On December 6th, 2016 our nation may have turned a new corner in the annals of hate. Richard Spencer, who advocates that the United States become an Aryan nation - a man who hides behind a seemingly benign and objective "National Policy Institute," was confronted when he spoke at Texas A&M about his favorite topics, like the need for oppressed whites to have their own country. What was curious was his response to the person exercising the first amendment right of protest - the same right he invokes when he plants the seeds of hate.
His response to the woman opposing him was "Cool down the autism...." followed by "...look how fat you are."
So it's come to this. The epithet that people, from adolescents to those of hard core of hate will now be using as a slight is the accusation that someone has "autism." It reminds me of my high school days when we used "mental" as a bash. Now millions take Prozac and it's quite normal. 15 years ago when my kids were in high school and the put down of the day was how "gay" something was. It took a lot of work for us to teach them that sexual orientation was not a topic to bash. It took a lot of work for us to teach our children that demeaning others was wrong. Period. Whether sexual orientation, weight, religion, we worked hard to instill in our children that hate speech is wrong.
So now, someone in the spotlight of the news, using the 15 minutes of fame accorded him by Andy Warhol accuses another opposing his hate baiting of "autism." Autism that can be cooled down. This is not the forum to review what autism is. His ignorance won't be changed by reviewing the neurological complexities and subtleties of the disorder, the breadth of autism's wake or the intensity of its most severe presentation, the emotional or financial expense endured by families with a child with autism. I imagine those who believe in the unique nature of "whiteness" would also believe that autism is an affectation of some sort that can be "cool"ed.
That spotlight, one in which the Nazi salute is normative, is one that sadly is influencing the ignorant quotient of the nation. The thought that his brand of hate is now legitimized in the bashing of autism as the new "N" word is as appalling as it is absurd. But racism and hate, as we know, is indeed absurd. Absurdity seems to now be the new norm.
A junior high school mentality might be, can I say, forgiven? After all, people in their early teens are not those to whom we look for moral guidance. They're still developing. But Mr. Spencer is an adult. Maybe we can blame his parents for not intervening? Maybe it all started with his potty training? Nope, he's just a hater. And even people with autism know that hate is wrong.
Wednesday, December 7, 2016
Monday, November 21, 2016
"I Pulled the Car Over"
It was the simplest of statements. A mom I've been working with regarding her only child said that while doing errands her daughter went on a bit of a rant with her about a whole long list of things, some clearly pertinent, some that seemed less so. Mom's review of the incident with me included her stating "I pulled the car over to speak with her about it." Mom then proceeded to spend the time needed to listen to her daughter and begin to talk the issues through before resuming the chores.
Imagine that. Telling a child that her concerns are so important that the chores can wait. No multi-tasking. People have a hard time not multi-tasking when waiting on the check out line these days - the emails, calls, texts and social media posting just CAN'T wait. Seemingly. No minimizing of her concern. How many of us have said "that's just not true" or an equivalent dismissal to kids who are learning to communicate with us? How many of us have just ignored them?
So when this mom said to her child that the chores can wait, she said "there's nothing more important that I can do right now than listen to you when you're expressing your concerns to me," it gives me reassurance that regardless of the choice the child may make with the issues she has, this mom has a bead on something quite important.
I'm often reminded that we who are parents would absolutely lay our lives down for our kids - it's important they know that. But most of us don't live in war zones. When heaven forbid something bad happens to our kids, we'd happily take the hit for them, and I think kids know that, even when it's impossible for us to accomplish. But, do your kids know you're willing to pull the car over for them when they need to talk? Most all of us live in driving zones.
Imagine that. Telling a child that her concerns are so important that the chores can wait. No multi-tasking. People have a hard time not multi-tasking when waiting on the check out line these days - the emails, calls, texts and social media posting just CAN'T wait. Seemingly. No minimizing of her concern. How many of us have said "that's just not true" or an equivalent dismissal to kids who are learning to communicate with us? How many of us have just ignored them?
So when this mom said to her child that the chores can wait, she said "there's nothing more important that I can do right now than listen to you when you're expressing your concerns to me," it gives me reassurance that regardless of the choice the child may make with the issues she has, this mom has a bead on something quite important.
I'm often reminded that we who are parents would absolutely lay our lives down for our kids - it's important they know that. But most of us don't live in war zones. When heaven forbid something bad happens to our kids, we'd happily take the hit for them, and I think kids know that, even when it's impossible for us to accomplish. But, do your kids know you're willing to pull the car over for them when they need to talk? Most all of us live in driving zones.
Thursday, October 6, 2016
Different Differences
I was intrigued by an interview I heard with Robert Hoge who wrote a children's book, a memoir about being ugly. Hoge was born with severe birth defects - his legs were malformed and ultimately both had to be amputated. While he quickly adapted to walking with prosthetics (that he quickly shed after school, having learned to move about quite well without them), it was his face that inspired the book.
Hoge was born with a large tumor right at the bridge of his nose. The tumor was able to be removed, but it's growth totally absorbed his nose and resulted in a severe spreading of his facial features. It was years before his eyes were moved enough to the front that he could focus on one thing at a time instead of seeing more like a fish or other creature that has eyes spread on both sides of the skull. He endured countless surgeries and made the decision at 14 to pass on the "big" surgery that would, said the doctors, make him look good, but there was a catch (that I won't reveal, to avoid spoiling the story more than I have). His story was compelling and well worth the read, for adults, children and, I believe, particularly for kids with autism and other developmental disabilities.
People with autism and other DD's often become aware of how "different" they feel, and it can cause a great deal of distress. I hear it all the time from them in different ways. Younger kids who just don't wan't to be different without the ability to articulate why. College kids with HFA who, despite their valiant efforts can't find the romance they see all of their friends achieving. We all want to "belong" to the "group." Social relationships are critical for us, even for many people with autism who might not as connected with others as we think they might. I think there are lots of folks with autism who don't feel the strength of social connection that NT's (neurotypicals) feel, but feel connection - or want to - none the less. Their awareness of being different interferes with their ability to connect at the level they care to.
Hoge had an awareness that I thought was wise beyond his elementary years when he came upon it. He began to notice that he wasn't the only person who was different. There was the kid in a wheelchair. Another kid who need more academic help. And others who had their unique differences as well. As Hoge put it, he noticed that he just had "different differences."
Different differences. What a beautiful way of understanding the variety of the human condition. It's something I've already encouraged some of the kids I work with to consider, to read. Because after all, aren't we all different? Accepting the reality of who we are, warts (or tumors) and all is often a very long and difficult struggle. But it's a struggle that's worth it.
Hoge was born with a large tumor right at the bridge of his nose. The tumor was able to be removed, but it's growth totally absorbed his nose and resulted in a severe spreading of his facial features. It was years before his eyes were moved enough to the front that he could focus on one thing at a time instead of seeing more like a fish or other creature that has eyes spread on both sides of the skull. He endured countless surgeries and made the decision at 14 to pass on the "big" surgery that would, said the doctors, make him look good, but there was a catch (that I won't reveal, to avoid spoiling the story more than I have). His story was compelling and well worth the read, for adults, children and, I believe, particularly for kids with autism and other developmental disabilities.
