with the 6" square. The article about mirror neurons explains how to make sure we give our children the opportunity for their mirror neurons to fire in sharing an experience. Paper sloyd done right fits the bill. First, we are making little keepsakes with our hands. Each model involves following a pattern which is elaborated upon from one model to the next. Varying the pattern makes the process dynamic. I work slowly, involve nonverbal communication, and speak descriptively rather than rely on commands. I pause and wait for Pamela to engage. At certain points, I say or do something to increase anticipation or invite curiosity.

I take these same steps with children in the spectrum at our school. Eman recently shifted from half to full days, so he didn't know that students have chores after lunch. Before heading out to recess, they do a chore and sit down to wait for recess. After he finished eating lunch, I said to him, "Guess what?"

"What?" he said.

"Do you know what kids do before recess?"

"No, what?"

I pointed to Tman, a friend that Eman admires. Tman was wiping the book shelves with a duster. Eman said, "What's that?"

"A duster! The kids have chores after recess."

He saw a duster on the table and asked, "Can I help?"

"Sure!" So, I called Tman over and told him that Eman would like to help. I just sat and watched while mirror neurons and partnering with a peer took care of teaching Eman what he needed to learn. When they were finished, Eman was wandering around, so I said to him, "Poor Jman!"

"What's wrong?"

"Jman's chore partner isn't here today. He has to wipe four tables all by himself." I pointed to Jman who was busy with a Clorox wipe.

"Really? Can I help?"

"Yes! I know he'd appreciate that!" So, I called Jman over and Jman came up with roles. "Hey, Mrs. Tammy, I could pick up things while Eman wipes under them." I told him that was a great idea. The two of them wiped the last table together.

Again, I spotted Eman wondering, so I let his mirror neurons figure out something else. "Do you know what the kids do while they wait for recess?"

"No, what do they do?"

I encouraged him to look around and he said, "Some are sitting quietly." Then, I pointed to one of the teachers and explained, "Mrs. Jenn is watching to see who is ready for recess. The way you tell her is by sitting quietly. She calls the quietest kids first." His eyes widened and he sat down, lips sealed. He didn't say a single word and, to his delight, she called him first to recess.

In this case, learning to do chores was to prop to a more important lesson: watching what others do and copying their good choices. Eman loves helping people: he's eager to help me push in the chairs, take care of the pond, sweep the outdoor patio, and walk to pick up lunch. Watching people do good deeds helps him develop a habit of service and builds positive memories of making the world a better place.

Alertness – Many a good man and woman thinks regretfully of the opportunities in life they have let slip through a certain physical inertness. They missed the chance of doing some little service, or some piece of courtesy, because they did not see in time. It is well to bring up children to think it is rather a sad failure if they miss a chance of going a message, opening a door, carrying a parcel, any small act of service that presents itself. (Page 108)

When Life Hands You Lemons, Make Lemon Batteries!

Right now, I am trying to develop the habit of writing for the Charlotte Mason Blog Carnival, led by mi amiga Amy Tuttle who is a missionary mom in Peru. My first submission for the year focused on topic of awe, an important ingredient in developing a love of learning in our children and ourselves. A quote from the chapter on personhood in Mason's last book inspired that post to the February 5 carnival. In this round, we consider the tension between authority and docility.

The overemphasis of compliance in teaching autistic children spotlights the challenge of putting authority and docility in its proper place. This post should resonate with any person raising or teaching children because an exuberant effort to teach the habit of obedience diminishes the habit of thinking. Mi amiga Di Maitland, a mindful mom who lives in South Africa, recently blogged an enlightening test of how well a child consciously reflects during the day. This clip from a webinar by Dr. Stephen Gutstein defines operating on a conscious level as stopping to analyze a situation when something unexpected happens. What are the parts and how do they fit together into a whole? What is the same and what is different? How does the situation relate, or not relate, to other situations?

For two days, Di decided to hang out and observe her son. She deliberately avoided making any demands upon her preverbal autistic teen. She watched him carefully to see if he was operating on a conscious level. She found that most of the time he followed through his typical routines and rituals with very little variation. Another mindful professional, Dr. James MacDonald , author of Communicating Partners, calls this a "lazy mode of operating" as mi amiga Penny in Tennessee blogged. MacDonald observed,

Out of rational fear, many of us tell the child (usually non-verbally) I WILL TAKE CARE OF YOU NO MATTER WHAT. And it can be just that unnecessary "taking care" that keeps the child in a learned helplessness, or as I prefer, a LAZY mode of operating.

Think of your job now as catching yourself when you are about to do for your child when he needs to do for himself...

So, how does conscious reflecting look? A few weeks ago Steve was getting ready to leave Kansas and come to Carolina for a visit. That morning I slept in because I was able to make it through the night without waking from a coughing fit. Kansas got socked with snowy weather, so Steve skyped the following message to me: "There is a blizzard out there this morning." After I woke up and before I got on the computer, Pamela said to me, "Dad's not coming. There's too much snow."

This is operating on a conscious level for several reasons: (1) Pamela inferred something and did not simple repeat exactly what Steve wrote, (2) she knew I had not seen his message yet, and (3) she decided to tell me because she knew I did not know.

Awareness is the beginning of consciously reflecting. Acting as a result of that awareness is another.

What do authority and docility have to do with consciously reflecting? Because of behaviorism and enlightenment thinking, we in authority have overstepped our bounds by telling children what to do and what to think far more often than we ought. Even though docility is willingness to be taught, we see unthinking obedience as the hallmark of docility. Mason put the habit of obedience and the habit of thinking in their proper spheres through an indirect method. She recommended governing children ("Do as you're bid") without them being aware of their governance ("Go as you please"). But, how does this look in real life?

It is easier than you think as pointed out by a recent blog post at Guiding Families in Hawaii! Spotlight the problem, not the solution! Every time we point out the solution, we steal an opportunity for our children to think. I can understand barking out commands when you are running late, inconveniencing innocent bystanders, or preventing extreme injury, pain, etc. But, whenever possible, I try to point out the problem, not the solution.

Today, Pamela and I were working on math problems at the car dealership. We sat at a table with Pamela on my right. When we transitioned to knitting, I needed to move to her right. I could have told her to stand up and switch chairs with me. Instead, I walked around the table and moved to her right. Without thinking, she scooted her chair to the left and made space for me. Had she thought for a moment, she would have stood up and sat in the chair to her left. I told her, "But, I want to sit down!" Then, she scooted her chair and the one on the left even further left. I added, "I have no chair!" After a few rounds of this, she finally realized that she could move over to the chair on her left.

I even try to spotlight the problem and not the solution in my role as her teacher. To provide background knowledge for the book about Michael Faraday, we explored batteries and built our own lemon battery. First, we tested various size batteries with a volt meter. Then, we made a lemon battery. We tried this the other day but blew a fuse on the volt meter, so Pamela was already familiar with the difference between positive and negative terminals. She recorded what she learned in her science notebook.

