Sad Panda

I thought that after finding out what was up with Chi (why is he so WEIRD, anyway? Surely, not because I am, heh.) we could move into a more proactive phase of childrearing and put all of the structures and tools in place to stop regression before it started. (Although, now that I look back, I had NO CLUE that regression was going to be part and parcel of raising a child with Asperger’s.) I thought all the therapy, all the money spent, all the nifty tools purchased, all the meetings with teachers and administrators would naturally ease Chi’s way through life and make everything easy, and ooooh, I don’t know, normal.

This has not been the case. No matter how many books I read. No matter how much money we throw at it. No matter how many therapists we see. NO MATTER WHAT. Life with Asperger’s; life with SPD is REACTIVE. We remain on the defense. Our defensive line has to win by playing the game as the offense dictates it to us. Never will we dominate the offense and make them play the game OUR way. And VERY RARELY will we actually put our offense on the field. That’s not the way this thing works.

Chi’s been sliding backward a little in the last couple of weeks, and the regression has been marked in the last few days. This morning, he said not one single word of English. NOT ONE. He moaned, groaned, squeaked and chirrupped his way through the morning giving me a splitting headache, that I cannot get rid of, in the process.

We’ve been lucky this school year that the small backwards steps seem to resolve themselves in a relatively short amount of time and things continue in a more forward sort of direction. I hate to admit that I get so used to things being good, and dare I say, even normal, that when Chi starts shutting down, I flinch away at first. I try to ignore him and then, as if I’ve lost the ability to deal with these things, I completely lose it and yell. (Not screaming, as such, but I snap at him) So, as he has gradually regressed over the last couple of weeks, I’ve been having to have little talks with myself about patience and looking for the root of the problem (there seldom is one glaringly obvious one) and dealing with it in a helpful manner.

This morning, after the not talking and the absolute FAIL that was our morning pep-conversation, I was tracing Pieces’ hand and thinking. Things have changed at school. Chi isn’t dealing.

INFORMATIVE MOMENT: School this year, third grad year, has been almost entirely about taking this End of Grade (EOG) Test that kids now take EVERY YEAR once they reach the third grade. Starting early in March there are EOG camps for special needs kids. Starting early in March, the classes start taking practice tests. The individual subjects themselves are now taught in a way that aligns them more with how things are going to be worded on the EOG; how questions are going to look and therefore how they need to be answered. The content of the classes has changed. The subjects not covered in the EOG’s are being shuffled off to the side in favor of spending even more time learning, talking, working, and practicing for the EOG.

These changes are rocking Chi’s world. He is very rigid. There is no bending when it comes to his schedule or his

BUT I was gonna go to Toshi Station to pick up power converters!!!

expectations. When it is time for Math and he goes into his class and instead of the teacher explaining something new or expanding existing knowledge, the teacher plops a sheet of paper covered with 200 problems on it and says, “Do this as fast as you can…GO!” He doesn’t pick up his pencil thinking that he can be the first to complete this paper. He just stops functioning all together. He may stop hearing. He may stop speaking. He may stop using muscles to hold himself upright. He may start stimming. He may hide under his desk. He may start kicking the legs of his chair REPEATEDLY. He may chirrup or squeak uncontrollably. It can vary depending on several factors. 1) how stimulated is he? 2) is this the first time this has happened today, in this class, this week? 3) does he struggle with this subject under normal circumstances? 4) was he already out of sorts from some other surprise thrown at him?  etc. And Math? Well, Math is his favorite subject. Imagine if it were something he hated.

It burns us, Precious!

Now, I found out that he basically piled himself into a heap at school and chirrupped at Ms. Eff after I dropped him off at the door. He wouldn’t even sit in his chair. Now’s the time for reaction, I guess, since being proactive hasn’t eliminated the regression I had been working toward avoiding all year long.

**sigh**  Reactive sucks, but it’s what I’ve got. Off to contact Ms. Eff for a conference and see what we can come up with.

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