People with autism and other DD's often become aware of how "different" they feel, and it can cause a great deal of distress. I hear it all the time from them in different ways. Younger kids who just don't wan't to be different without the ability to articulate why. College kids with HFA who, despite their valiant efforts can't find the romance they see all of their friends achieving. We all want to "belong" to the "group." Social relationships are critical for us, even for many people with autism who might not as connected with others as we think they might. I think there are lots of folks with autism who don't feel the strength of social connection that NT's (neurotypicals) feel, but feel connection - or want to - none the less. Their awareness of being different interferes with their ability to connect at the level they care to.
Hoge had an awareness that I thought was wise beyond his elementary years when he came upon it. He began to notice that he wasn't the only person who was different. There was the kid in a wheelchair. Another kid who need more academic help. And others who had their unique differences as well. As Hoge put it, he noticed that he just had "different differences."
Different differences. What a beautiful way of understanding the variety of the human condition. It's something I've already encouraged some of the kids I work with to consider, to read. Because after all, aren't we all different? Accepting the reality of who we are, warts (or tumors) and all is often a very long and difficult struggle. But it's a struggle that's worth it.
Monday, September 5, 2016
Fingernails On The Chalkboard, Autism and Success in the Workplace
It's a sound almost all of us are familiar with - the sound that sets our ear on edge, the harsh sound of fingers slowly scratching their way across a chalkboard, a sound that, prior to whiteboards and smartboards was sure to make the girls squeal. And the guys squirm. It's a sound I've used as a metaphor in my work having to do with getting used to something that just sounds uncomfortable.
It may be a husband needing to learn how to listed to his wife without proffering solutions. Men often don't understand that the listening is as important, and often more important than fixing the problems. Men, being hammers, tend to see everything as nails. Thus, when she speaks, husbands want to fix. Listening can seem uncomfortable, even wrong. Just like the sound of fingernails on the chalkboard.
I often use the metaphor in the following way: imagine if a new form of "Hunger Games" government declared that we all must engage in 1 minute of fingernail on the chalkboard noise per hour. We'd all hate it at first, but after a number of weeks or months, we'd accommodate to it. Some better, some worse, but we'd accommodate. Or a less onerous government declared that we all must (MUST) play 1 hour of tennis per week. Well for the tennis players that'd be great. For the rest of us, we'd have to learn, and it'd be hard. Many of us would absolutely stink at first, we're older, fatter, not in shape or athletically inclined or just don't want to play tennis for an hour per week. But as it's the requirement of the government, we do it. All of us, even the least prepared and the least inclined, would improve, even if begrudgingly.
The thought came up again when I was speaking with a close friend and colleague about the difficulty "high functioning" folks on the spectrum experience in the workplace. We both see lots of "HFA" folks and (putting aside the oft mistaken notion that engineers "must" have autism") folks who really do have autism and succeed in the workplace seem to have some things in common.
One thing HFA folks often do is focus well on their work - when the work is a good fit for them. One thing they tend to do as well is tolerate (even if awkwardly) the interpersonal relationships so many "NT"s (neurotypicals) thrive on in the workplace. It may not be a struggle, it just might be tolerance of the requirement to have the level of social interaction that the NT's insist upon. Depending on the person, the amount of insistence on social involvement in the workplace is tolerated. Like the above mentioned tennis or fingernails on the chalkboard examples. Pick your metaphor. But what it's likely just not is natural and comfortable. It's tolerated.
I have been observing that many of successful adult HFA clients have learned to tolerate social interaction in the workplace. They often don't "get" the social needs and subtleties of the NT community, but they understand it's a requirement for them to succeed.
It may be a husband needing to learn how to listed to his wife without proffering solutions. Men often don't understand that the listening is as important, and often more important than fixing the problems. Men, being hammers, tend to see everything as nails. Thus, when she speaks, husbands want to fix. Listening can seem uncomfortable, even wrong. Just like the sound of fingernails on the chalkboard.
I often use the metaphor in the following way: imagine if a new form of "Hunger Games" government declared that we all must engage in 1 minute of fingernail on the chalkboard noise per hour. We'd all hate it at first, but after a number of weeks or months, we'd accommodate to it. Some better, some worse, but we'd accommodate. Or a less onerous government declared that we all must (MUST) play 1 hour of tennis per week. Well for the tennis players that'd be great. For the rest of us, we'd have to learn, and it'd be hard. Many of us would absolutely stink at first, we're older, fatter, not in shape or athletically inclined or just don't want to play tennis for an hour per week. But as it's the requirement of the government, we do it. All of us, even the least prepared and the least inclined, would improve, even if begrudgingly.
The thought came up again when I was speaking with a close friend and colleague about the difficulty "high functioning" folks on the spectrum experience in the workplace. We both see lots of "HFA" folks and (putting aside the oft mistaken notion that engineers "must" have autism") folks who really do have autism and succeed in the workplace seem to have some things in common.
One thing HFA folks often do is focus well on their work - when the work is a good fit for them. One thing they tend to do as well is tolerate (even if awkwardly) the interpersonal relationships so many "NT"s (neurotypicals) thrive on in the workplace. It may not be a struggle, it just might be tolerance of the requirement to have the level of social interaction that the NT's insist upon. Depending on the person, the amount of insistence on social involvement in the workplace is tolerated. Like the above mentioned tennis or fingernails on the chalkboard examples. Pick your metaphor. But what it's likely just not is natural and comfortable. It's tolerated.
I have been observing that many of successful adult HFA clients have learned to tolerate social interaction in the workplace. They often don't "get" the social needs and subtleties of the NT community, but they understand it's a requirement for them to succeed.
Monday, June 20, 2016
Angry Dads, Angry Moms - The Struggles of Parenting
As with all posts, materiel changes to descriptions are made for reasons of confidentiality.
Heard recently in my meetings with clients:
"He's willing to travel from Chicago to see his nephew's college graduation, but won't set aside to visit his daughter," said a mom, now happily remarried of her ex's relationship to their daughter.
"He yells at me, no matter what I say or do," referring to his father, says a college freshman who's received a full scholarship to an ivy league college.
"All he does is yell at my kids," says a mom of her second husband.
I've been aware lately of angry parents expressing anger to their kids. Anger can be active, in the form of yelling, swearing, intimidation, actual physical abuse or passive, in the form of cancelling of visitations, non initiation of visitations (for which the children thirst) or putting the children in the middle of parental struggles.
Despite divorce decrees that almost uniformly instruct parents to insulate the children from their often ongoing disputes, parents so frequently disparage their former partner to their kids. Kids come into sessions describing their parents' hurtful antics, their pain poorly disguised. And this despite parents' almost universal denial that they'd ever speak poorly of their ex or put their kid in the middle.
The examples would curl your hair, but are, I believe, actually symptoms of other maladies. Yes, when parents misbehave with their children it is usually symptomatic of their fatigue, their depression, an expression of their own lack of skills to cope with the loss of their marriage and of their children to whatever time the children visit their ex, the seduction of gossip and their denial of the import their parenthood has.