As her teacher, I did not tell her exactly what to do. Pamela remembered enough from the last time to set up the circuit with the volt meter independently. However, she made many mistakes and I did not prevent her from doing so. Each time I pointed out the problem. Because she is used to operating on a conscious level, she came up with the solution.

When Pamela tested the AA battery, she reversed the probes. It was the first time she had made this mistake. I spotlighted the problem: a negative reading, which did not seem to concern her. Then I pointed to the red probe and told her that it was supposed to be positive. Immediately, she said, "Turn it around." However, she turned it around twice and got another negative reading. As soon as I pointed out the problem, she turned around her a battery correctly and got a positive reading.



With the triple A battery, she saw her mistake immediately and corrected it without any spotlighting.




In this clip, Pamela gave the lemon two negative terminals. Even though I knew she was making a mistake, I did not stop her. I wanted her to think about what having two terminals might mean. I was even willing to let her test the double negative lemon. She realized right away that it would not work and pulled out the galvanized nail before we tested the lemon for the first time.



In this clip, Pamela reversed the probes of the volt meter. I now realize I should have used alligator clips because she had a hard time keeping them steady. However, you can see that, although the voltage flitted between -0.01 to -0.08, she had no problem reading it as -0.07—a sign of her level of comfort with uncertainty. She realized that she had reversed the probes and corrected it as soon as I reported a negative number.



In this clip, we intentionally tested a lemon without terminals. She was not at all surprised that the volt meter detected no current.

The Feast

Earlier in the month, I alluded to an enrichment afternoon that our local Charlotte Mason study group has just launched. We are offering short lessons, learning together, sharing what we know, and deepening relationships to three classes of students: nursery, primary, and elementary. Right now, primary students are hearing and narrating passages from The Book of Virtues, learning to sew, and studying mapwork from a big picture point of view: the solar system first. Elementary students are doing mapwork of Europe and studying the Tarquin kings of Rome. The whole group gets to view early Genesis accounts through Michelangelo's work on the Sistine Chapel, learn South Carolina folk songs, study three states of matter, and read Shakespeare's Julius Caesar. What amazes me is how even the youngest students yearn to have parts in the bard's play!

Many Charlotte Mason bloggers have shared how they started their enrichment gatherings, so this post focuses on a completely different angle: guiding an adult with major developmental delays in that setting.

The first step for me was to view the schedule in light of my responsibilities and figure out roles for Pamela and me. Setting up social situations based upon roles is a big element of framing activities in a Relationship Development Intervention lifestyle. My friend Di illustrates this well in a blogpost about her plan for putting away oranges.

• During our short opening time, I lead the group in learning South Carolina folk songs. Since she loves singing and already knows most of the music, she has no trouble knowing her role: sing along with other children.
• Then, Pamela and I head out to help with the wee ones in the nursery (more on that later).
• Since I teach citizenship, my primary responsibility is teaching the class, not Pamela. Right now, I need to focus on getting to know the other students while Pamela sits quietly and listens. Once I establish a solid rapport with her classmates, I can figure out how to guide her in the group while teaching the class.
• Since another person teaches science, I can concentrate on being a good guide and help Pamela function as a competent member of the class.
• Since I teach Shakespeare, my top priority is the class. Fortunately, the parents wanted to study a play that Pamela already loves. She has a leg up on the class because of her background knowledge. Guiding her in this class is much easier for that reason.

Nursery Time - Bonding with wee ones didn't seem promising when Pamela and I arrived in the nursery on our first enrichment day. One daddy was playing with his little girl. One mama was settling down her newborn who was reacting to the tears of a toddler crying for his mama. The little boy didn't know me well and I feared that picking him up would only add to his stress. I had to find a way to calm him before guiding an interaction between him and Pamela. Showing him stuffed animals made him cry louder. Pretending to play with trucks and tractors brought on more of the same.

I fell back on RDI principles and established a co-regulatory pattern (which Di also used) that served two purposes: help him feel more comfortable with us and get Pamela in a groove. I took a basket of Duplos and began to build a wall. After four blocks, I handed Pamela a block and she added to the wall. We continued that assembly-line pattern: mom picks a block and hands it to Pamela; Pamela places it on the wall. Over the course of a few minutes, watching our co-regulatory pattern quietened the boy and, when he looked like he wanted to join us, I said to Pamela, "Jacob wants a block." She handed the block to him and he added to the wall.

We stuck to this pattern far longer than I would have with Pamela alone. While she fell into the groove of having a third person quickly, Jacob looked a bit shaky. Whenever the wall wobbled, his lower lip trembled. I solved that problem by making the wall turn a corner until two corners stabilized it. As his confidence grew, he began to chatter. I joined him: I played match plus one, repeating what he said with an extra word or two. Match plus one prevents me from talking too much. I also threw in my unique comments, and he repeated them beautifully.

The point of establishing a co-regulatory pattern is to have a fall-back position when you add a variation that upsets a child. Interacting in such a rigid pattern can become mindless and robotic, empty of emotion. At this point, while Jacob and I were working on our rapport, Pamela was completely ignoring him. Since both seemed comfortable, I added a variation to encourage Pamela to become more dynamic. I picked up a waffle block and handed it to Pamela. She startled and handed it back to me, "That's the wrong one!"

I paused and waited for her to look at me. Then, I winked and explained, "We're going to trick Jacob!" Pamela accepted the block and handed it to Jacob. I watched his lower lip carefully and was ready to help him solve the problem if it trembled. He studied the block, studied the wall, and wondered. I said, "I wonder what we can do with this block." Very slowly, he placed the waffle block on a perfect spot on the wall. I continued handing Pamela "right" blocks and "wrong" blocks and she and Jacob continued their roles. Then, I gave her a foam block and this time she made no complaint. Giving her varied blocks kept Pamela on her toes, which prevented her from mindlessly playing her part.

At this point, our little friend made a crucial error. Fifteen minutes into our little game, he thought of more familiar faces and asked, "Where's my mama?" At that point, he burst into tears again and only her arrival soothed him.

Reflecting upon the framework, I can see room for improvement. Pamela was not "with us" as much as I would have liked. Admittedly, I was guiding two persons and I had to keep both Pamela and Jacob in their comfort zone. Next time, I will keep in mind Di's own self-talk, "Remember to pause! Remember to pause!" Why pause? The activity (building a wall) is only a prop. Building relationships is the real point of our activity. Pausing gives us time to share an emotion, savor a moment, think through the next step, etc. Forgetting to pause may prevent something beautiful from happening.

Hospitality - Because we were the host family, we arrived early. Pamela helped me push tables together so that everyone could gather around one large rectangle at snack time. I gave her roles in setting the table. She placed a plate and cup in front of each seat. During snack time, I dished out fruit while Pamela placed a brownie on each plate. Being tight on time with many folks to feed allowed few opportunities for experience sharing while we were serving. The slower pace of eating our treats fostered a neat interaction between Pamela and a fellow sojourner on the path of autism.

