Leveraging Learning

My son is coming home tonight from a week-long school trip to Vancouver, B.C. Technically, this was an international trip for him, so I warned him ahead of time not to call or text. But we set up accounts with WhatsApp so that we could - um - communicate. My son is on the autism spectrum, but more significantly, I am a mother. As a mom, I worry. Did he eat enough? Is he cold? Because some of his pictures on Facebook show snow.. Has he run out of money? Should I be concerned? The other significant fact is that my son is almost 17. When he was diagnosed at the age of two, I worried that he would never talk. Or read. Or write. Or listen. Or love learning. Or be "normal." So in spite of all my motherly angst about the sleeping and the layers, I am so very proud of my boy for NOT communicating. How much more normal can you get than a teenager NOT telling his mom what he is doing?! Recognizing that I am "living the dream" of parents of children with autism, I de...

Setbacks are a part of life. And we will all go through those stretches when setbacks are a BIG part of life. Many people I know are in the midst of one of those stretches when the hits just keep on coming. One friend is in the midst of a frustrating job search. A student I know is trying to psych herself up to start school at her second choice college. As a generally positive person, I find that I can cope with a moderate level of setbacks. Most people can, but it is when the level of setbacks rises, that I struggle to remain positive, hopeful and optimistic about the future. At least, that is how I've been feeling for the last two weeks. But then I had some advice from Russell Wilson. In his commencement speech last Saturday at the University of Wisconsin, Wilson spoke of his own setbacks and gave some advice on moving beyond the frustrations of life telling you no. The truth is, we hear no a lot throughout our entire lives. For children, it can be an hourly occurrence. ...

I never did like toads. I remember going to the local park with my family as a child and being anxious that I would see one. Or one might touch me. My father always said, the toad is more afraid of you than you are of it. I always doubted that, but he said it all the time. My anxiety was not exclusive to toads, however. Boys, radiators, public speaking, and crossing the street by the library were all things that I worried about throughout childhood. It was hard to do somethings, but I always found a way. Except for when toads were involved. Last Friday, I attended a workshop about anxiety in schools. I learned what anxiety is and how we as educators can support students who struggle. All people experience anxiety and it serves an evolutional purpose, as it helps us to perform better. Anxiety become a problem when it gets in the way of our "joyful development" into the people that we are. Take my toad example: How many fun games did I miss out on because they took p...

My son is a freshman in high school. For me, being a freshman was a difficult journey, but he carries the mantle more graciously than I ever did. Being a freshman means finding your way. It's about deciding who you will be, what you will do, how you will spend your time and why you will get out of bed in the morning. If you are lucky, you will find people to help you on your way - friends, teachers, teammates, people with similar interests. If you are really lucky, these people will not only provide companionship, but also guidance, support and encouragement. My son is an actor and just yesterday, his troupe finished their run of Damn Yankees. The production was fantastic - the singing, the dancing, the set, the sound were all student led and all remarkable in their own way. At the final performance, the students had the opportunity to buy a carnation and attach a note for their peers. It was really great to see how many of the students chose to send good wishes to their ...

I vividly remember rolling my eyes when the assistant principal announced that I would be getting a classroom volunteer. "Oh, great," I thought, "more work for me." The volunteer in question turned out to be great. She was engaging, funny, proactive and the students loved her. I was sad when the moved on. But my initial reaction stuck with me for a long time. Whenever the subject of parent volunteers came up, I was skeptical. What does this mean for me? Will this be worth it? What are their motives? Don't they have jobs? Super snooty, right? Recently, I have become more enlightened on the matter, as I have been doing some volunteering myself. I know that the teachers probably roll their eyes when they see me coming, but I really don't care. I volunteer because I am grateful for the opportunity my kid has to do cool things. If I can help behind the scenes with the play by printing programs, hanging up posters, organizing other volunteers or being a chee...

So I was accepted to graduate school. Again. Earlier this academic year, I'd looked into some doctoral programs. The idea really excited me, but being the mom of two teenagers is an expensive proposition - especially on an educator's salary. So I figured I'd scale back. That dream can wait a little longer... I finished my Masters' when my youngest was one. He' about to turn 15, so that was a while ago. And now I shall get another one. Yes, I learn all day. Yes, I actively seek new knowledge from colleagues, students, parents, mentors, conferences and Twitter. I read all the time. Ask questions. Wonder. Ponder. Think. It's a good life. But I would be lying if the schoolgirl within - who always dreamed of being a teacher and loved being a student - isn't jumping up and down today. She knows the value of being in class, of asking questions, stretching her thinking and muscling through required readings. It was for her that I decided to do this. And so...

My oldest son is on the autism spectrum. For the first several years of his life, he had no language. We communicated through signs, pictures, pointing, crying and codes. It was hard and there was a lot of guessing on my part. But as frustrating as it was for me, I am certain that it was torture for him. He had something to say - always - and no opportunity to say it. This post, however, is not about my family's journey through the delights of autism. Whether or not we are verbal or non-verbal, we all have something to say. Sometimes our somethings are funny. Sometimes they communicate need. Often, we have something to say that lets other know what and how we are thinking. Having watched my boy struggle to say his somethings has taught me the value of voice. Whether our something is insightful, ridiculous, mundane or meaningful, we all must have the opportunity to say it. Last night, I was at a parent meeting hosted by the school district that my younger son attends. It was ver...