What are the stresses parents have?
Financial: child support can be a burden, particularly when parents are jealous of their ex's ability to collect monies that, despite legal mandate, feel unfair. It galls a parent who believes they have been betrayed or worse to pay money to the person who hurt them so deeply. Indeed two do live more cheaply than one, and while a couple might share the financial/home duties with one being the primary earner and the other not earning at all, or earning a modest wage, those norms are often shattered with divorce, creating two individual single parents who have to learn to juggle both income generation and the full responsibilities of parenting.
Single Parenting: Being a single parent can be stressful, financially as well as emotionally. Trying to date while having primary responsibility for children is a complicated matter with parents trying to balance the needs of their children with their own emotional needs to create deep and loving attachments. Being remarried might not bring the relief desired, as children often resent the "new" parent and/or the step parent is often hesitant to become embroiled in what is obviously a complex process between biological parents and the children.
Mental Health: The frequency of mental health challenges of adults is well documented elsewhere. It's hard enough to cope with things like depression, bi-polar disorder, anxiety, addiction with the support of a partner. Coping with them alone or with the combination of the variety of other stresses mentioned here and elsewhere is difficult beyond what can be described. One of my personal beefs regards the number of men who are surly and irritable, firmly denying or minimizing that they might be depressed, when irritability is a classic sign of depression. Men are no less vulnerable to mental health challenges than are women. Period.
Legal: Just as marriage is a legal relationship, so is divorce. Everyone has a legal right to representation, as it should be. But the stress of legal actions regarding modifications of visitation and claims of contempt due to extreme distortion of relatively minor incidents are thinly veiled aggressions against one another. People spend absurd amounts of money on these actions (see finances above) and the amount of energy and time spent as well invariably leaks its emotional sludge down onto the children.
Gossip is a seductive and subtle way that hurts children. Gossip is hard for almost all of us to combat, but when one parent gossips about their ex, the child learns so many lessons - all of them bad - about relationships. Gossip severely harms, even when it is factually based. How many kids "learn" of a parent's extra marital affair? It's bad enough that these things happen and are hurtful to a marriage. Revealing them to children creates hut that is unlikely to ever fully resolve. Further, it instructs children that this sort of behavior is, essentially, normative. Remember, "normal" is whatever happens to you. Children growing up in hurtful settings, whether dysfunctional homes or war zones (they can really resemble one another) learn that their situation is "normal." In those cases, what do those children bring to their adult love relationships? What have they observed and learned about how adults manage their stress?
A short digression about the power of gossip is told: In teaching a student about the danger of gossip, the teacher ascended to the top of a tall building holding a feather pillow on a windy day The teacher instructed the student to rip open the feather pillow, allowing the feathers to be taken by the wind, swirling them around as far as the eye could see. The teacher asked the student to assess how difficult it would be to collect the feathers and stuff the pillow again. The student looked at the teacher incredulously, as collecting the myriad of feathers now scattering through the neighborhood would be impossible. The teacher responded that gossip is like the feathers. Once they are out, there's no getting them back.
Our society has come to view divorce, addiction, extra marital affairs and the accompanied varieties of pain and suffering as normal, as they all happen so often. Yet invariably, the children suffer the most.
Heard recently in my meetings with clients:
"He's willing to travel from Chicago to see his nephew's college graduation, but won't set aside to visit his daughter," said a mom, now happily remarried of her ex's relationship to their daughter.
"He yells at me, no matter what I say or do," referring to his father, says a college freshman who's received a full scholarship to an ivy league college.
"All he does is yell at my kids," says a mom of her second husband.
I've been aware lately of angry parents expressing anger to their kids. Anger can be active, in the form of yelling, swearing, intimidation, actual physical abuse or passive, in the form of cancelling of visitations, non initiation of visitations (for which the children thirst) or putting the children in the middle of parental struggles.
Despite divorce decrees that almost uniformly instruct parents to insulate the children from their often ongoing disputes, parents so frequently disparage their former partner to their kids. Kids come into sessions describing their parents' hurtful antics, their pain poorly disguised. And this despite parents' almost universal denial that they'd ever speak poorly of their ex or put their kid in the middle.
The examples would curl your hair, but are, I believe, actually symptoms of other maladies. Yes, when parents misbehave with their children it is usually symptomatic of their fatigue, their depression, an expression of their own lack of skills to cope with the loss of their marriage and of their children to whatever time the children visit their ex, the seduction of gossip and their denial of the import their parenthood has.
What are the stresses parents have?
Financial: child support can be a burden, particularly when parents are jealous of their ex's ability to collect monies that, despite legal mandate, feel unfair. It galls a parent who believes they have been betrayed or worse to pay money to the person who hurt them so deeply. Indeed two do live more cheaply than one, and while a couple might share the financial/home duties with one being the primary earner and the other not earning at all, or earning a modest wage, those norms are often shattered with divorce, creating two individual single parents who have to learn to juggle both income generation and the full responsibilities of parenting.
Single Parenting: Being a single parent can be stressful, financially as well as emotionally. Trying to date while having primary responsibility for children is a complicated matter with parents trying to balance the needs of their children with their own emotional needs to create deep and loving attachments. Being remarried might not bring the relief desired, as children often resent the "new" parent and/or the step parent is often hesitant to become embroiled in what is obviously a complex process between biological parents and the children.
Mental Health: The frequency of mental health challenges of adults is well documented elsewhere. It's hard enough to cope with things like depression, bi-polar disorder, anxiety, addiction with the support of a partner. Coping with them alone or with the combination of the variety of other stresses mentioned here and elsewhere is difficult beyond what can be described. One of my personal beefs regards the number of men who are surly and irritable, firmly denying or minimizing that they might be depressed, when irritability is a classic sign of depression. Men are no less vulnerable to mental health challenges than are women. Period.
Legal: Just as marriage is a legal relationship, so is divorce. Everyone has a legal right to representation, as it should be. But the stress of legal actions regarding modifications of visitation and claims of contempt due to extreme distortion of relatively minor incidents are thinly veiled aggressions against one another. People spend absurd amounts of money on these actions (see finances above) and the amount of energy and time spent as well invariably leaks its emotional sludge down onto the children.
Gossip is a seductive and subtle way that hurts children. Gossip is hard for almost all of us to combat, but when one parent gossips about their ex, the child learns so many lessons - all of them bad - about relationships. Gossip severely harms, even when it is factually based. How many kids "learn" of a parent's extra marital affair? It's bad enough that these things happen and are hurtful to a marriage. Revealing them to children creates hut that is unlikely to ever fully resolve. Further, it instructs children that this sort of behavior is, essentially, normative. Remember, "normal" is whatever happens to you. Children growing up in hurtful settings, whether dysfunctional homes or war zones (they can really resemble one another) learn that their situation is "normal." In those cases, what do those children bring to their adult love relationships? What have they observed and learned about how adults manage their stress?