Although he is more than a decade younger than Pamela, Joseph speaks far better than Pamela. Thanks to RDI, she is far more flexible and patient than Joseph, who makes sure that the entire world knows when he is bored. Finicky in his food choices like many children in the spectrum, he voiced his frustration at the snack very loudly. Unsure of what to do, everyone quietly ignored his comments. Everyone except Pamela. She clearly recognized his anxiety, and having learned how to regulate her own anxieties to some extent, Pamela tried to encourage him. Whenever he complained, Pamela took him quite seriously and responded with all sorts of positive self-talk. "Don't be sad." "Cheer up!" "It's okay." "It's not the end of the world."

Shakespeare - Being responsible for guiding the class ruled out my ability to foster dynamic thinking for Pamela. I decided to set the entire class up for success because none of the students have ever read Shakespeare. I asked my friends for input on who could handle reading aloud longer parts and who needed short parts. I tried to give silent parts to the youngest to help them feel included. I emailed highlighted scripts to the families, so everyone could have a chance to become comfortable with reading their parts. It is the King's English after all!!

I set Pamela up for success by giving her the role of the soothsayer, who, as faithful blog readers know, says Pamela's favorite lines. We followed the same process we have used at home: we watch a segment from the BBC version of the play and then we read the script. When it came time to read aloud her scene, the soothsayer stood up with Anthony, Caesar, and the crowd, followed the reading of the script, and said her lines without any prompting from me. I was so thrilled to see her participate in a group activity and succeed on her own. While the setting is quite static, falling short of the aims of what we frame in RDI, sometimes you have to be realistic. My ultimate responsibility was teaching the class, which made relying on her static abilities a necessity.

Science - The first science class was probably one of the more challenging scenarios for a person with autism. A bunch of excited children in a long, narrow classroom with four stations for freely exploring three states of matter. They all gravitated to the more active stations (liquids and gases): blowing up balloons with seltzer tablets, mixing oil and water, playing with a bottle with honey, feeling zip-bags filled with squishy jello, putting things in an ice chest, etc. Boring, old solids (blocks, sticks, and a rubber duckie) didn't seem to capture anyone's hearts, so that is where Pamela and I headed with her science journal. Once the excitement died down, she was able to explore other stations and draw pictures in her notebook.

Then, God showed off for us. I peeked out the window and noticed movement in the recently plowed corn fields. Grackles (very greedy black birds) were gleaning for food. Not just a small flock. Thousands and thousands of grackles were right next to the church. Of course, we couldn't pass up such an opportunity for nature study. We quietened the children and headed them outdoors. Pamela said, "Just like the New Testament. Birds eating the seed." Another child exclaimed, "It reminds me of the time God dropped quail from the sky for the people in the desert." The sheer massive numbers of birds made them quite bold, and eventually the kids figured that out. Then, they all started yelling and shouting to see if the birds even noticed. The birds ignored the noise at first, and then they slowly moved to more promising fields.

Our second day of science gave me another opportunity to consider roles. We headed outside, and the teacher began by explaining how gas molecules behave and directed the students to act it out. They ran around in the field and had so much space they hardly bumped into one another. Pamela doesn't tend to get into this sort of thing, so I gave her the science journal and she drew simple diagrams of the children's action. The teacher reigned the children into a small circle bounded by the driveway and directed them to behave like liquid molecules. Finally, she had them bunch up together to act like a solid. Pamela watched and drew pictures.

Overcoming Passivity

For many reasons, some children in the spectrum become passive:  executive function glitches, feelings of incompetence, overprompting, doing too much for them, doing too little for them, etc. Pamela was born passive, which we mistook for patience, sweetness, and gentleness. As an infant, she hardly cried about anything. Unlike her brother, who demanded attention from day one, Pamela sat there and watched, waiting for us to read her mind. She never connected crying to getting fed, changed, and held faster. She was so passive we took her out of daycare when she was four months old and placed her with a family where she would have more one-on-one attention from a friend and her children.

Today, Pamela is anything but passive. Not only does she figure things out for herself, she can be rather demanding and bossy at times. Now, we have to work on the other side of the equation: not letting her control us. Helping her learn to initiate has been a life-long process and requires more scaffolding than being dumped into a new home with strange people (Mary Lennox and Elizabeth Ann). People often ask how to teach chores to children who can easily get stuck into a mindless routine in which they become stuck if something goes wrong or who have executive function issues that make it hard for them to initiate or shift to another step.

First, there is atmosphere. I try very hard to avoid tying performance to rewards because I'm not a behaviorist. When working on new habits, I make sure that Pamela and I have sweet moments during the day that have nothing to do with following instruction. I go out of my way to smile at her for no reason, tickle her sweetly at random moments, say things that spark giggles out of the blue, etc. I never want her thinking "Mom is only nice to me when I do what she wants." When we are forming a new habit, I make declarative comments on what we are doing, "We're washing towels" rather than clap and gush,"Yaaaaay! Good job!"

Why should she do chores if there are no rewards? Why do I do chores? I am not Mary Poppins: I take no delight in chores, even with a spoonful of sugar. Chores are things that need to be done so life runs smoothly. Laundry needs washing or we would all be running around naked. If rewards were the only reason to do chores, I would rather skip it, sit down with a cup of coffee, and read a book. I hope Pamela will notice something needs doing and do it rather than work for rewards or stick to a mindless schedule. The atmosphere of doing chores together is slow, attentive, warm and encouraging. We are sharing an experience: we are doing something together, knowing that the relationship means more than mastering every single step of laundering in two weeks or less.

We live in a performance-oriented world. It is easy to think our kids aren't learning fast enough and give up. I try to keep in mind that doing chores is more than the task. Chores are the context for us to work many areas of development: exchanging declarative comments (communication and language), embedding body language and facial expression (nonverbal communication), adjusting to each other's pace (referencing), knowing what to do when the washer is already full or the door is hard to open (problem solving), knowing that there is such a thing as too full (judgment), etc. Because I teach life skills in a contextualized manner, I don't worry if it takes two months to master every step and contingency.

Building interaction patterns (shared with me by our RDI consultant) through chores and anything that is part of your day sets up a framework that does two things: create a framework for learning many tasks and lay a concrete foundation for the flow of conversations. Most interactions follow one of three patterns, or a sophisticated combination of them: simultaneous, alternating, and assembly line (you can read about all three here). Once kids recognize the pattern, it is easier to take an active role in a wide variety of interactions with people rather than feeling confused and withdraw.

Another important ingredient worth including is going very slowly and waiting for them to take a step. Our kids process much more slowly than we realize. When we rush and push, they feel incompetent and give up, making them more passive. We must go slowly enough for them to observe, think, and react--at their pace, not ours. Slow interactions invite our children to join in because they feel like they can keep up and succeed. Enough positive memories of taking an active role encourages them to initiate more. RDI consultants suggest waiting as long as 45 seconds to avoid missing an opportunity to think.

