Gleaning Habits from Picture Study

People confuse classical education with Charlotte Mason's method for our materials are similar. What we do with books and things is quite different. The first four years of a classical education is the pouring in and spitting out of specific facts (the Grammar Stage). Connecting ideas is not expected until the next stage. Students in a Mason paradigm form relations early and remember what stirs the mind. Since I plan to blog art, I searched briefly for how a classical folks teach art, and most sites link to "Charlotte Mason style" lessons. Curious.

Mason educators aim for good habits. Mason wrote,

No intellectual habit is so valuable as that of attention; it is a mere habit but it is also the hall-mark of an educated person.... The habits of fitting and ready expression, of obedience, of good-will, and of an impersonal outlook are spontaneous bye-products of education in this sort. So, too, are the habits of right thinking and right judging; while physical habits of neatness and order attend upon the self-respect which follows an education which respects the personality of children.

The following video depicts order which Pamela learned from watching me. As discussed in my last post, she has taken order to a new level. For years, she saw me transition us from one task to another. When she seemed ready to take on these duties, I let her. Pamela is a bit slow in how she puts away a highlighter, retrieves the pencil, checks for lead, adds more lead to the pencil, grabs the highlighter, highlights the schedule to mark off a task, puts the highlighter back, grabs her language arts composition book, and turns to the right page. People with autism process more slowly. Some struggle with the level of executive function Pamela shows here.



The habit of order eases one's life. Mason wrote, "Consider how laborious life would be were its wheels not greased by habits of cleanliness, neatness, order, courtesy; had we to make the effort of decision about every detail of dressing and eating, coming and going, life would not be worth living." Where static thinking helps us most is in the execution of routine tasks. It frees up our working memory for higher-level thinking.

What is higher-level thinking? Dynamic thinking—which people in the spectrum find challenging. While picture study seems so simple—and it is—chances arise to think dynamically. My last picture study post recapped how we practice theory of mind, "fitting and ready expression," and attention, retrieve memory, and make historical connections. Picture study is how I scaffold Pamela in writing paragraphs, too.

Pamela knows what is expected of her. I have slightly altered how we do picture study to work on dynamic thinking. She picked one of the twenty-four Winslow Homer picture cards and studied carefully. She does the work of imprinting details from the picture into her memory and of describing it so clearly from her memory that I can pick it out of the stack. This is the "act of knowing" for a picture study. In the following video, you can see how fluently she narrates the picture which I have hidden from view. Although she has left gaps in her description, I do not interrupt her.

After she finished, I reflect upon her narration and ask her meaningful questions that help me construct an image in my mind. Rather than ask direct questions, I paraphrase her words. I tell her what I don't know. She spoke of something blue outside, and I told her I didn't know what was blue. Making a declarative statement about gaps in my understanding gives her a chance to listen more carefully and think. I do ask open-ended questions.

You can see how she enjoys our exchange of information. As you watch her listen, think, and respond, you can see how quickly she processes now. The pace of our conversation is much faster! Pamela illustrates what Mason said about listening with full attention, "We can all imagine how our work would be eased if our subordinates listened to instructions with the full attention which implies recollection."



Now, we come to the moment of truth! Can Pamela's efforts guide me to the correct picture? This process illustrates how differently we do things. When a teacher creates a worksheet, the teacher robs the opportunity to think from students. Some teachers explained to me not long ago that open-ended questions create anxiety in students of today. They are afraid of saying the wrong thing. They don't know what details teachers want. They fear low grades. While they are adept at static thinking (direct questions with only one right answer), they have difficulty with dynamic thinking. When we do picture study, Pamela does most of the work for she has to know how much information is good enough. I am more of a guide in our journey to a shared understanding.

In the next video, I go through each card and explain my decision to accept or reject it. You can see Pamela's anticipation until I find the right one. Then, interest wanes because the element of surprise is gone. I persist through the entire stack since two or more pictures might fit her description. In this case, I narrowed it down to two: Snap the Whip and School Time.



Below are the two pictures. They have so much in common that they almost look the same.



I use this opportunity to explain why I choose the top picture. Upon further reflection, I think I could have spotlighted "same but different" thinking instead. Then, I would have given Pamela another chance to think dynamically. Next time we have a close call, I will do that! I also spotlighted errors to help her refine her observation before doing a written narration. I asked her what season she thought it was to give her a chance to infer. At around minute 1:20, Pamela shifts her gaze and studies her schedule. I kept talking to see if she would turn to me on her own. She did not, so I cleared my throat. She inferred that I had noticed her lack of attention. (Note to self: slow down and talk less!)



When I ask Pamela to write the title of the painting, I see an opportunity to work on gray thinking. Winslow Homer named it Snap the Whip, and yet no whips are in sight. I am thrilled when Pamela immediately realizes the boys were the whip! To encourage her to lengthen her descriptions, I first ask her how many sentences she can write. After she said, "Six," I apply "Edge Plus One" (an RDI term) and suggest seven. Pamela balks vociferously, so I back off and leave the matter unresolved.



Pamela has written three narrations for picture study so far: Girl with Laurel, Fog Warning, and, of course, Snap the Whip. While she writes, I say absolutely nothing. I don't even peek over her shoulder. I try to find something else to do. She has to do the work.



Originally, Snap the Whip had six sentences. I scaffold her into writing a seventh by suggesting she had forgotten to mention the season. She comes up with "It's fall" and I prompt "because" to encourage her to write a longer sentence. And, she does!

Hope and Faith

A Facebook friend posted a link to an article about Representative Gabby Giffords' road to recovery since being shot in the head last January. The first minute-and-a-half of the radio program compares an interview with Gabby four years ago to her reading from her husband's new book. Her halted delivery reminded me of how Pamela reads. The description of Gabby's expressive language reminds me Pamela's road to language:

• "It's very difficult to carry on a conversation. It becomes very one-sided."
• "Her language is still halting — mostly one- or two-word thoughts."
• "We can have a conversation — it's difficult for her. She struggles; she gets frustrated."
• "Now, Giffords speaks in full sentences, according to Kelly. The challenge for her, he says, is stringing those sentences together."
• "Language recovery has come slowly."
• "I've come to learn that your brain can rewire itself to some extent. And she can find where those words are now located."