A short digression about the power of gossip is told: In teaching a student about the danger of gossip, the teacher ascended to the top of a tall building holding a feather pillow on a windy day The teacher instructed the student to rip open the feather pillow, allowing the feathers to be taken by the wind, swirling them around as far as the eye could see. The teacher asked the student to assess how difficult it would be to collect the feathers and stuff the pillow again. The student looked at the teacher incredulously, as collecting the myriad of feathers now scattering through the neighborhood would be impossible. The teacher responded that gossip is like the feathers. Once they are out, there's no getting them back.
Our society has come to view divorce, addiction, extra marital affairs and the accompanied varieties of pain and suffering as normal, as they all happen so often. Yet invariably, the children suffer the most.
Monday, May 23, 2016
Simple Rules for Children
While having dinner with a friend recently, he shared advice he gave one of his grandchildren, let's call it a boy who was having a difficult time coping with the variety of stresses that can affect a child in the early elementary years. The difficulties he was having are a bit besides the point for this discussion.
He told his grandson 3 simple rules of life:
1. Smile and the whole world smiles with you. Cry and you cry alone.
2. If you look for trouble, there will always be people around willing to help you find it.
3. When you are happy, you win, when you are sad, you lose.
I see a great deal of wisdom in these rules:
1. Smile and the whole world smiles with you. Cry and you cry alone. Having a positive attitude is a critical skill to child development (and not too shabby a skill for the rest of us to work on either.) My friend's grandchild often would cry as a way of getting attention. At some point, if you cry a lot (or complain a lot for the adults who need translation), people will begin to tune you out, or at least discount the veracity of your concerns. Ultimately we can find ourselves pretty isolated, wondering why we no longer have the attention to our concerns that we believe they merit. It can easily lead to the lesson learned in "The Boy Who Cried Wolf" fable.
Loneliness is a horrible place to be. Crying alone all the more so. Most of us have experienced times of loneliness and know about its isolation and sadness. It can create its own whirlpool of stagnation, with loneliness leading to tears that are ultimately shed alone, which is sad, depressing, and leads back to more loneliness.
Learning how to smile and, as a result, creating a positive attitude is always a win. We all know people who are amazingly bright and cheerful (you may even be lucky enough to be one of them!) We all can cite examples of how much the success of a smile brings success in relationships, business and life. We see the proof of this daily.
2. If you look for trouble, there will always be people around willing to help you find it. My friend's grandson had a habit of getting attention by instigating conflict with siblings - a trick as old as the hills. Provocation breeds conflict, and then the opportunity for attention. The boy was repeatedly provoking his siblings in a fashion that left him the victim (see #1) and he couldn't find a way out of it. Learning that trouble will find you much more easily if you are looking for it can assist in teaching the child to cease from looking for trouble.
My friend notes that these first two points are behavioral. Smiling is a behavior, as is "behaving badly" (a phrase often used by Ross Greene - see other posts on his work) is also a behavior The next one, he cites is emotional, drawing on our natural draw towards competition.
3. When you are happy you win. When you are sad, you lose. The "win - lose" paradigm is simple, yet elegant, to borrow a phrase. Its simplicity is in its view of causality. Happiness causes winning, sadness causes losing (so to speak.) The elegance is that what we win is so variable depending on ones' station in life. For children it might mean getting the positive attention that is a normal craving. For adults its often much more subtle, more varied, as the things that make us feel good are so often less tangible. But success, no matter its shape for form, no matter the age is a win.
I'm planning on using this and will let you know how it works. So far, for my friend's grandson, its working quite well - after his mom remarked about what a lovely sparkle he had in his eye at the playground, he explained to her in his own words, that when he's happy, he wins.
He told his grandson 3 simple rules of life:
1. Smile and the whole world smiles with you. Cry and you cry alone.
2. If you look for trouble, there will always be people around willing to help you find it.
3. When you are happy, you win, when you are sad, you lose.
I see a great deal of wisdom in these rules:
1. Smile and the whole world smiles with you. Cry and you cry alone. Having a positive attitude is a critical skill to child development (and not too shabby a skill for the rest of us to work on either.) My friend's grandchild often would cry as a way of getting attention. At some point, if you cry a lot (or complain a lot for the adults who need translation), people will begin to tune you out, or at least discount the veracity of your concerns. Ultimately we can find ourselves pretty isolated, wondering why we no longer have the attention to our concerns that we believe they merit. It can easily lead to the lesson learned in "The Boy Who Cried Wolf" fable.
Loneliness is a horrible place to be. Crying alone all the more so. Most of us have experienced times of loneliness and know about its isolation and sadness. It can create its own whirlpool of stagnation, with loneliness leading to tears that are ultimately shed alone, which is sad, depressing, and leads back to more loneliness.
Learning how to smile and, as a result, creating a positive attitude is always a win. We all know people who are amazingly bright and cheerful (you may even be lucky enough to be one of them!) We all can cite examples of how much the success of a smile brings success in relationships, business and life. We see the proof of this daily.
2. If you look for trouble, there will always be people around willing to help you find it. My friend's grandson had a habit of getting attention by instigating conflict with siblings - a trick as old as the hills. Provocation breeds conflict, and then the opportunity for attention. The boy was repeatedly provoking his siblings in a fashion that left him the victim (see #1) and he couldn't find a way out of it. Learning that trouble will find you much more easily if you are looking for it can assist in teaching the child to cease from looking for trouble.
My friend notes that these first two points are behavioral. Smiling is a behavior, as is "behaving badly" (a phrase often used by Ross Greene - see other posts on his work) is also a behavior The next one, he cites is emotional, drawing on our natural draw towards competition.
3. When you are happy you win. When you are sad, you lose. The "win - lose" paradigm is simple, yet elegant, to borrow a phrase. Its simplicity is in its view of causality. Happiness causes winning, sadness causes losing (so to speak.) The elegance is that what we win is so variable depending on ones' station in life. For children it might mean getting the positive attention that is a normal craving. For adults its often much more subtle, more varied, as the things that make us feel good are so often less tangible. But success, no matter its shape for form, no matter the age is a win.
I'm planning on using this and will let you know how it works. So far, for my friend's grandson, its working quite well - after his mom remarked about what a lovely sparkle he had in his eye at the playground, he explained to her in his own words, that when he's happy, he wins.
Monday, May 16, 2016
High School Social Rule Confusion for High Schoolers With High Functioning Autism
As with all posts, materiel changes have been made to protect confidentiality.
Jim is a pretty typical high school junior. He's quite smart, particularly in science and math and is quite socially awkward, not in small part due to his longstanding diagnosis of Asperger's (now categorized as "high functioning autism" (HFA) but let's not get too stuck on labels here.)
Though Jim's never dated, he has a couple of geeky friends who are boys with whom he gets together to play video games and discuss their books replete with complex development of other worldly characters. Fantasy and science fiction have an almost Biblical status for Jim and his friends, to the point that they sometimes forego their school work while engaging in reading or playing video games consistent with their passions.
So Jim was caught off guard recently when one of the girls in school inserted herself into the mix of Jim and his friends. She continued what adolescents have been doing with one another since the dawn of, well, since the dawn of adolescent life; she began to "split" Jim and his friends for no clear reason. (I theorize that the girl may have been exhibiting her own brand of flirting with either Jim or his friends, but didn't have the sophistication to do it kindly.)