So, what if you had an extremely passive child? How would this look? Planning is everything: you want to set them up for success by making it easy at first. Sort the laundry and have the laundry that needs washing accessible. Have the detergent out and the cap slightly loosened. If they are too short to reach the washer, think about how your child will physically do it. An energetic child might enjoy taking turns "shooting hoops" while a sedentary child might sit on top of the dryer and drop clothing into the washer in assembly line fashion.

Another thing to think through is your hierarchy of prompting. You want to try the least direct prompt possible and wait for a reaction before trying a more direct prompt. The very first thing you do in any interaction is seek the person's attention. How would you do that in real life with a non-autistic person? Clear your throat and wait. Wave your hand. Move closer. Would you ever say to a friend, co-worker, or boss, "Look at me"?

If your child is not used to shifting attention to you, you may need to get extreme. Do or say something completely surprising like sing "Who let the dogs out?" You may need to move your face in an odd angle until your child cannot avoid seeing that you want her attention. Attention is not the act of eyeballing a person. There is a mental shift to observe you as a whole person: what you are doing and saying. I know Pamela is paying attention in how she reacts to me, not how long she gazes at me.

Timing is important too. Interrupting the credits of a movie is not a good idea (that is an issue for another day). Set everything up and wait for the right time such as after the child is in the process of transitioning from one thing to another. With a bright face and cheery voice, you might announce, "We're going to start the laundry." Then, grab her hand, walk with her into the laundry area, and guide her to the position  where she will be working.

If your child is completely passive, this is the time for many long, awkward pauses. They are not used to thinking and acting! Do something to encourage her to shift attention to you and wait. Move through the hierarchy for getting attention (each time waiting) until she turns her gaze toward you and then point to the door. Pointing to something is more indirect than commanding, "Open the door." It requires the child to think: What is Mom pointing at? Why is she pointing? Does she want me to do something? What does she want me to do? Why does she keep staring at me?

Until your child opens the door, you could try a variety of indirect prompts (waiting between each one): tap on the door, put your hand on the latch, try shoving a piece of clothing through the door, guide her hand to the latch, help her partially open it, help her open it all the way, etc. You could even think out loud, "We have to put clothes in the washer" and wait. Or say, "I wonder what we should do first" and wait. Or try, "Uh, oh! The door is closed." This sounds very slow and laborious but will be worth the effort when your child starts showing initiative. If we just verbally command (or look at a picture schedule), it will be hard for them to learn to think for themselves. When she finally opens the door, you might gasp with a big smile and, when she looks at you, say, "We opened the door!" Give her some time to reflect on  that big moment before going on to the next step.

Once the door is open, you start the interaction pattern of transferring pieces of clothing into the washer. At first you want to be very predictable and build their confidence in knowing what to do. Before the process becomes mindless, you inject a little uncertainty (drop a piece of clothing, put it on your head, put it in the hamper, etc.) and see how your child handles it. Without uncertainty, the interaction becomes mindless and you miss the change to foster flexible thinking and problem solving.

Pamela initiates very well and takes active roles. Here is how it went down with us. Before we started, I sorted the towels and sundry cloths in a hamper. I put the detergent on top of the washer and the hamper in front of the dryer. Then I waited. We were going shopping (something she wanted), so I waited for her to come in the kitchen and ask about it. Then, I told her we would go after starting laundry. We stepped into the laundry room, and I pointed to the washing machine door. She opened it.

Then, we hit our first glitch: David had washed his clothes the day before and forgot to transfer them to the dryer. Pamela looked in and said, "They're wet!" Then, I smelled them (my sense of smell is shot because of my cold), and I couldn't tell if they needed rewashing. I explained to her my thinking, "I'm not sure if they're clean," and I closed the door.

I pointed to the tray where we pour in the detergent. She tried opening it but couldn't because you have to shift a hidden latch to the right. She looked at me, "It's stuck." So, I pulled it a little way open and she finished. I took the cap off the detergent and gave it to her. She held the cap while I poured. I pointed to the section for the detergent, and she poured. I placed my palm on the door like I was closing it and she closed it. I showed her what button to push (which you have to push twice). I handed her the big detergent bottle and pointed to the corner of the shelf where it belongs. She put it away. We paused and I put my hand on my ear. Why? Sometimes, the door isn't closed quite right and it makes a grinding noise. When I heard the correct noise (the water being released), I smiled and said, "Whooossh!" so she knew that is the sound you need to hear.

We have started two more loads of laundry since. Because the first round went so smoothly, I added some challenges. I waited for her to open the door without any indirect prompting. I left the detergent on the shelf, so she had to retrieve it and let her open the bottle. I didn't open the detergent tray for her. I placed her hand on the latch and helped her shift it to the right. Everything went so smoothly that the third time, I added more variation. I held the cup while she poured the detergent (a more challenging task). The only problem she had was with the latch, but eventually she will figure it out. Because she is a quick study at learning chores, I suspect she will be self-sufficient in a week or two.

Talk about bliss: both of my kids starting a load of laundry!

AO, and I Don't Mean Ambleside Online

Isn't it ironic that two things in my life have the initials AO: Ambleside Online and the Autism One conference, which has graciously posted videos. Since I am not sure how long they will be available online FOR FREE, I suggest you stop reading and start watching Dr. Nicole Beurkens' presentation on Relationship Development Intervention (RDI). She hits all the things that helped us so much when we started down this path back in 2007.

Now, I don't mean to be ugly or controversial, but I want to contrast what I know about RDI with the one on Verbal Behavior by Dr. James Partington. I admit I am biased against behaviorism, not only in how I handle autism but in how I teach children. My goal is to help people see that we must put first things first in teaching language-delayed children. Assuming that children in the autism spectrum cannot learn pre-verbal relationship skills is a mistake. Some can! Mine filled in these holes in her development after she turned 18—18 years old, not months old. She still has a long way to go but she has made progress in her social skills because of it. Autism therapies can be expensive, so it helps to learn from the school of hard knocks. This post represents that!

First Issue - Partington lost me four minutes into it when he talked about hitting language hard. I know you are dying for your child to speak, much less speak well. I know that! Both of my children talked late (David had back-to-back ear infections for two years). Pamela is still learning English as a first language (and Spanish too—the other day she constructed her own unique sentence, "God es mi padre." Muy bien, mi hija). What is so wrong about teaching your preverbal child to talk?

If they lack the nonverbal receptive and expressive skills, they will be missing vital components of communication when you focus on words only. I know! I made that mistake and I hope to help others avoid doing the same. As I am trying to be fair, I do applaud Dr. Partington for cautioning parents about academics (letters, colors, shapes) before their time, but now I must add a caution. He is skipping a vital step: broadband communication (and, if you don't know what that means, I refer you back to Dr. Beurkens).