Isn't it amazing that a gun shot to the head causes the same kind of challenges Pamela faces with autism and aphasia?

While Giffords goes through hours of rigorous speech therapy every day, Pamela and I both burned out on it. Unlike Giffords who has already mastered the language once, Pamela is still building language from scratch. Giffords has been at it for less than a year; Pamela has been at it for twenty!

Last week, we were doing "exams" as I posted earlier. Our exams look very differently from what is usually done in this No Child Left Untested world because exams are basically narrations. I ask her to tell me about a topic, and Pamela shares what she knows. This exam is on mythology. Because she is not ready for the book listed for the year we are doing for CLUSA, I substituted an Ambleside Online book we have never read: Nathaniel Hawthorne's The Wonder Book.

I asked Pamela to tell me about her favorite story of the two we read last term, but she wanted to narrate both. The text of the two narrations are quite different and I have been pondering why. The story of King Midas was less complicated than the story of Perseus and Medusa: it involved fewer characters, fewer changes of scenes, and fewer plot developments. It had more of a repeated narrative (much like fairy tales). She could personally relate to the realistic elements of "The Golden Touch" while the story about Medusa contained far more fantasy. Pamela has an interest in children and the character of Marygold captured her imagination from the very beginning.

Pamela's knack for calendars and anachronisms came to light here. Hawthorne stated that Midas had turned a book into gold, but Pamela knew that the story was set in "B.C. times" and, therefore, he must have turned a scroll into gold. She may have trouble fully expressing her thoughts, but her chronology is superior to one of America's great authors.

Many years ago, before I learned other ways to approach language deficiencies, I drilled speech anomalies to the point of killing any joy Pamela felt in sharing her thoughts. Now, rather than stop her in the middle of a narration, I patiently listen because I know that recitation, copywork, studied dictation, and living books are more respectful ways to address grammar and speech glitches. All I do in the context of a narration is rephrase what she said to matching closely what she said in more correct English.

In the video, I edited out the long pauses between Pamela's initial sentences. I am not the most patient person, so, during this exam, I am knitting socks to prevent myself from jumping in too soon. When Pamela finally ran out of things to say, I probed a little further through declarative language. Asking questions that are too specific with clear right or wrong answers box her into a corner. Making declarative comments gives her aphasia a little wiggle room. I was fairly certain Pamela remembered Medusa's snake hair, so I guided her to it through declarative language. I reworded myself to give her a couple of opportunities, and Pamela didn't catch my drift until I asked about what animal her hair was like. You can see by her body language that she is quite confident in this process and she does not feel pressured or frustrated.

I will close an excerpt from the final page of Giffords' book, written and read in her own words and voice: "It's frustrating, mentally hard, hard work." Fortunately, we have learned to find joy, hope, and faith in this journey toward language.

Gorgon's Head. They had. He had a pierce. They had sword. They had cut your head. They had a fighting with kill Medusa's head Medusa's head was wicked. They had a shoe. They fly away. They had a horse, had a wing. Was cut. Medusa's hair was cut. Alive. Snake. Die. Medusa's head turn to stone.

Do Golden Touch: King Midas had a little girl named Marygold. They turned into gold. They had a strangers. They had rose turn into a gold. Scroll turn into gold. They cannot read. The stuff breakfast turn into gold. They cannot eat. They feel sad. They count the money. Marygold turn into statues. Feel sad. They had the water. They get rid of the gold. Marygold turned back to normal.

Visualizing and Verbalizing da Vinci

One component of our plan for visual art includes picture study, which I have not blogged in a year. We are wrapping up our study of Leonardo da Vinci, so I thought you might enjoy a video of us doing a study of "The Annunciation." Last year, I blogged a detailed description of how I have adjusted picture study in a way that emphasizes the importance of mind to mind communication (a challenge for people with autism). It includes a lesson plan for how we do picture study.

The key to making this work is surprise. I do not know what painting she is going to describe in advance. My questions are meaningful because I am letting her know what I am having trouble visualizing. She enjoys watching me go through each picture and stating whether it is the one she described and, if not, why.

Chit-Chattin' 'bout Collards

Recommending that a parent of an autistic child try Nothing sounds like heresy. There is also great danger in doing too much. Understood Betsy is a classic, but fairly unknown gem--enjoyed by children and adults alike--that beautifully illustrates the pitfalls of doing too much and the power of Nothing. This book ought to be required reading for every teacher and parent.

What do I mean by Nothing? "Silence, waiting, giving the child time and simply observing the child carefully."

Let me give you an example of how this looks. A few years ago, I would think of everything Pamela needed to know and tell her, which left her very little to ask.

Me: "Pamela, I'm going to Oma's house to pick up some collards. I know you don't like collards, but I love them. I'll be back in five minutes."
Pamela: "Okay."

Think about how unbalanced my actions were: Mom (27 words) versus Pamela (1 word). I left her absolutely no "scope for the imagination" (to quote one of my favorite literary characters). I discouraged Pamela from interacting. I had done all the thinking. What was there left to ask? I did not give her a chance to be a partner in the conversation because I assumed she couldn't, which was correct because years of doing too much prevented her from learning. I left no reason to initiate; I did not invite her to respond.

The other day, this is how the deal went down. I gave David the details of where I was going and what I was doing and skipped out of the house while Pamela was upstairs. Not knowing where I was going peaked her interest. After I came home, I put the warm collards on the counter and walked into the room where Pamela was and read a book.

Pamela: "Where d'you go?"
Me: "Oma's house."

I do not correct her sloppy English nor do I give her too much information. I leave her wanting more.

Pamela: "What do you get?"
Me: [I smile mysteriously.] "I got something."

I walk to the kitchen, and she follows out of curiousity. Once there, I pick up the yogurt container and hold it.

Me: "Mmmmmmm . . . it smells good."
Pamela: "What's that?"

I raise the container just out of her eye level and pop the lid, so we can sniff it.

Pamela: "Is it beans?"
Me: "No, it's collards!"