She began by engaging Jim in a discussion about his close friend. Jim, naively fell into the trap of saying something negative about his closest friend that the girl immediately brought to his friend's attention. Thus the split; Jim and his good friend were now fighting, the girl is able to create a connection with the friend. A play that's as readable as a sacrifice bunt moving the runner to second base, and often as effective.
What Jim's struggling with his that he was the sacrifice, or to put it in group dynamic terms: he was "triangulated out" of the group. By aligning with Jim's friend against Jim, the girl was able to create a close(r) relationship to his friend and create animosity from the friend to Jim. The friend believes that Jim betrayed him, all this at the hands of the girl. It's pretty easy to understand, unless you're Jim.
Jim's thinking is fairly concrete, not unusual for someone with HFA. Jim is forlorn, he misses his friend, and just doesn't understand what happened. These are emotions with which he's unfamiliar. They were tight, and now they are not. He was misunderstood, why can't his friend understand? Why is his friend taking so long to get over the fact that they were played against one another (the girl, apparently in this case, has moved on.)
This kind of social difficulty is quite common for kids on the spectrum. He's stuck on the betrayal he feels from the girl's distortion of his words. He's sad at the potential for having lost a friend. He doesn't know what to do. And I don't have a simple solution.
Tony Attwood explained the experience of this population well in one of his early books on Asperger's when he said (I believe in the name of one of his clients) that being here on earth feels like being a Martian who's arrived on a strange planet with strange rules. That is, the rules here are unknown, mysterious, random, and the learning curve to adapt to this civilization is long and complex. This is the dilemma Jim's going through. He's pained by not understanding the emotional gamesmanship that are the complexity of adolescents, and feels victimized. We discussed the "rules" of hurtful communication like this - indeed they are hard to understand, but Jim's smart, I think he'll do OK. Like the rest of us, he needs time to heal.
Jim is a pretty typical high school junior. He's quite smart, particularly in science and math and is quite socially awkward, not in small part due to his longstanding diagnosis of Asperger's (now categorized as "high functioning autism" (HFA) but let's not get too stuck on labels here.)
Though Jim's never dated, he has a couple of geeky friends who are boys with whom he gets together to play video games and discuss their books replete with complex development of other worldly characters. Fantasy and science fiction have an almost Biblical status for Jim and his friends, to the point that they sometimes forego their school work while engaging in reading or playing video games consistent with their passions.
So Jim was caught off guard recently when one of the girls in school inserted herself into the mix of Jim and his friends. She continued what adolescents have been doing with one another since the dawn of, well, since the dawn of adolescent life; she began to "split" Jim and his friends for no clear reason. (I theorize that the girl may have been exhibiting her own brand of flirting with either Jim or his friends, but didn't have the sophistication to do it kindly.)
She began by engaging Jim in a discussion about his close friend. Jim, naively fell into the trap of saying something negative about his closest friend that the girl immediately brought to his friend's attention. Thus the split; Jim and his good friend were now fighting, the girl is able to create a connection with the friend. A play that's as readable as a sacrifice bunt moving the runner to second base, and often as effective.
What Jim's struggling with his that he was the sacrifice, or to put it in group dynamic terms: he was "triangulated out" of the group. By aligning with Jim's friend against Jim, the girl was able to create a close(r) relationship to his friend and create animosity from the friend to Jim. The friend believes that Jim betrayed him, all this at the hands of the girl. It's pretty easy to understand, unless you're Jim.
Jim's thinking is fairly concrete, not unusual for someone with HFA. Jim is forlorn, he misses his friend, and just doesn't understand what happened. These are emotions with which he's unfamiliar. They were tight, and now they are not. He was misunderstood, why can't his friend understand? Why is his friend taking so long to get over the fact that they were played against one another (the girl, apparently in this case, has moved on.)
This kind of social difficulty is quite common for kids on the spectrum. He's stuck on the betrayal he feels from the girl's distortion of his words. He's sad at the potential for having lost a friend. He doesn't know what to do. And I don't have a simple solution.
Tony Attwood explained the experience of this population well in one of his early books on Asperger's when he said (I believe in the name of one of his clients) that being here on earth feels like being a Martian who's arrived on a strange planet with strange rules. That is, the rules here are unknown, mysterious, random, and the learning curve to adapt to this civilization is long and complex. This is the dilemma Jim's going through. He's pained by not understanding the emotional gamesmanship that are the complexity of adolescents, and feels victimized. We discussed the "rules" of hurtful communication like this - indeed they are hard to understand, but Jim's smart, I think he'll do OK. Like the rest of us, he needs time to heal.
Tuesday, April 5, 2016
Random Sentences, Powerful Words
"I feel broken." "I'm afraid I'll be killed [because I'm a black male]" "My dad didn't teach me how to make friends."
I've heard these three statements recently from three different clients and they've given me pause to think. Each has been a powerful statement that has stuck in my mind. Without revealing anything that would violate the speakers' confidentiality, I'd like to comment.
"I feel broken." This from a young man who grew up in a violent home, his parents physically hurting one another and their children. His parents throwing hurtful comments at one another and the kids. This young man is smart, quite smart in fact and his diagnosis of Asperger's is not immediately apparent when first meeting him. Despite his autism, he's struggling with how to establish healthy adult relationships, fearful that any relationship he enters will replicate the pain he experienced as a child. His pain is palpable and fills our sessions. His strengths are as evident: intelligence, wit, wisdom. How will he move past his pain and into his strengths? I look forward to see the course of our discussions and his move through anxiety will allow for repair of what he experiences as broken.
"I'm afraid I'll be killed [because I'm a black male]." A smart and athletic pre-teen old said this recently in our first meeting. He's learned of our culture's increased awareness of the violence perpetrated upon black men by the police via the news, what is being said in school and the community. His fear has turned into anxiety and depression and, as can happen with anxiety and depression, he has sometimes exhibited anger. Anger, of course, is a touchstone issue for the African American community and AA men in particular. The stream of anger in response to the black experience is as old as slavery itself, a hurt that is documented in the Bible and continues to plague our society to this day. The understandable anger of this history, both recent and long past, is the very thing that makes him vulnerable to being "profiled" or identified by the white community as being a danger. And he knows this. His parents know this. His simple plea "I'm afraid I'll be killed" sticks in my mind as the plea of countless generations of people burdened by hate. Its the historic cry of enslaved people of color, of women enslaved in sexual slavery, of children conscripted in war to kill their neighbors and family, of citizens who walk the street in almost any country fearing a suicide bomber. How can this beautiful child move into a society where he will be seen in the same light of God as whomever is viewing him?
"My mom didn't teach me how to make friends." I heard this recently and was amazed at the desperation of the comment. This was a young woman just out of high school who was floundering, drinking heavily and emotionally struggling and searching. She's smart, but terribly confused about her burden. Her mother's contributions to her current status is marginal. Her hope to successfully blame her mother will fail. Her first and foremost problem is her episodic but excessive drinking that renders her severely depressed with all of the anticipated results severe depression brings. Anything else to address has to happen after she stops using alcohol. I rarely pity someone, but when I heard this desperate statement, a cry of hopelessness, I pitied her.