Second Issue - I also applaud Dr. Partington at minute five for encouraging the first intellectual habit that Charlotte Mason prized above all others: attention, a sign of active, engaged minds. See, I'm fair! But—you knew that was coming, right—but, he focused on having many trials. Being fully engaged and attentive is an exhausting process, especially in the rapid drills typically found in behaviorism. The pace is so fast it often requires you to reward children with food. When allowed to work at a slower rate and given time to process and think rather than automatically act, children do not need artificial rewards.

Third Issue - I thank Dr. Partington at minute six for recognizing the importance of parent participation, the home, and other environments. I love how he contextualized asking a child to recall the word leaf by being outdoors when he pointed to one and asked the student, "What is it?" He used this anecdote to illustrate the importance of having many trials. Well, I have a much larger point. Does the child care what a leaf is? Has she pet a velvety bud? Has she watched a leaf emerge from its bud in the spring? Has she felt its smoothness, traced veins with her fingers, and smelled fresh green? Has she collected them in the fall and wondered how they changed color? Or, does she feel manipulated about having to learn a word for a thing that doesn't interest her in the least? While she may know how to label leaf through drilling, she does not know its essence. To quote Mason, "The question is not,—how much does the youth know? when he has finished his education—but how much does he care?" (page 170).

Fourth Issue - At 7:20, the speaker points out the need to vary what you are doing and not engage in the same type of activity. Mason educators know the value of short lessons and going from one style of lesson to another (doing math for ten minutes and shifting to singing when attention lags). However, we could completely avoid drilling the same kind of activity in trials if we worked with children in context and focused on developmentally appropriate tasks. Why would a child want to learn imitation if they see no point to it? If the child doesn't find it intrinsically interesting and doesn't understand why anyone would want to imitate, then it is just monkeywork.

When a child wants to eat an orange, that is the moment to work on imitation. Scaffold the child into success by scoring and partially pulling the peelings of two oranges. Sit at the table with your child and, once you have full attention (I will get to that in a bit), do one little thing like pick up the orange, smile expectantly, and wait for them to imitate you, even if it takes 45 seconds for the child to figure out what to do. Once they hold the orange, grab one pre-pulled corner, smile, and wait. This is imitation (and a whole host of other things) in context, rich in meaning for the child with a natural consequence, not an artificial reward. You can think of all sorts of opportunities for teaching imitation in daily life for things our children already need to learn.

Fifth Issue - At about 10:45, I agree with Dr. Partington's concern about social interaction. But, I want you to think very carefully about this. The ways in which VB teaches language sets up a very unnatural style of interaction: prompt, quick action, reward. What do you think repeating this cycle over and over tells the child? Other people think. Other people command. The only point to getting the right answer is a reward. It puts the child in a passive, receive mode for long periods of the day. Something interesting happens when the child learns to speak well. They have seen controlling the conversation modeled for them for years, and monologues about things that only interest them becomes their modus operandi! Conditioning any person in that manner might prepare children for schools as they are today. Will it prepare them to live for anything other than awards?

Sixth Issue - Yes, I appreciate the work of Lovaas in the 1970s, described in minute 13:30. I know that we should never give up on our children: there is always hope. Where are the Lovaas children now? They are adults. What kind of lives are they leading? Why has his original research never been followed into adulthood? Where are long-term studies of children who have graduated from ABA and transitioned into mainstream schools? (By long-term, I meant the adult years.)

Seventh Issue - The scariest quote in the first half of the presentation for me was this at minute 16:15: "We know how to make these kids to want to work for us." If what they are learning had meaning, if it was contextualized, if it was done at the pace in which they could process and think, if they were allowed to acquire missing developmental milestones rather than learn discrete skills, you wouldn't need to make them work for you! As the two of you share experiences, the child gleans knowledge and new thoughts from them.

Eighth Issue - At minute, 17:50, Dr. Partington gets into the whole expressive versus receptive language thing in his example of using the word book. He is missing some vital things about books and young children. Books are meant to be shared. Books are more than things to want and get. For a child to able to enjoy a book with you, many things must happen first. They must have joint attention. They should coordinate actions with you. They must be able to anticipate and enjoy novelty so that, when you read slightly differently to spotlight another way to experience the book, they find it fun. Children must have an idea of the context in the story, or the story will make no sense to them. Finally, I'm having a hard time remembering the last time I said to a friend in conversation, "What is something you can read?" But, I digress.

Ninth Issue - Again, I love what Dr. Partington said twenty-three minutes into the presentation about dogs. Through the window, a child sees a dog walking outside. The temptation is to go into teacher mode and ask a bazillion questions about dogs. Well, some teachers, that is. That is not what I would do from a Charlotte Mason and RDI perspective. He is right about punishing a kid with a bunch of impertinent questions about dogs. However, I disagree with his recommendation to say all you want. That is ineffective, too. What I would do is what Amy Cameron calls match plus one. To "dog," I might say, "Cute dog!" To "brown dog," I might say, "Brown like Loa," tugging at Pamela's episodic memories about her favorite dog from childhood. Then, I would smile and wait to see if Pamela felt competent enough to make another comment. In other words, give the child a chance to be an equal partner in the conversation.

Here is a sample conversation that just happened: Pamela just came into the room with a bowl of grapes that she had washed. Focused on writing this post, I ignored her. Suddenly, I heard, "Grapes." Without turning to look at her, I said, "Grapes are yummy!" Pamela said, "Grapes are healthy!" I turned to her and smiled, "Grapes are healthy and juicy." Now, that she had my-face-to-face, full attention, she laughed and started eating. Sometimes, people with autism complain about having to make small talk. We probably have been so focused on what must be done that we have not modeled chit-chat. When we have to work so hard to drill proper speech, grammar, and syntax, we lose track of little conversations with no agenda, no demands, no purpose. RDI allowed me to relax and appreciate small talk for what it is.

Tenth Issue - Twenty-five minutes into it is a slide about identifying existing language skills. What ever happened to pre-language skills? Does the child shift attention? Share joint attention? Understand facial expressions? Use them? How rich is the vocabulary of gestures? Do they understand gestures? Do they look to trusted adults when unsure? Do they watch others to learn? Words can only take a person so far if they are missing out on pre-language skills! I know because I had a sixteen-year-old who didn't have them! Verbal Behavior is missing out on a huge gap in nonverbal communication skills. If they lack these abilities, then they will not learn like other children, which is one reason why they become bully magnets in school. Of course, that is not their fault. It is our fault for not teaching them pre-language skills.