I can see she's not sure of what I meant. I position the container, so she can see them too. She wrinkled her nose and made a face.

Pamela: "I don't like it."
Me: "That's okay. I love collards."

She looks at me in disgust.

Me: "Dad likes collards. What about David?"
Pamela: "Yuck! David don't like it."
Me: "You're right! David doesn't like it."

I model correct English in a subtle way without forcing her to repeat after me.

Now, go back and read through this conversation that really happened. Look at how balanced our words were. She said about as much as I said. She was an equal partner who did not require prompting from me. She enjoyed being in the conversation because her role was as important as mine. She walked away pleased with me because she was not manipulated or controlled. She was pleased with herself because she held her own.

A feeling of competency and confidence is the emotion glue that causes positive experiences like that to stick in her mind. As each experience builds one upon the other, she feels more able to be a true partner. She finds people just a little more understandable. She finds herself just a little more capable. She feels more relaxed in a social situation, which enables her to express herself more easily.

Did you catch how Nothing works? Here is a wonderful outline by Dr. James MacDonald, author of Communicating Partners:

• Wait silently for the child to start an interaction.
• Respond briefly, then wait again.
• Wait with a look of anticipation.
• Do one thing then wait for your child to take a turn.
• Play in a back and forth way, each doing about the same amount.
• Wait when you think he can do more.

And, if you want to know more about Nothing, click here.

The parents in our RDI discussion group tried an experiment that illustrated Nothing beautifully. We did a picture study in two ways. First, we studied the picture for a few minutes, I turned it around, and I drilled them with questions. One parent objected immediately, her interest shrivelling into a little ball, "But, I wasn't looking at the details!" Another, whom I know to have a sharp eye for details, incorrectly answered some of my nit-picky, completely pointless questions. Had I not projected a sense of humor about the whole thing, I could have ticked off two good friends! Then, we repeated the process but this time had a conversation about the painting, volcanoes, spring, El Salvador, and architecture. What do you think got stored into our long-term memories, the number of hills or the impression of life in a Salvadoran village?

After reading about doing Nothing, one of the parents said mysteriously, "That got me thinking . . ."

That's we all should do . . . get thinking and let our kids do likewise!

Vermeer and the Latest Twist on Picture Study

Swine flu has hit our town, shutting down one of the private schools until next week. One family is mourning the loss of their 5th grader who woke up sick on Monday and died today. I do not know them but I am praying for them. I cannot imagine their grief, and it gives me a new perspective on autism. It makes me savor little moments like folding clothes and sitting on the couch next to Pamela while she draws on her dry erase board . . .

Last week, we wrapped up our Monet picture study by looking at his water lilies. Since one goal is for Pamela to know an artist's personality through the paintings, I chose Vermeer based on the startling contrast between neoclassicism and impressionism. Before moving on, we talked about our favorite paintings. Pamela understands that Monet's lilies stand out as uniquely his and observed that the painting with the bridge looks like the one at Swan Lake.



You can see in the video that Pamela and I enjoy picture study, which puts us "in touch with the great artist minds of all ages. We try to unlock for [our] delectation the wonderful garden of Art, in which grow most lovely flowers, most wholesome fruits. We want to open [our] eyes and minds to appreciate the masterpieces of pictorial art, to lead [us] from mere fondness for a pretty picture which pleases the senses up to honest love and discriminating admiration for what is truly beautiful - a love and admiration which are the response of heart and intellect to the appeal addressed to [us] through the senses by all great works of art" (Miss Hammond).

Bringing Charlotte Mason into the digital age, I set up the screensaver on the computer to rotate through the Monet paintings that we studied, a trick I learned from other moms. Miss Hammond suggested inserting the picture in a book to enjoy on a rainy day. I printed out all the pictures we studied and placed them in a folder.

Objective:
1. To start a study of Vermeer's pictures.
2. To develop interest in Vermeer's works.
3. To help Pamela learn to give enough information accurately about a painting to allow me to single it out from other choices.
4. To let her see the natural consequences of leaving out important ideas from a painting.
5. To teach her to picture something in her mind and share what she sees in her mind.
6. To reflect about the painting and how it relates to our lives.

Modifications from Charlotte Mason (Volume 1, pages 309-311):
1. Since the focus is accurately describing what she sees in her mind without the other person seeing it, we will not discuss the picture before putting it away.
2. Since we are helping her with theory of mind, I will ask questions about details to help me get a clear picture in my mind.
3. I cannot give a preview of the picture because I do not know which picture she will pick. So, I will begin the next lesson by asking her to recall the previous picture. Then, I will tell her the story behind the previous picture to link the known (the last picture talk) with the unknown (the current picture talk).

Steps:
1. Select and cut out twelve pictures by Jan Vermeer. Let Pamela pick one without me knowing what it is.
2. Tell her that the new artist we will study is Vermeer.
3. Encourage her to study the picture attentively so that she can remember it after we put it away.
4. Ask her to describe the picture with the most important features that will help me select the right one.
5. Ask questions for more clarity.
6. When finished, mix up the pictures and slowly review them, letting her know why I reject the pictures that sound wrong and why I accept the picture I think she described.
7. If my guess was wrong, brainstorm together what would have helped me.
8. Look at the pictures and talk about anything we missed.
9. Talk about what the picture reminds us of or any special meaning we get from it.

My favorite part of the video was how Pamela personalized the painting. The maid in the painting was sleeping and Pamela thought she was tired from walking. Whenever we return home from our daily walks, Pamela sits on the couch and rests, recovering from her exhaustion!

Variations on Picture Study

Pamela and I are doing a twist on picture studies like the ones described in the lesson plans last June. Not only do picture studies allow opportunities to explore fine art, but they give us scope to have conversation and make connections.

Now, we are working on theory of mind. I printed out six different Monet paintings of water lilies. In a typical lesson, Pamela picks one picture, and I put the rest away. She describes the picture and I ask questions to help me visualize better. When we come to a shared understanding, I pull out all of the pictures and mix them up. Then, I go through them, one by one, try to guess which picture she chose. I tell her my reasoning as we go along so she has the chance to see how important her details are.