These statements have impacted me and led to my becoming more introspective, considering the power of the words I say and the words my clients say when considering their existence. Words are powerful. I encourage the reader to consider theirs deeply.
I've heard these three statements recently from three different clients and they've given me pause to think. Each has been a powerful statement that has stuck in my mind. Without revealing anything that would violate the speakers' confidentiality, I'd like to comment.
"I feel broken." This from a young man who grew up in a violent home, his parents physically hurting one another and their children. His parents throwing hurtful comments at one another and the kids. This young man is smart, quite smart in fact and his diagnosis of Asperger's is not immediately apparent when first meeting him. Despite his autism, he's struggling with how to establish healthy adult relationships, fearful that any relationship he enters will replicate the pain he experienced as a child. His pain is palpable and fills our sessions. His strengths are as evident: intelligence, wit, wisdom. How will he move past his pain and into his strengths? I look forward to see the course of our discussions and his move through anxiety will allow for repair of what he experiences as broken.
"I'm afraid I'll be killed [because I'm a black male]." A smart and athletic pre-teen old said this recently in our first meeting. He's learned of our culture's increased awareness of the violence perpetrated upon black men by the police via the news, what is being said in school and the community. His fear has turned into anxiety and depression and, as can happen with anxiety and depression, he has sometimes exhibited anger. Anger, of course, is a touchstone issue for the African American community and AA men in particular. The stream of anger in response to the black experience is as old as slavery itself, a hurt that is documented in the Bible and continues to plague our society to this day. The understandable anger of this history, both recent and long past, is the very thing that makes him vulnerable to being "profiled" or identified by the white community as being a danger. And he knows this. His parents know this. His simple plea "I'm afraid I'll be killed" sticks in my mind as the plea of countless generations of people burdened by hate. Its the historic cry of enslaved people of color, of women enslaved in sexual slavery, of children conscripted in war to kill their neighbors and family, of citizens who walk the street in almost any country fearing a suicide bomber. How can this beautiful child move into a society where he will be seen in the same light of God as whomever is viewing him?
"My mom didn't teach me how to make friends." I heard this recently and was amazed at the desperation of the comment. This was a young woman just out of high school who was floundering, drinking heavily and emotionally struggling and searching. She's smart, but terribly confused about her burden. Her mother's contributions to her current status is marginal. Her hope to successfully blame her mother will fail. Her first and foremost problem is her episodic but excessive drinking that renders her severely depressed with all of the anticipated results severe depression brings. Anything else to address has to happen after she stops using alcohol. I rarely pity someone, but when I heard this desperate statement, a cry of hopelessness, I pitied her.
These statements have impacted me and led to my becoming more introspective, considering the power of the words I say and the words my clients say when considering their existence. Words are powerful. I encourage the reader to consider theirs deeply.
Monday, March 7, 2016
Family Dynamics and Sibling Order Counts - Even In Our 90's
A friend of mine told me of an interesting exchange between two elderly siblings that, I think, sheds a very interesting light on the power of sibling relationships and, by extension, the power of family dynamics.
The elder sibling, let's call him Tom, is close to his 95th birthday and is approaching that milestone in relatively good health. That be said, he is experiencing increasing short term memory loss that results in an in between status. There are some things he's able to discuss quite cogently. Other things are difficult for him due to his memory loss. His presentation is also marked by his significant hearing loss. All in all, not atypical for a 95 year old guy.
His brother Sam is 91. Sam's career was similar to his older brother's, they've not lived in the same city since the late 50's and were not particularly close as their lives led them through the roller coaster of raising children, career, retirement and after decades of marriage, the loss of their respective wives. In retirement they began to speak a bit more frequently and even vacationed with one another a few times. It was a pretty traditional sibling relationship.
Sam was recently was diagnosed with cancer. Upon receiving the diagnosis his doctor advised that at 91 he might opt for palliative care. Doing so would allow Sam time to make sure his affairs were in order and prepare for what's to come in an orderly fashion. Sam, a product of the era that listened to doctors' advice seriously, considered the recommendation while his children (wisely, I think) immediately embarked upon a search for a second opinion. The second doctor ultimately strongly encouraged treating the cancer and Sam is now in treatment.
But before that second opinion happened, Sam spoke with his almost 95 year old brother, Tom who didn't hesitate in his recommendation that the cancer be treated. Sam's daughter remarked at how quickly Sam listened to Tom's rationale which was a common sensical "Why not? What have you got to lose?" Immediately after hanging up the phone, before the second opinion with another doctor, Sam announced to his kids that he would pursue treatment. Tom said so, and that was it.
Now Tom's opinion, if I might say, was not particularly a rocket science conclusion. Sam's 91, so what indeed does he have to lose? More importantly, what was it about his older brother's comment that swung his opinion? His daughter who related the story to me was clear - Sam's decision to pursue treatment was made on his older brother's recommendation and guidance. The imploring of his 4 kids who were united in their desire for Sam to get treatment did not sway him.
It strikes me how deeply our family relationships effect us, often in ways we might not even know. Our roles as parents, our roles as children and yes, our roles as siblings. The imprinting we receive as a result of our families of origin is as deep as it is subtle. Even at the age of 91, putting medical recommendations and the pleading of children aside, it was the simple comment of an older brother that swayed Sam. Such is the power of a family system, the power of how familial roles can impact our views and decisions
The elder sibling, let's call him Tom, is close to his 95th birthday and is approaching that milestone in relatively good health. That be said, he is experiencing increasing short term memory loss that results in an in between status. There are some things he's able to discuss quite cogently. Other things are difficult for him due to his memory loss. His presentation is also marked by his significant hearing loss. All in all, not atypical for a 95 year old guy.
His brother Sam is 91. Sam's career was similar to his older brother's, they've not lived in the same city since the late 50's and were not particularly close as their lives led them through the roller coaster of raising children, career, retirement and after decades of marriage, the loss of their respective wives. In retirement they began to speak a bit more frequently and even vacationed with one another a few times. It was a pretty traditional sibling relationship.
Sam was recently was diagnosed with cancer. Upon receiving the diagnosis his doctor advised that at 91 he might opt for palliative care. Doing so would allow Sam time to make sure his affairs were in order and prepare for what's to come in an orderly fashion. Sam, a product of the era that listened to doctors' advice seriously, considered the recommendation while his children (wisely, I think) immediately embarked upon a search for a second opinion. The second doctor ultimately strongly encouraged treating the cancer and Sam is now in treatment.
But before that second opinion happened, Sam spoke with his almost 95 year old brother, Tom who didn't hesitate in his recommendation that the cancer be treated. Sam's daughter remarked at how quickly Sam listened to Tom's rationale which was a common sensical "Why not? What have you got to lose?" Immediately after hanging up the phone, before the second opinion with another doctor, Sam announced to his kids that he would pursue treatment. Tom said so, and that was it.