Eleventh Issue - Minute Thirty-Two. In the speaker's clinic, they make children look at every person in the room and greet them. Can you imagine what typical kids will think the first time that child gets on the bus? There is a time and place to do this sort of thing. For example, Pamela knows that, when we get together with Steve's side of the family, the Salvadoran custom is to greet and give your cheek to each person in the room. She also knows that my side of the family is more lax about greetings. In a small gathering, my family greets people individually, but, in a large gathering, a general "hi" works, too. Context makes a huge difference for any behavior that we have. A behavior in one situation is often the wrong thing to do in another. That is where our children get into trouble. They look at social interaction as following a set of rules, but context sometimes changes how we interact.

Twelfth Issue - At 33:25, the speaker talks about routines. Following a routine is usually not the problem with our kids. Transitions from one task to another is the problem. Deviating from the routine such as canceling a trip to the playground because of rain causes a meltdown. Thinking flexibly about the routine is the problem (it is okay to start lunch at 11:59 instead of 12:00). Seriously! Some kids are that locked into routine.

Thirteenth Issue - Responding is not thinking. Another scary quote for me was, "I'm never going to make those connections for them" at minute 35:06. I find this problematic in the school system for all children. Making connections for children robs them of the joy of thinking for themselves. To quote my friend Jenn Spencer, "I am not the fountain from which knowledge springs for my thirsty students. It is not my job to provide all the answers. When I do I rob my children of an opportunity to exercise their own minds, and a lack of exercise leads to atrophy.... One of the hardest things for me to let go of was the need to ask questions that pointed them to my way of thinking. This included giving 'comprehension tests' in which I drew out all the important ideas for my students and held my opinion as the correct answer. The result of leaving this behind has been that sometimes they do not get the ideas that I got at all, sometimes they come to the same ideas I had after having lots of time to ruminate on the material (making it theirs forever, since they were the ones doing the thinking), and sometimes they enlighten me with ideas I might not have thought of." If you focus on what a child thinks and how a child thinks, they will learn to make connections for themselves.

Fourteenth Issue - Finally, thirty-nine minutes into it, the speaker talks about non-verbals, and I'm glad he recognizes the importance of sign language for children who haven't developed their vocal musclelature! He also sees that having an ability means nothing to the child unless they use it spontaneously, without prompting, in a real-world context. Then he spent over fifteen minutes listening to his explanation of ABLLS before I became unglued at minute 56:05 when he equated "establish yourself as a conditioned reinforcer" to "make friends with them" and "make them want to do things to please you." While I completely support developing warm relationships with children, a danger in relying the same motivator most of the time: if you please people, you get rewards. I value helping a child (1) create meaning where there was none before, (2) feel competent about what they are doing, (3) trust you to provide enough support for them to feel successful but enough challenge to make it interesting, and (4) have just enough novelty to keep attention without overstimulating them. The intrinsic reward for the child is that "aha" moment, which in Pamela's case is accompanied by a giggle. Playing to one motivator "getting the good things faster" concerns me because people work for many reasons, not just utilitarian ones.

Fifteenth Issue - I was so glad to see footage of Dr. Partington working with a real child with autism at 1:04:00 (we are into hours now). Because he thinks the child is ready to express her needs in signs and words, I made a few assumptions. By the time an child is ready to communicate in words, he has mastered the art of nonverbal communication. He doesn't just walk into the kitchen and stand there like this little girl did. He doesn't simply walk to the refrigerator and wait, which is often what an autistic child without language does. He actively seeks your attention, follows your eye gaze, and, when you shift your face in his direction, he points and gestures. He watches for your response to see if you understand. If not, he finds another way to communicate. He is also at the stage where he is beginning to share joint attention with you. So, when Dr. Partington starts teaching the little girl in the video language, I assumed she had all of these pieces in place. She did not. I did not see any effort to work on these vital components: shifting attention to him, following his eye gaze, waiting to see if he is paying attention before signing eat, and sharing her enjoyment of the pizza with him. To put it crassly, Dr. Partington is nothing more than a pizza dispensing machine to her.

So, how would one go about eating pizza with this child? How do you feed infants? Often it is a game where you encourage the child to shift attention to you and the spoon by making novel sounds and closing the distance between the baby and the spoon. Then, you smack your lips, lick your lips, and say, "Mmm. That tastes so goood!" If you need a refresher go, check out a first spoon feeding video on youtube. You can see how the little boy is already communicating a desire for more: reaching for the bowl, kicking out with his legs, leaning into his mother, opening his mouth for more, etc. He checks his mother's face for reassurance, but, when he is no longer hungry, he turns away. The mother carefully watches what he is communicating and responds to him. Notice how much mutual enjoyment the mother and her son share.

Compare the two interactions. The baby boy is already communicating volumes more than the little girl does through his facial expressions, body language, and attention shifts. Dr. Partington and the girl completely miss out on any joy, mutual enjoyment, etc. Of course, they have no relationship because this is the first time they have worked together. That ought to be a greater aim. He is very instrumental with her: the minute she signs, he dispenses the food, and there's no effort at communicating any delight or mutual satisfaction. She is the manding machine for him, and he is the vending machine for her. Nothing else matters in the interaction.

In the swing segment (1:13:45), her father is wonderful. You can see how he focuses on experiencing sharing as well as the long e sound, the laughter, the joy. Notice what he does when she stares at her feet, he moves into her line of sight. He gets experience sharing. For him, the interaction is more than reinforcing her: it is emotions shared, the delight.

Sixteenth Issue - When Dr. Partington shifts to working with her mother, again you see the instrumental style. Even though the little girl is signing, she is completely tuned out from her mother. Think back to the baby and those moments of enjoyment between mother and child. That vital ingredient is missing here. Sharing food is more than nourishing our bodies. It is communal. There is joy and fellowship and enjoyment of one another's company. I will commend Dr. Partington for saying at 1:18:30 the importance of letting the little girl come to her and slowing down!

How did we work on face-to-face gazing without food? In the first two weeks of transitioning to RDI, I would walk up to Pamela and wait. If she did not shift to me, I would make a novel sound, each time different: "Yoo hoo!" Clear my throat. Or I might wave or do a silly dance move to encourage that shift. My final maneuver was to move into her line of sight. Once she shifted her gaze (which does not mean I expected her to eyeball me to death either). Then, I would tell her something. Anything. "I'm going to take a shower." "I'm going to call Dad." "I'm going to use the computer." Sometimes, my message contained a naturally rewarded consequence. "Dinner is ready." "I'm going shopping."

Very quickly, Pamela realized that Mom expects me to pay attention to her when she speaks. In fact, Dr. Partington mentions this point about waiting until a child looks at you before speaking later in the video (1:36:30). The big difference between what he does and what I do is the pace and intent of communication. When Dr. Partington speaks, he expects you respond quickly. When I speak to Pamela, I am telling her something that may or may not require a response. Think about it. Communicating is more than making demands of one another. Because I wasn't commanding her every time I opened my mouth, Pamela was learning that sometimes people share information without expecting you to act on it. Some of our communication is like that.

