Inspiration

Today at Jordan Lake School of the Arts, D. J. Svoboda talked to our students. D. J., age 27, is an adult artist living with autism. As a child he was picked on and bullied by classmates, so he created a happier place to be called Imagiville. Imagiville is filled with wondrous creatures, colorful and friendly, always encouraging and never mean. The weather is always great and the fruit is always sweet. D. J. began drawing the inhabitants of Imagiville, practicing until he could draw them just as he imagined them. Imagifriends are intricate and totally engaging. As D. J. says, "They come in many sizes, colors, and designs. None of them are ever mean or cruel. They each have their own special job and purpose in Imagiville. Every Imagifriend knows that as long as they have a kind heart, it does not matter what they look like."

D. J. wasn't content to just doodle away for his own entertainment. He had a larger purpose and a dream. He wanted to market his creations and to spread the word that it's okay to be different and that we all have things to do. And so he set out to do just that. He now sells reproductions of his creatures, along with a story book, a coloring book, mouse pads, tote bags, mugs and cards. He has an Iphone app and contracts with PBS's Arthur, Sesame Street, and Southwest Airlines.

As the kids listened today, I could tell they were absolutely enthralled. I don't blame them; I was as well. Many of the kids at JLSA have had the hope educated out of them, and here was a young man who had been through similar ordeals and had turned his pain into an asset. I don't think we've seen the last of this guy. I'm glad I can say I knew him before he hit the big time!

Not for the easily offended . . .

I never know what will motivate a particular student in the beginning. D., one of my kids with autism, informed me from the beginning that he didn't do games. He just wanted to get the tutoring over with and he stoically endured whatever I asked him to do, as long as it wasn't games. He seemed totally uninterested in learning to read. That changed when we got to consonant digraphs.

As my students should be able to tell you, a consonant digraph is two letters that make one sound. We had finished with sh and were working on -ck, always a dangerous one with seventh grade boys. I placed the letter tiles to make the word ship on the magnet board. He read it in his usual monotone voice. Suddenly he froze, staring at the word. I waited, curious as to what had finally captured his attention. His hand reached out and replaced the p with a t. Then he looked up at me questioningly. "Yes," I said, "that says exactly what you think it does. But we don't use words like that in tutoring." I put the magnets back in their places, trying hard to keep a straight face.

A few minutes later, I noticed the -ck tile was missing. I didn't say anything. But when the f tile went missing as well, I put on my stern voice. "D., you need to put those back. I said we didn't use words like that." His face was so crestfallen that I couldn't stand it. "But if we did," I continued, "what vowel would you use?" "U! u! u!" he shouted. "I've always wanted to know how to spell those words!"

He never again tried out dirty words on me. But he had a whole new interest in learning to read. Within three years this nonreader was reading on a twelfth grade level. Sometimes it's all in the motivation.

The two sides of helicopter moms

I want to pass on an excellent article about helicopter moms from my friend Alison, mother of three autistic sons. She does a great job of pointing out the positives that are often overlooked when talking about parents with this negative term. While she refers to parents of kids with autism, it is true for any parent of a special needs child. Thanks Alison!

http://autismsocietyofnc.wordpress.com/2009/12/01/warning-helicopter-moms/