Now Tom's opinion, if I might say, was not particularly a rocket science conclusion. Sam's 91, so what indeed does he have to lose? More importantly, what was it about his older brother's comment that swung his opinion? His daughter who related the story to me was clear - Sam's decision to pursue treatment was made on his older brother's recommendation and guidance. The imploring of his 4 kids who were united in their desire for Sam to get treatment did not sway him.
It strikes me how deeply our family relationships effect us, often in ways we might not even know. Our roles as parents, our roles as children and yes, our roles as siblings. The imprinting we receive as a result of our families of origin is as deep as it is subtle. Even at the age of 91, putting medical recommendations and the pleading of children aside, it was the simple comment of an older brother that swayed Sam. Such is the power of a family system, the power of how familial roles can impact our views and decisions
Wednesday, March 2, 2016
Eyes Wide Open
As with all posts in this blog, materiel changes are made to protect the identity of clients.
Jimmy's been a tough kid to work with. When addressed he often buries his head in mom's lap or into the cushions of the couch. His dad isn't in the picture, but mom's boyfriend, in the home for 6 years, has been a warm and beneficial presence in Jimmy's life. He's 10 and is a classically ADHD oppositional kid at home and school. He's bright, and as I often tell parents, "smart + ADHD = (often) a tougher kid."
He recently was suspended. Again. We've been using The "Collaborative and Proactive Solutions" model I've been discussing so frequently in these posts. See elsewhere for more background on that. The CPS model works pretty well with him, but admittedly there have been limits - mom's work doesn't allow for much flexibility, so we've not been able to meet as frequently as needed.
None the less, I struck forth with my "what's up" questioning about the difficulty he had in school upon receiving a routine homework assignment. He was hard to reach, but I persisted and was patient, as is often required in the "drilling" process of the "empathy step" where we ask the child about the problem, trying to learn as much as possible about his experience as he tried to tunnel into the couch.
Slowly, a bit painfully, Jimmy was able to explain the latest outburst that led to this suspension. He mentioned that "it wasn't written on the board." Mom and I looked at one another, both of us not understanding the statement. I asked further and he related that whenever there's to be homework in the class it's written on the board when he walks in the room so he's prepared to write it down when cued at the end of class. That day the teacher hadn't written it down prior to the kids entering the room, so he didn't anticipate homework that day.
Mom's eyes opened wide in acknowledgement of Jimmy's description of the essence of the problem at the same time that I clarified with him that this indeed was the issue that led to his explosion. Moving to the "problem solving" stage of the process was a fairly easy, with the caveat that mom couldn't really "collaborate" on behalf of the school, but she was optimistic that she'd be able to communicate to the teacher and staff what the issue was and how they might "collaborate" with Jimmy to avoid such problems in the future.
I've seen parents' eyes open wide like this in the past when using the CPS method. It's always a bit exciting when they see into their child's experience. I'll be interested in hearing how Jimmy's homework issues in that class have been addressed when we next meet.
Jimmy's been a tough kid to work with. When addressed he often buries his head in mom's lap or into the cushions of the couch. His dad isn't in the picture, but mom's boyfriend, in the home for 6 years, has been a warm and beneficial presence in Jimmy's life. He's 10 and is a classically ADHD oppositional kid at home and school. He's bright, and as I often tell parents, "smart + ADHD = (often) a tougher kid."
He recently was suspended. Again. We've been using The "Collaborative and Proactive Solutions" model I've been discussing so frequently in these posts. See elsewhere for more background on that. The CPS model works pretty well with him, but admittedly there have been limits - mom's work doesn't allow for much flexibility, so we've not been able to meet as frequently as needed.
None the less, I struck forth with my "what's up" questioning about the difficulty he had in school upon receiving a routine homework assignment. He was hard to reach, but I persisted and was patient, as is often required in the "drilling" process of the "empathy step" where we ask the child about the problem, trying to learn as much as possible about his experience as he tried to tunnel into the couch.
Slowly, a bit painfully, Jimmy was able to explain the latest outburst that led to this suspension. He mentioned that "it wasn't written on the board." Mom and I looked at one another, both of us not understanding the statement. I asked further and he related that whenever there's to be homework in the class it's written on the board when he walks in the room so he's prepared to write it down when cued at the end of class. That day the teacher hadn't written it down prior to the kids entering the room, so he didn't anticipate homework that day.
Mom's eyes opened wide in acknowledgement of Jimmy's description of the essence of the problem at the same time that I clarified with him that this indeed was the issue that led to his explosion. Moving to the "problem solving" stage of the process was a fairly easy, with the caveat that mom couldn't really "collaborate" on behalf of the school, but she was optimistic that she'd be able to communicate to the teacher and staff what the issue was and how they might "collaborate" with Jimmy to avoid such problems in the future.
I've seen parents' eyes open wide like this in the past when using the CPS method. It's always a bit exciting when they see into their child's experience. I'll be interested in hearing how Jimmy's homework issues in that class have been addressed when we next meet.
Monday, February 8, 2016
Explosive Kids, Parents and Timing
As with all posts, any description of people I see in therapy is materially changed for reasons of confidentiality
One of my favorite jokes is when I ask a person to ask me ..."what's the key to good comedy?"j Before they finish the sentence, I interrupt them with the answer "timing." It's a great joke and I was reminded of it recently.
It started as a mess but resulted in a great step forward with a couple I've worked with for many years. Theirs is a complicated history, well beyond the scope of this posting. One problem is that they have a tendency to fight. Hard. Ugly. In front of the kids. You can use your imagination as to how hurtful it becomes. It's a toxic habit they've just not been able to break despite all they know and despite all of my strategies and interventions.
Coming to see me recently they had another fight, this one in the car. They walked in the door, sat down calmly and noted that often the only time they have to communicate with one another (given the demands of work and kids) is when they're coming to or leaving my office. (The sardonic humorist in me speculated that the answer might be to discontinue coming to see me to reduce the fighting.) As they discussed it he said, gently, that he just wasn't prepared to continue the discussion at that moment. The heat was still too high and he was still too hurt by the vitriol she had spewed (see above re: ugly and hard - you can use your imagination.) She agreed that it wasn't the time. And that was that. The anger dissipated. They still had things to work on, but now just wasn't the time. For this couple it was a major step forward. Fighting when angry is so often just destructive, whether in marriage or between parent and child.
Which got me to thinking about "proactive" intervention, discussed at length in Ross Greene's "Collaborative and Proactive Solutions" model outlined in his book The Explosive Child. I'm thinking about his model a lot (if you've read any of the recent posts) in my work with kids, and, it works out, with adults.
Being proactive means that the intervention being used is one that is done at a calm time, but that is targeted to a known problem that is certain to recur. "Emotional Focused Couples Therapy" recommends the same technique when working with couples that Greene recommends in CPS. We know what problems are coming down the road. Thus we need to focus on them before they reach us and not when they are upon us. It's a common sense approach, but one that requires planning. In the ADHD world we live in where "distractability" is the norm, being proactive is difficult to accomplish. I'd also pose that "reactivity" isn't such a great approach. Think for a moment - how well is being reactive working as compare to those times that you take the time to proactively discuss a problem and come up with a solution. Being proactive invites collaboration - there's a lot less emotional heat, a lot less ego in the discussion, less pride, all of which allows for a much better solution.