Seventeenth Issue - I appreciate Dr. Partington's take on stim toys at 1:19:45. I can drink a cup of coffee and enjoy my conversation with you. In fact, I might savor the moment more because of the aroma and my delighted taste buds. I agree with Dr. Partington that the little girl does something cool at 1:21:45. She uses her eye gaze to let them know that she wishes to eat from a different bowl. But, there is something vital missing that young children do when they communicate. The whole point of learning to shift attention to watching you is to see if you are paying attention to them. She is missing the key component called referencing here. This pre-verbal skill is when the child points to the bowl, checks your face to see if you are seeing the communication, and waits for your response. At this stage of development, being able to reference another person for a variety of reasons is far more important than using words. In this segment, the little girl broadcasts her intent for a different bowl like radio waves sent out into space. The mother and Dr. Partington move so quickly to respond, they do not give the little girl the opportunity to watch what they are doing and see if they get her message. I can see they were excited, but they missed that chance for the girl to look at her mother and see that mother understands.

Eighteenth Issue - At 1:24:00, Dr. Partington spends a lot of time on reinforcers. Why? His goal is to teach children to ask for what they want and make demands of you. Because he is ignoring the missed developmental stages, such as appreciating novelty, he must use artificial reinforcers. Think about peek-a-boo. Why do we spend so much time on a silly little game when we could be teaching infants to make demands of us!

We are teaching them foundational elements of mutually enjoying each other, which is naturally reinforcing. At first, peek-a-boo is done very slowly until the baby gets the pace and sees the fun of dad covering baby's face and slowly pulling off the blanket. Then, as the baby gets it, dad adds little variations, or novelty. If she adds them too soon, the baby cries because he doesn't understand the fun of anticipation and change. After baby learns that, peek-a-boo becomes a wild game with all sorts of unexpected events, false expectations, and surprising pops-up. Learning to appreciate anticipation and novelty naturally reinforce our social interactions. A child who finds novelty fun will not need fewer artificial rewards. Likewise, children who are making meaning (not just learning labels) and feeling competent about what they are doing (not just going through the motions) need fewer artificial reinforcers.

Nineteenth Issue - At 1:28:00, I admit I cracked up at his warning to parents to avoid teaching children to ask for things they wouldn't want in their wildest dreams (bed, toilet, etc.) Very few kids ever want to go to bed, so that makes sense. But, I do have qualms about his reasoning for not teaching children to say things you don't want to hear until they are bigger than you and can hurt you ("leave me alone" and "no"). Why wouldn't we want them to tell us that? Sometimes, our children are truly worn out and need downtime. That is just as much a need for them as food. I understand that children with autism may need treatments and therapies in their early years to help fill in developmental gaps. We also need to keep in mind as Dr. Beurkens pointed out that we are vastly overscheduling the lives of our children, whether they are autistic or typical. The sensory systems of autistic children are so easily overwhelmed. Because they process more slowly, a slow pace to us is a merry-go-round to them. We ought to be very careful about what therapies we chose for them: just because something is available does not mean we must do it.

I think what Mason wrote about the rights of children ought to apply to those with autism. We should not mistaken organized games and structured recreational activities as play. It is work to them because of everything they must filter out, filter in, process, and monitor. They need free time like any other child. We must allow opportunities for personal initiative in what they do without us taking over and ruining it (pages 36-39). Yesterday, I pulled out some pony beads to sew on eyes on a stuffed toy for a friend. A few hours later, Pamela came to me and showed me a bead necklace she made out of about 50 pony beads. I warmly acknowledged her effort and told her they were beautiful. Then I waited. Sure, I wanted her to wear them. But, I waited. About a minute later, she was proudly wearing them and twisting them around her finger like all girls do. Mind you, Pamela is not a dress up kind of girl, so it was a sweet moment that I could have ruined by doing the thinking for her.

Twentieth Issue - At 1:35:00, I loved how Dr. Partington shared a very important point about all people, including autistic ones. People don't mind unpredictable payoffs as he describes in the slot machine analogy! I would like to take this a wee step further. Unpredictability, one of the secret ingredients of peek-a-boo, is very hard on our kids, which is why they need it in small doses. When we worked on Pamela's anxiety's during the whack-a-mole campaign, we discovered that unpredictability heightened her anxiety, leading her to control people. We spent a long time working on it, and we still have to work at it. David and I discovered yesterday that he had spent too much time being predictable by watching movies in his room. When he tried watching one in the television room downstairs, Pamela had a nuclear meltdown. It took at least fifteen minutes for her to get a grip (and it didn't help that she has a nasty cold sore inside her lip). She eventually chose to sit on the back porch in the rocking chairs and wait for David to finish watching the movie before she came inside. After I calmed her down, David told me, "Mom, I have to make a point to watch movies downstairs sometimes, don't I?"

How do you start working on unpredictability? By adding little variations into a predictable routine. Even when Pamela was little, I made a point not to get trapped by routines. Pamela cried if I skipped an aisle at the grocery store. To help her prepare, I would smile, say "One, two, three, weeeee!" and push the cart really fast to the next aisle. Because we moved every few years, Pamela was forced out of the normal routine until she established new ones at the new neighborhood. In RDI, we use this term called productive uncertainty. You add just enough unpredictability to challenge a child without pushing them into meltdown. A very practical way is to set up doing chores, baking, putting groceries in a bag at the self-checkout, or any activity through interactions patterns. You get the pattern going, and you add a teeny, tiny variation.

Suppose the little girl wants some grapes. You get a bowl of water, place it at the table, and show her how to drop it in the water. You start an assembly-line pattern: mom picks off a grape and gives it to the girl, girl drops it in the water. Then, repeat. You go as slowly as she needs to go. Once she is competent and gets her role, then you add a variation. Just like you might gasp or make an alerting sound in peek-a-boo, you do that first to let her know that something different is about to happen. Then, you take an unexpected action: you drop the grape on the table and wait for her reaction with smile on your face. If she calmly picks it up and finishes her role, you go back to the pattern and then throw in a different variation: you put your hand at a higher or lower level than she expected, you gently bop yourself on the nose with it first, you gently bop her on the nose with it, etc. As long as she goes with the flow, you randomly insert a little variation into the interaction pattern. You might even do something really silly like eat the grape first! However, if she cries or gets frustrated, you help her to recover her emotions, get back to the predictable pattern, and wait until she is really confident before you try a smaller variation than the one that upset her. Basically, you apply peek-a-boo to routine activities into which you can weave an interaction pattern.

Twenty-First Issue - At 1:38:30, I like how Dr. Partington points out that we should encouraging our children with smile and warm facial expressions. That is true for all children! (A quick mathematical rabbit trail SMILE—breathe deeply for no purple math problems are on the horizon—do you want to know how to trip up a student who feels competent in math? Frown and look puzzled while they answer the question!) I also agree with him on timeout: sometimes, autistic children want to be left alone and act up just get a timeout.