Making Connections a la Charlotte Mason

Thursday, Pamela and I did our first picture talk on Monet, blending Charlotte Mason, RDI, and Visualizing and Verbalizing. Charlotte Mason was way ahead of the game in V&V because she suggested a portion of the out-of-door life for children under six must include "sight-seeing" and "picture-painting" (Volume 1, pages 45-51):

• "The children will delight in this game of picture-painting all the more if the mother introduce it by describing some great picture gallery she has seen––pictures of mountains, of moors, of stormy seas, of ploughed fields, of little children at play, of an old woman knitting,––and goes on to say, that though she does not paint her pictures on canvas and have them put in frames, she carries about with her just such a picture gallery; for whenever she sees anything lovely or interesting, she looks at it until she has the picture in her mind's eye; and then she carries it away with her, her own for ever, a picture on view just when she wants it."
• "At first the children will want a little help in the art of seeing. The mother will say, 'Look at the reflection of the trees! There might be a wood under the water. What do those standing up leaves remind you of?' And so on, until the children have noticed the salient points of the scene."
• "She will even herself learn off two or three scenes, and describe them with closed eyes for the children's amusement; and such little mimics are they, and at the same time so sympathetic, that any graceful fanciful touch which she throws into her descriptions will be reproduced with variations in theirs."
• "Find out all you can about that cottage at the foot of the hill; but do not pry about too much. Soon they are back, and there is a crowd of excited faces, and a hubbub of tongues, and random observations are shot breathlessly into the mother's ear."
• "So exceedingly delightful is this faculty of taking mental photographs, exact images, of the beauties of Nature we go about the world for the refreshment of seeing, that it is worth while to exercise children in another way towards this end, bearing in mind, however, that they see the near and the minute, but can only be made with an effort to look at the wide and the distant."
• "Get the children to look well at some patch of landscape, and then to shut their eyes and call up the picture before them, if any bit of it is blurred, they had better look again. When they have a perfect image before their eyes, let them say what they see."
• "This is all play to the children, but the mother is doing invaluable work; she is training their powers of observation and expression, increasing their vocabulary and their range of ideas by giving them the name and the uses of an object at the right moment,––when they ask, 'What is it?' and 'What is it for?'"

With a non-verbal child, foundations for this activity are built by exploring an area together, pointing, smiling, nodding, and sharing simple words with delighted facial expressions and joyful vocal tones . . . smelling flowers and listening for birds . . . filling the bird feeders and quietly watching friends arrive (even furry ones) . . . planting quick-growing seeds and checking their progress every day. . . leaving out sugar for ants and watching what they do . . . watching bees and butterflies flit from flower to flower . . . laying on the ground and studying the clouds . . . sitting on the porch watching a storm in all its glory . . . spying a shy little gecko (which may even bring on a GEICO commercial stim).

Charlotte Mason did not believe in formal lesson plans for young children (this blogger has great ideas for teaching without worksheets). Once they turn six or seven or eight, they were usually ready for short (no-more-than-15-minute) lessons like picture-talks. If you could reduce a lesson to boiler plate, it would be: review and preview, study, narrate (with materials put away), and discuss. We are not putting away the pictures because Pamela needs practice narrating what she sees; in time, I think she will be able to do a picture-talk exactly as described.

Review and Preview - Pamela shares what she remembers of Madame Monet in Japanese Costume, and I give her a little bit more background information about the Monets. First, Pamela remembered the woman, so I gave Pamela her name, Alice Monet, the wife of Claude Monet. She told me he was the husband, and I mentioned that he was an artist in France. Pamela remember that Alice wore the "butterfly red dress." I gave her a new vocabulary word for a Japanese dress, kimono. Then, we recalled the gestalt, "Alice was wearing a kimono and dancing with a fan."


Study - In a typical lesson, the child focuses full attention on a passage to read, a picture to see, or an object of nature to watch. Once the child is ready, you would put away the material and go to the next step. We are combining the steps of study and narration because Pamela is still working on her narration, or expressive language, which has improved so much in the past five years that she is almost ready to describe what she sees in her mind! (I encourage parents of non- and low-verbal children to never say never!)

Narrate - Pamela tells me what she sees. If she were narrating from memory, I would not interrupt her. Since we are practicing the art of verbally painting a picture, in this case Madame Gaudibert, I am asking questions only when she does not give enough information about an item. First, she talked about the woman's clothing, her hair. She described the background: the floor, the wall curtain, and a table with a vase.


Discuss - In our grand conversation, I point out what I see and comment on any differences. Then, we talk about what it reminds me of. We talked about the curtain being bigger than I imagined and the number of flowers. I introduced two new vocabulary words with gestures to illustrate them, shawl and bun. When Pamela said the lady reminded her of Topsy-Turvy, a movie about Gilbert and Sullivan set in the late 1800s, I nearly fell out of my chair! Pamela made a wonderful gestalt connection between the style of dress in Monet's picture to a movie set in the same time period! When I mentioned the late 1800s, she said, "19th century" and my mention of England caused her to guess, "London"--other neat connections. I told Pamela it reminded me of Laura Ingalls wedding dress, and she too lived in the late 1800s. In this clip, you see the science of relations in action, having a relationship with the object of study, making connections, and linking known (Topsy-Turvy and Laura) to unknown (Claude Monet). This kind of thinking transfers into long-term memory more easily (for greater detail on this process, read Dr. Carroll Smith's article "Is Sequencing and Ordering the Curriculum Important for Scaffolding Learning?".)


You may have been distracted by the balloon. If we were in a classroom where she might disturb other children, I would give Pamela something like play-dough for a fidget toy. The point of our activity was language development, and, as long as Pamela stayed on task, I did not worry about the balloon. The lovely consequence of my decision to let it alone is a recording of Pamela blowing up a balloon, tying it all by herself, and asking me to pop it--something, she would not and could not do two months ago!

Madame Monet in Japanese Costume

Pamela is doing many wonderful things, and I especially love how her language is suddenly blossoming. I suspect the association method gave her the mechanics, while RDI helped her become more self-motivated about sharing what she thinks. In RDI, we have been working on showing her how to give a big picture statement about a picture. Before leaving the conference, our consultant was ready for a slightly more abstract step: instead of drawing what she describes, I write down sentences. We follow the same process as before only Pamela dictates what I write, not what I draw.

Before leaving for the ChildLight USA Conference, something hit me! Why not use this as an opportunity to do picture-talks a al Charlotte Mason? I cut out eight pictures by Monet and Pamela picked one called Madame Monet in Japanese Costume. The video shows Pamela narrating what she sees and me asking questions so that I could better visualize what she said.

Our Collective Narration
"The woman wears a red dress. She is holding a big, white fan. She is dancing by herself. She stands on the peach and gray checkered floor. She has short, orange hair and a white face. Some fans are on the wall everywhere. The lady is Japanese. Her dress is decorated with small butterflies. It has a strong man with strong arms on the back. Two fans are on the floor. "

(Pamela's original words are red.)



I thought it might be helpful to adapt my lesson plan to the example Charlotte Mason gave in Home Education (pages 309-311).

Objective:
1. To start a study of Monet's pictures.
2. To develop interest in Monet's works.
3. To practice giving a gestalt first (big picture).
4. To practice providing details about the subject and background.
5. To help Pamela see what I am seeing by the words I write and questions I ask.
6. To share what it reminds us of.

Modifications from Charlotte Mason:
1. Since the focus is language development and experience sharing, she will describe what she sees while studying the picture. Eventually, we will transition to her studying the picture for a few minutes and putting it away.
2. Since we are helping her with theory of mind, I will write what she describes and ask questions about details so that she can see what I am thinking.
3. I cannot give a preview of the picture because I do not know which picture she will pick. So, I will begin the next lesson by asking her to recall the previous picture. Then, I will tell her the story behind the previous picture to link the known (the last picture talk) with the unknown (the current picture talk).

Steps:
1. Select and cut out eight pictures by Claude Monet. Let Pamela pick one without me knowing what it is.
2. Tell her that the artist is Monet and write his name.
3. Ask her to give me the big picture sentence. Write it down so she can check my work.
4. Ask her for the details. Ask questions for more clarity. Write it down for her to check.
5. When finished, let her read what I wrote to correct anything.
6. Look at the pictures and talk about anything we missed.
7. Go to the computer and look at a larger version. Talk about what the picture reminds us of. Make it the desktop until the next picture talk.

Tomorrow's Preview:
Before we do tomorrow's picture, I will link to the known (the Japanese lady) by telling her that artist (Claude Monet) lived in France. Sometimes he painted his family and friends. One day, his wife Alice tried on a Japanese dress called a kimono and Monet painted the picture of her.

Michael, the Gnew Member of Our Family

Lately, I have been trying to assess Pamela's level of curiosity by stating a bare sentence and giving her the opportunity to think and ask questions (or not). Yesterday, I was standing outside our bedroom watching Pamela sift through old pictures, and I said, "I am going outside." Before she could blink, Steve, who was sitting on our bed using the laptop, called out, "Why?" Well, at least Steve showed curiosity! So, I walked over to him and explained what I was doing. Then, I repeated my statement and Pamela asked, "What are you doing?" YES! I told her I was hanging clothes.

Today, Steve and I were sitting in the kitchen when the door bell rang. He went to the front door by going outside because the glass door is sticking badly right now. I walked through the house to the door and said, "Someone is at the door." Pamela, who was surfing the net, did not say anything (which is fine because experience sharing is not pestering someone until they feel coerced into responding). I walked to the window where the computer is, simply looked out, and watched Steve carry a box. She said, "Package for dad. Is it toilet?" Even though I knew it was Michael, a gnome with a berry basket, I used vocal intonation to indicate a mystery and headed to the kitchen.

Pamela was not interested enough to follow, which was okay. Experience sharing is invitational, not mandatory. Steve opened the box and placed Michael and, about ten minutes later, Pamela sauntered into the kitchen. She pointed to the box and said, "What is it?" I replied, "A gnome," purposely leaving out details. Pamela then asked, "Where is it?" I turned my head in the direction of the birdbath and looked at the statue. She headed out the door, and Steve and I followed. I told Pamela, "His name is Michael."

Pamela observed, "Basket." I was about to comment on the basket when Steve asked, "Do you know what the gnome is doing?" (He is still a novice in guiding experience sharing through declarative language and broadband communication.) Pamela said, "Smoking!" which was an interesting comment that I would have liked to pursue down a rabbit trail, but Steve said, "No, he is bringing good luck. Gnomes are supposed to bring good luck." Then, he asked, "Do you know what the basket is for? Berries."

Steve is still learning the fine art of using declarative language to guide experience sharing. Because he spends so much time in the business world tell people what to do, he has a hard time shutting that down when he comes home and flipping the switch to declarative talk.

When Pamela mentioned basket, we could have said things like:

The basket is empty.
I wonder what the basket is for.
That basket is small.
That basket reminds me of one that Oma gave me.

When Pamela mentioned smoking, we could have said things like:

Ew! Nasty!
I wonder if we need a no puffin sign (inside joke).
Just like the boy in Flipper.
I don't see a pipe!

I know how hard it is to have a nonverbal child with autism or a low verbal child, living in fear of not ever hearing a single word. It is so tempting to try to jumpstart spoken language without laying a foundation of nonverbal communication and emphasize purely instrumental communication because it is easier to teach with the clear structure: a direct, black-and-white question have only a few possible answers, and sometimes only one response. Instrumental interactions go very well the the typical learning style of an autistic child, too! Once a child has the mechanics of language down, answering questions truly requires very little thought and only exercises the static parts of the brain, which are usually highly developed in a person with autism. An analogy would be what happens when a weightlifter only targets certain muscles: others atrophy and the person loses flexibility or the body appears uneven in muscle development.

One of the exercises suggested in Chapter 3 of The RDI Book, which covers dynamic communication, is to watch an clip from a foreign film that is not action-packed, without subtitles, and analyze the nonverbal communication. I watched about three minutes of a movie that Steve loved back in the early 1990s: Caro Diario, available as instant play at Netflix. I watched from 1 hour 6 minutes to 1 hour 8 minutes 30 seconds on the Netflix viewer, covering up the subtitles with a piece of paper.