Then, Dr. Partington shows some errorless training, which caused me to pause again. I can understand why we think it is necessary because autistic children often feel incompetent at everything. Even in RDI, we scaffold a child by setting up the situation to allow the child to succeed in some small way while still being challenged. However, when you are working for an external reward like food, then making mistakes are far more devastating. You didn't get what you expected (the reward) because you made an error! When discovering something new or mastering a step motivates you, then the stakes are lower. When you focus on process (learning to tie shoes) rather than product (a reward for tying them correctly), you feel less pressured by making mistakes.

Life is messy. Humans make mistakes, and, in fact, to err is human. Too many of our spectrum children are perfectionists by nature. Some require us to work hard to model the fine art of making mistakes, remaining calm and neutral when something runs astray, and figuring out what to do about the mistake. One of the most common questions I get from parents new to homeschooling is how to help their autism spectrum child stop melting down over wrongs answers! Making errors is not the issue: the issue is whether or not you make an error, you know you made an error, but you find a way to repair the situation. The video of Pamela making mistakes in learning to tie her shoe illustrates this beautifully.

Twenty-First Issue - From 1:40:00 to 1:47:00, Dr. Partington spends a lot of time labeling names with flashcards, a decontextualized way to learn labels. It reminds me of a friend whose child was drilled with flashcards: I am changing the situation somewhat for anonymity. Suppose we drill, "What do you find in a pool (common here in the Carolinas)? Water, ladder, and floats." The child memorizes the exact response and has it perfectly. One day, you see a duck in the poll and you head the child outside, point to the unexpected thing in the pool, and ask with great excitement, "What do you see in the pool?" The child misses the novelty and mechanically replies, "Water, ladder, and floats." This is the kind of thing that was happening to the child, and my friend had to work very hard to contextualize understanding.

Dr. Partington does recommend we "show them what a tape is and does" but it sure looks like "do as I say, not as I do." How do I teach Pamela new words in context? Here are two examples: copper and fungus. Because we look for meaning and connections, living books and real life offers opportunities to reinforce new words (copper kettle at the Revolutionary War encampment). I also like his point about the giraffe and zebra at 1:42:00. If a child can only express thirty words, I would certainly go for new words that have meaning in the child's life as he suggests chicken in Hawaii where they run on the road or iguana if that happens to be one of your pets. However, some people carry the concept of functional (1:45:07) too far, especially in choosing books for our children. If we only read books that spotlight functional understanding, then they will miss out on embracing fantasy and laughing at the ridiculous. I think focusing on meaning is more helpful than focusing on function because most of us hope that some day our children will have an active imagination and a lively sense of humor.

Twenty-Second Issue - The little boy at 01:47:00 is doing many wonderful things: he shares joint attention with the adult in looking at the book. He is using body language and looking at the therapist. I like what Dr. Partington suggests in having a child "tell me about the woman." That is narration in a nutshell. Where we do it differently in the Charlotte Mason world is that we teach in context: when outdoors, children sight-see and picture-paint by sharing what they observe. The art of knowing and narrating occurs in context in concrete, real-life situations. That prepares them for the shift to more abstract settings when they hit formal lessons starting in Year 1 (starting at age six or later for some children): picture study, nature study, narrating a passage from a book, etc. 

We even follow-up narrations very differently. Rather than focus on instrumental, imperative "gotcha questions," we focus on meaning and episodic memory. When a character breaks a bone, we think back to the times when I broke my arm (1974), Pamela broke hers (1999), and David broke his arm (2003 and 2005). When a character botches a recipe, we talk about culinary horror stories. When we read about a hawk, we recall our own hawk rescue and Pamela even remembers this incident every time she catches an insect in the house and gently releases it outdoors. We seek opportunities to ponder, wonder, and share what we feel, not poke holes in her sense of competency.

Twenty-Third Issue - At 1:49:00, Dr. Partington talks a bit about intraverbals (talking about things in their absence). The contextual way to do this is telling the absent parent what happened. When Dad comes home from work, children tell him about what they did while he was away. When children come home from a trip to the hardware store with Dad, they tell Mom all the things they saw and did. When Grandma calls, they tell her about the birthday party. I see a clear pattern in how Verbal Behavior approaches tasks versus a relationship-oriented way (Charlotte Mason and RDI). We seem to focus on the whole in a real, concrete context that has meaning for the child while VB seeks to fragment and decontextualize in an abstract manner. We seem to tie an unknown to a prior known, tapping into episodic memory, while VB seeks to drill unknowns until they are memorized, which is quite a different thing from known.

Twenty-Fourth Issue - At 1:57:00, Dr. Partington makes a vital point about paying attention to what people are doing. Inattention to people becomes a problem when you focus on words before nonverbal communication. Because RDI concentrates on referencing (watching what people do and think about how we might alter our actions or stay the course), children are more able to transition to social situations even when their verbal skills lag. First, we focus on teaching them to reference their parents. They discover that people with more experience provide clues on what we should do. A great example for Pamela was when she was not sure about what to do with metered mail and she referenced me to find out. Then, they learn to reference other trusted adults and eventually peers in small groups such as when Pamela took watercolor classes.

Watching what people do is not an afterthought once we have taught them language. Watching what people do is a means by which children learn to do and learn more language. Rather than focusing on discrete details about what Michael is eating and wearing at 1:58:00, we are focusing on the relationship. The kind of thought pattern we aim for our children to learn is not focused on objective details: "Michael is eating a sandwich and baby carrots. He has brown hair and eyes. He wears glasses. He wore a red T-shirt and blue jeans." We focus on subjective details: "Michael is frowning at me. I wonder why. Maybe he doesn't like my tapping the table with my finger. What happens if I stop tapping? He still looks upset. What if I move away a little? He is relaxing. I bet I was too close to him. I'll have to remember that next time."

If you have never heard of any of this heretical, completely topsy-turvy way of addressing autism, I encourage you to study Dr. Beurkens' presentation and chew on that only for awhile. Drink it in and absorb it. What sounds so simple is really a challenge in our "more is more" and "now is better" world. Think about it. Learn to live it.

Teaching our children from a developmental, relationship-oriented point of view requires a huge paradigm shift—a major change in how we interact with our children that runs counter to the culture of enlightenment thinking. In the beginning, we focus on what we are doing as parents: are we slow enough, are we more careful with our nonverbal communication, have we cut out therapy for the sake of therapy because it is available and fairly inexpensive, are we being more declarative in my language to let our children think. It may require the guidance of an RDI consultant (ask your friends for not all consultants are created equal). You may end up changing schools or homeschooling or changing how you homeschool. Change is hard!

This change in my thinking started at the turn of the century (whoa, that makes me feel old), and I am still learning as I go. Friends of mine like Jennifer Spencer and Lisa Cadora have found the change sometimes painful but worth it. We no longer worry about learning because we are learning to live and enjoying the new life we live.