The gestalt of my interpretation of the nonverbal communication is a very serious man is sharing an important piece of writing with two other men, one of whom says something so provocative that the serious man fled in terror and escaped by ferry boat. The details that gave me this big picture view are as follows: two men are writing, very peacefully and calmly, while one man watches them and asks a question. The older man looks at the questioner and explains what he is writing. He finds it so important he shifts attention to the other writer to make sure he is also listening and reads what he wrote. He emphasizes his words, gesturing with his writing hand, and looks up to make sure the questioner is listening. His very pointed and direct facial expression tells me he is passionate about his topic. He recites from memory and stares down the questioner, who gazes intensely with very little change in his expression and acknowledges the speaker with gentle head nods. His eyes shift to the left momentarily and refocus on the speaker. The other writer is also listening with his head tilted as if he were considering the speaker's words carefully, leaning his body toward the speaker and shifting his body slightly. When the speaker is finished, the questioner slightly arches his eyebrows with a slight smirk on his face as he shares something I believe to be provocative. He turns his head back and forth as if to shake his head no slightly. The scene suddenly shifts to the speaker fleeing down the hill with his luggage, ranting and raving, as if running away from the plague. He is grunting and growling in anger as he runs toward a ferry that is about to leave what I assume is an island with no bridges because he is yelling desperately for them to wait for him. He barely leaps on the boat just in time.

Then, I uncovered the subtitles and watched the scene again. I typed up the transcript, and it hit me that the literal words are silly and pointless and do not match the nonverbal communication at all. The letter writer is really reading his letter to the Pope, justifying why watching soap operas promotes family unity. He recites from memory the television schedule, but then reflects he can go without television for a few days. The questioner tells him that the island has no electricity and therefore no television, and the dramatic cut shows the writer sprinting to the only means possible of leaving the island.

Questioner: Are you working?

Diary Writer: I'm writing my diary for now, but . . .

Letter Writer: I'm writing a letter to the Pope because he excommunicated soap operas. He says they harm family togetherness. 'Dear Holy Father, Forgive me, but you are wrong, our families are more and more withdrawn. Thanks to soap operas, we express interest in other, faraway families with whom we share problems, dramas and joys.' Ines, a Secretary, 10:30 A.M. Flamingo Road, 12:50 P.M. Falconcrest, 2:00 P.M. Maria, 2:25 P.M. Santa Barbara, same time, different channel. Celeste, 4:25 P.M. The Bold and Beautiful, 7:15 P.M. I can go a few days without TV, but I don't miss it.

Questioner: On this island, there's no electricity. There's no TV here.

Letter Writer: Television! Elevator! Telephone! Hot water! Wait for me! Television! How can you live without TV? Stop! H. Magnus Enzensberger stirs my pity when he says TV transmits nothingness! Stop! Karl Popper, you're mistaken. TV is not a monster corrupting children. Children don't become moronic watching TV. They daydream. As in old times they daydreamed listening to fables and legends.

What did I learn from this experience? I learned that nonverbal communication can sometimes paint a very different picture from the actual words. The two put together give an entirely new meaning. In this case, the foreboding, serious nonverbals combined with the silly, pointless verbal is what makes the scene absolutely hilarious to me! The mismatch heightens the humor of the scene.

It is no wonder people with autism are confused when they take our words at face value! Often, what we say is not really what we mean . . .

Don't Worry! We'll Live!

Before explaining what we are doing in RDI land right now, I thought I would share a couple of neat declarative comments Pamela has made recently!

Since Hanna is heading our way, we have been making preparations for tropical storm force winds: stocking up on liquids and food requiring minimal cooking and storage, having back-up lighting, inspecting the yard for FOD (Foreign Object Damage)--i.e., Navy for stuff that will fly in a strong wind, etc. I explained to Pamela that tomorrow we may have some strong winds and we have to get ready. She told me she was going to watch Twister and The Wizard of Oz and spend the whole day in bed! We live inland and are not in any danger of floods. Tomorrow, we expect 20 mph winds and lots of much needed rain; however, we are in a tornado watch until five in the morning!

This morning, David was complaining about shows taking up too much space on the DVR. Steve and I have spent the past two weeks watching convention coverage. Pamela told him, "Don't worry! We'll live!" Not only can she self-regulate and co-regulate, she can other-regulate!

The other day, David and I were being pests in the car. We were listening to Tchaikovsky and gently grabbing her at certain predictable moments in the music. She blustered for a few seconds and finally poked me. When I turned to look at her, she said very deliberately, "Don't do that!" I loved how effectively she stopped me in my tracks.

Last week, Pamela made some neat comments to me. She did her written narration for the association method perfectly. She grabbed the paper and gleefully announced, "Finally! Zero mistakes! I DID IT!" Later, I asked her a question. Instead of guessing whatever just to make me happy, she told me, "I don't know." I spotlighted how happy I was to learn that she didn't know. We just started a new book, The Ark (an out-of-print book), which introduces the setting in the first chapter: 13 Parsley Street in an unnamed city in West Germany. Pamela thought for a moment and asked me, "What city?" All of these vignettes add up to two things for me: Pamela thinks and she cares!

Throughout the summer, we have worked very hard on one of the objectives for gestures that stumps some RDI families. My consultant broke it down in the following way: imperative gestures (at which Pamela excelled) and declarative gestures. We started off with spotlighting receptive declarative gestures in which Pamela lets me know she is receiving and understands (head nod or shake and pointing). Then, we worked on her ability to recognize when I am listening (or not listening) so that she can make sure her body language matches when she is listening.

Now, we are transitioning to the world of expressive nonverbal language, starting off with what comes naturally: imperative gestures. We are hoping to help Pamela develop a set of natural gestures she can use to emphasize her words. The framework is any activity in which Pamela can be the boss and show me what to do. To avoid the habit of purely pointing, I play stupid quite often so that she can learn to refine her gestures.

Fortunately, Pamela is quite adept at thinking up signs on the fly. From what I understand, some autistic children find this difficult because they have to conceptualize the action they want taken and communicate a meaningful sign for it. At Walmart, Pamela told me to swipe the credit card by running her index finger down the credit card scanner and to sign the signature pad by wagging her finger like a pen along a horizontal line.

I have already practiced this objective with baking, so this time, we took apart the panda puzzle and started a new one: a dolphin puzzle with hidden images. The objective was for Pamela to be the teller by using gestures. You can see Pamela's wheels turning as she conveys instructions to me nonverbally. She also uses multiple parts of her body: head, hands, and fingers. She did quite well at repairing the situation when I made mistakes.


We did make a little bit of progress in getting this 750-pieced puzzle started. My consultant wanted to know how frustrating this was for her. So, I asked Pamela to rate the puzzle building out of five stars. She told me it was four stars. Then, I reviewed the entire session, which lasted for twenty-three minutes, and she showed me only very minor moments of frustration without any extreme emotion:

• Pamela made one minor grimace.
• When she tried to take a step, I said, "I'm the worker." She told me, "Change it," to which I replied, "Not today." Pamela asked, "Tomorrow?"
• After 19 minutes, Pamela said, "I want to stop." She did not get upset when I told her we would work a little longer.
• About 22 minutes into it, she told me, "Later! I said later."

Slow . . . Quiet . . . Sharing

In Chapter 2 of Awakening Children's Minds, Laura Berk points out that another ingredient of working in the zone of proximal development is the power of conversation:

When people converse with one another, they engage in a form of dialogue called narrative--a storylike mode of communicating, composed of a sequence of events with people as main characters. In the narrative, which may be real or imaginary, characters' roles and mental states--feelings, intentions, beliefs, opinions, and knowledge--are revealed (page 52).

Charlotte Mason believed that the narrative style came easily to younger children once they had words:

Bobbie will come home with a heroic narrative of a fight he has seen between 'Duke' and a dog in the street. It is wonderful! He has seen everything, and he tells everything with splendid vigour in the true epic vein; but so ingrained is our contempt for children that we see nothing in this but Bobbie's foolish childish way! Whereas here, if we have eyes to see and grace to build, is the ground-plan of his education. Until he is six, let Bobbie narrate only when and what he has a mind to. He must not be called upon to tell anything (page 231).

For narrative to extend the zone of proximal development, it helps to establish a shared understanding with the help of scaffolding. The other day, we had some great interactions that illustrate this. Pamela and I made an elfball. (A quick aside for those of you looking for non-toxic toys for Christmas gifts, the toymaker sells her own book.) Pamela cut the entire thing all by herself, and I cleaned up three corners for her. Before taking the next step, I wanted to establish an understanding about how the flap folds need to be made along the lines. She tends to fold without looking!


Pamela could see the need to fold the flaps but did not see the inner lines that form the ball. I talked about what needed to happen next, and I thought she understood. When Pamela said, "I did it," I realized we had a disconnect. She needed more scaffolding to get to my level of understanding, so I demonstrated the next step and she caught on immediately.


I hoped Pamela might figure out what to do next. We needed to tape the flaps to the ball, so I tried to make the point non-verbally. An interesting thing happened. When I was going to turn my gaze to the drawer with the tape, Pamela spaced out (it started when she tapped her face). The brisk, "get on with it" Tammy would have snapped her fingers impatiently and said, "Get the tape." I am working on my personal goal to slow down. This time, I waited and moved my head in odd angles. I realized she was not paying attention, so I waited about fifteen seconds until she referenced me to tell me I could continue. One crucial element of scaffolding for most autistic children is to SLOW DOWN and give them the chance to process and think.


Another element of scaffolding for an autistic child is to communicate non-verbally. Because I have emphasized language and speech for so long, I have neglected body language. Part of the problem was I had read so much research stating that reading facial expressions was too difficult for people with autism. I did not even bother to try. However, since 70% of all communication is non-verbal, I now think it is important to make the attempt. Pamela and I are both way past the neural plasticity limit (that magical age of six) and, yet, we are both learning new ways to communicate! In this case, Pamela got stuck ripping the tape. In the past, she would persist in pulling up, instead of down along the jagged edge. So, I took the tape and demonstrated what to do. She grabbed the scissors, and I shook my head. She reached up to hold the tape, so I guided it into the position. Then, she had no problems with ripping the tape. This entire twenty-five second interaction is completely non-verbal.


I strung together a few examples of declarative language, the last element of scaffolding I will show today. I needed to cut off excess tape, and the imperative Tammy would have said, "Get me the scissors." The declarative Tammy asked, "What do we do about this?" Later, a piece Pamela cut needed to be cut in half. In the old days, I would have said, "Cut this." Instead, I observed, "I think this is too long." By making comments like that, I get to see how Pamela solves problems.

The main difference between being imperative and declarative is not necessarily words, but intent. If grabbing the scissors is the only "correct" response, then I am being imperative. Waiting to see how this interaction will unfold is more declarative. She might have disagreed and come back with, "It's okay." Or, she might have gotten a knife instead of scissors. On the other hand, she might have given me a blank stare. I learn more about how she thinks when I allow her to be an active participant.

At the end of the clip, the phone rang and I told her, "I'm ignoring the phone. The last time they hung up." Pamela stood up to get it, so I told her, "That's okay. Last time, nobody was on the phone. I'm not going to answer it." I had hoped she would ignore the ringing phone because I knew David would get it. I told her what I was thinking, and she decided to sit down and ignore it, too! However, if she had opted to pick it up and hand it to me, I would have answered it. The old imperative Tammy would have said, "Sit down. I'm ignoring the phone." Period. End of story.


These three elements of scaffolding are what I was missing before I started reading about RDI. I already knew about elements of teaching problem solving like breaking things down into manageable steps, including visual cues, demonstrating what to do, give feedback, only helping when stuck, being warm and encouraging, etc. What is new for me are thinks like slowing down, relying on body language rather than my mouth, and sharing rather than demanding. My focal points when interacting with Pamela are Slow . . . Quiet . . . Sharing.

Learning Styles Pages

Just a quick note! I finally updated my original learning styles page and added a new one! The new page is a literary look at learning styles, based upon a presentation I gave at the 2006 Charlotte Mason Conference. My next goal is to convert my notes on narration into a web page, so stay tuned.

Speaking of learning styles. . . Pamela is visual, like many people with autism. For her, a picture speaks a thousand words. In this case, Pamela did not want to believe me when I told her in my most declarative voice, "Your sweater is dirty" with a scrunched-up face. Pamela could not see the stain from her angle, so she proceeded to argue and throw a fit. I had the camera nearby, took a picture, and showed it to her. End of argument. She whipped off her sweater immediately without another huff or puff.

Secret Window

Pamela and I have thoroughly enjoyed the free toys at The Toymaker. First, we made a fairy wand. Now, Pamela is one horse short of a menagerie. She recently received a postcard in the mail from her Oma (across the street) and little gifts from one of Steve's co-workers (Michelle). I thought making a secret window might be a great way to make a thank-you card, work on cutting skills, and cover episodic memory. We spent the week cutting out the secret window, decorating it with memorable pictures, and gluing the box. Her drawings all reflect gifts given to her by Oma and Michelle.

One of my goals is to talk less (pausing to give Pamela greater opportunity to speak), talk more declaratively, and spotlight my emotions and her emotions. I can see lots of improvement on this front from the video clips from earlier in the month.


Positives: Pamela references me during the conversation and speaks up more than she usually does without me having to prod her. In fact, our exchanges were even in quantity, and we did maintain an 80-20 declarative to imperative ratio. She talked about the attributes of her boxes and gifts, predicted how Oma and Michelle would react, responded to my comments, etc. She expressed joy by clapping!

Challenges: A siren went off about halfway through, but Pamela continued her focus.

Tips: I need to gasp even less when she shows interest. I need to replace the raised voice prompting with declarative sentences.

Emotion Sharing

In his RDI material, Dr. Gutstein makes a distinction between instrumental interactions and experience sharing. As I work with Pamela in an RDI fashion, the difference is finally becoming clear to me. I will try to explain what I understand as a novice in RDI.

While emotions may appear similar, the motive behind them is what makes the difference between the two. In instrumental interactions, one person sees the other person as a means to an end: the person is expecting a specific outcome and, as long as the other person accomplishes the task in question, it does not matter who the other person is. With Pamela, her instrumental interactions tend to be verbal scripting: making sure that the schedule she has in mind is still on track, verbal stimming games, etc. When my sister-in-law visited us last month, my sil picked up Pamela's verbal stimming games very quickly and, to Pamela, it mattered not who was in the stim script, as long as the player knew the right answers and the acceptable ways of introducing novelty. Pamela smiles broadly or fusses loudly depending upon how well we are following the plan she has in mind. She shows genuine excitement and beautiful smiles when we stim back and forth.

Experience sharing is different because there is no end in mind. You interact for the sake of interacting. Each experience is different for you have no script. An experience shared with one person is unique and cannot be duplicated. You cannot reference a previous experience with one person and expect another person to spring off of that. One key aspect of experience sharing begins with the letter e, and that is EMOTION. Both kinds of interactions may have emotions, but the point of one (instrumental interaction) is a specific outcome and the point of the other (experience sharing) is emotion.

One technique that the RDI folks recommend most for novice RDI families is to speak in declarative language. The basic idea is that children will be more receptive to sharing emotions unprompted when you stop bossing them around all the time with imperative language (commands) and interrogative language (questions) and start sharing your own observations in an open-ended way. (This is so much like Charlotte Mason's thoughts on masterly inactivity!) In fact, the RDI site emphasizes declarative language and indirect prompts as a key component of this program:

• Predominant use of declarative communication. Minimal use of interrogatives, directives and other forms of imperative communication.
• Creating frequent periods of "productive uncertainty" to provide the child opportunities for referencing.
• Reliance on indirect prompts whenever possible

One reason why it helps me to tape a few RDI activities every day is that I can see how I am doing in the habit of declarative language. (All too often I am dismayed by how much room I have for improvement.) Today, I was so excited during one activity in which I had hidden a toy in a dark bathroom. As we walked in the bathroom, instead of commanding, "Pamela, turn on the light", I said, "Ooo, we need some light in here." Without a pause, Pamela flipped on the light and I thanked her. It was still too dark for the camera, so I added, "I need some more light, Pamela! That's not enough light." She walked right over to the other light and flipped that switch, too! Had she opted to ignore my request, I would have turned on the lights myself and made another declarative comment like, "Oh, wow! I can see so much better with those bright lights."

Yesterday, Pamela and I shared several experiences that I think qualify as emotion sharing.

* While playing ball, she giggled and smiled for no obvious reason. She was not stimming verbally, the source of many of her beautiful smiles. I smiled back and laughed too, especially when I realized I was not part of a script.

* Sometimes during our ball games, a ball will bounce down the steps just outside our homeschool room. We sit together and hear it go thump, thump, thump down the steps. We have plenty of other balls and continue playing, but whenever that happens, we smile and make declarative comments about the lost ball.

* While we were reading Pamela's speech therapy script for articulation and syntax practice, I inserted a couple of silly words to make sure she is listening: "The moon is under the bed" or "My closet has ice cream and pickles". Yesterday, she turned the tables on me and said two things wrong and then looked at me to see if I would react! We both smiled when I caught her in the act and realized she was trying to pull a fast one one me!

* Her brother David is playing his first season of baseball. Today, Pamela sat through her second game, so this is a novel experience. At one point, a pop fly zoomed high into the air and flew behind the stands, across the road, and into a grass field near someone's house. Pamela laughed and made a comment about it being magic. Whenever balls land in unexpected places, we exchanged glances and laughed.

We are working on one RDI-like activity during the game. Whenever David's team made a run, Pamela and I high-fived each other. I am open to any and all suggestions. Another great RDI activity for us is the self-checkout line at Wal-Mart. I shift my gaze to items in the shopping cart, and Pamela references my face to figure out which one I want her to scan. She scans the item, and I bag it. On big shopping trips, we are getting many chances to communicate non-verbally.