Whether in marriage, with kids, at work, doesn't being proactive make more sense? It just requires doing something a bit different. We're all used to doing things differently, we know change is a constant in life. This is one thing that when changed, changes a lot.
One of my favorite jokes is when I ask a person to ask me ..."what's the key to good comedy?"j Before they finish the sentence, I interrupt them with the answer "timing." It's a great joke and I was reminded of it recently.
It started as a mess but resulted in a great step forward with a couple I've worked with for many years. Theirs is a complicated history, well beyond the scope of this posting. One problem is that they have a tendency to fight. Hard. Ugly. In front of the kids. You can use your imagination as to how hurtful it becomes. It's a toxic habit they've just not been able to break despite all they know and despite all of my strategies and interventions.
Coming to see me recently they had another fight, this one in the car. They walked in the door, sat down calmly and noted that often the only time they have to communicate with one another (given the demands of work and kids) is when they're coming to or leaving my office. (The sardonic humorist in me speculated that the answer might be to discontinue coming to see me to reduce the fighting.) As they discussed it he said, gently, that he just wasn't prepared to continue the discussion at that moment. The heat was still too high and he was still too hurt by the vitriol she had spewed (see above re: ugly and hard - you can use your imagination.) She agreed that it wasn't the time. And that was that. The anger dissipated. They still had things to work on, but now just wasn't the time. For this couple it was a major step forward. Fighting when angry is so often just destructive, whether in marriage or between parent and child.
Which got me to thinking about "proactive" intervention, discussed at length in Ross Greene's "Collaborative and Proactive Solutions" model outlined in his book The Explosive Child. I'm thinking about his model a lot (if you've read any of the recent posts) in my work with kids, and, it works out, with adults.
Being proactive means that the intervention being used is one that is done at a calm time, but that is targeted to a known problem that is certain to recur. "Emotional Focused Couples Therapy" recommends the same technique when working with couples that Greene recommends in CPS. We know what problems are coming down the road. Thus we need to focus on them before they reach us and not when they are upon us. It's a common sense approach, but one that requires planning. In the ADHD world we live in where "distractability" is the norm, being proactive is difficult to accomplish. I'd also pose that "reactivity" isn't such a great approach. Think for a moment - how well is being reactive working as compare to those times that you take the time to proactively discuss a problem and come up with a solution. Being proactive invites collaboration - there's a lot less emotional heat, a lot less ego in the discussion, less pride, all of which allows for a much better solution.
Whether in marriage, with kids, at work, doesn't being proactive make more sense? It just requires doing something a bit different. We're all used to doing things differently, we know change is a constant in life. This is one thing that when changed, changes a lot.
Tuesday, January 12, 2016
Drilling and The Explosive Child
"Drilling" is how, in Collaborative and Proactive Solutions (from Ross Greene's The Explosive Child), we learn more about children's thoughts and feelings regarding problems posed to them. Drilling for information is not, as Greene aptly states, "grilling." Children are not to be interrogated. They are to be questioned in a way that aligns us with them - which is a different conceptualization than the traditional hierarchic structure most of us are used to - the family system having its "executive branch" of the parents and the children being "subordinate" to them. And while I'm not opposed to this model - indeed I see great benefit to it - with certain kids there's a limit to what this model can achieve. Thus, collaboration.
Paula is an almost 10 year old girl in a family that I've been working with for a while. There have been many challenges that are not pertinent for this discussion (the reader will note that all clinical examples are materially changed for reasons of confidentiality) but the issue at hand for Paula is homework.
Admittedly, she has some challenges in her math skills - particularly when working with dad, for reasons that became clear as we drilled, meaning essentially that we pursued a line of thought re: the problem at hand. We began with the broad ("clumped" in Greene's language) problem of "agreeing on when to begin homework." When asked which homework was the most likely to have a hard time agreeing about, she admitted it was math. Now math is a pretty broad subject, it has lots of pieces. We explored this and she was able to clarify that her toughest area was when she had to address:
1. new math concepts that had been recently introduced in class
2. some fraction concepts
3. understanding which math operation was indicated by simple word problems.
Well, that's a lot less "clumped" isn't it?
It might be tempting to wrap it up there. But until she says that we've fully understood the problem, we continue to drill. How does dad's presence effect her difficulty in doing homework? Paula's response? She doesn't like simply to be "told what to do" with the homework by dad. Well, that's interesting isn't it? How many of us would assume that telling the child what do is helping them with their homework? Not so much for Paula.
Were we done? We used the simple "review and ask" drilling suggestion. We reviewed that she had difficulty:
1. with new math concepts
2. with some fraction concepts
3. understanding which math operation was indicated by simple word problems
4. being simply told what to do when stuck doing math
Anything else difficult doing the math homework? She fidgeted in her seat and paused. Her older sister Natalie told her she's "dumb" because she doesn't do math as well as Natalie. She teared, she was sad. It was easy to see how difficult this was for her. When asked what else might be going on, Paula was clear, we had it all. This was it, these were the problems she experienced with math.
So we now end up with 5 problems - the last being the teasing from Natlalie - as interfering with her ability to do her math homework.
In CPS we want to de-clump the problems. We do so by asking, drilling, for more information. We ultimately learned with Paula there are 5 problems, not one. So when it comes to problem solving, we now have 5 things to collaborate about. Is it do-able? Yes. More complicated? Yes. Does Paula deserve the time and focus on these problems? Of course - she's their child!
One of the criticisms I've heard about CPS is that it "takes too long." That may be. But I think Paula's worth taking the time to collaborate on each and every problem she has with math so that she can
1. get the math
2. learn that she can solve problems with her parents' help and guidance
3. learn that Natalie may not be right.
It may take more time, but by devoting the time more prescriptively, more accurately, we may accomplish a lot, and make Paula's future math and math homework experience a lot easier.
I'd day those are worthwhile goals.
Paula is an almost 10 year old girl in a family that I've been working with for a while. There have been many challenges that are not pertinent for this discussion (the reader will note that all clinical examples are materially changed for reasons of confidentiality) but the issue at hand for Paula is homework.
Admittedly, she has some challenges in her math skills - particularly when working with dad, for reasons that became clear as we drilled, meaning essentially that we pursued a line of thought re: the problem at hand. We began with the broad ("clumped" in Greene's language) problem of "agreeing on when to begin homework." When asked which homework was the most likely to have a hard time agreeing about, she admitted it was math. Now math is a pretty broad subject, it has lots of pieces. We explored this and she was able to clarify that her toughest area was when she had to address:
1. new math concepts that had been recently introduced in class
2. some fraction concepts
3. understanding which math operation was indicated by simple word problems.
Well, that's a lot less "clumped" isn't it?
It might be tempting to wrap it up there. But until she says that we've fully understood the problem, we continue to drill. How does dad's presence effect her difficulty in doing homework? Paula's response? She doesn't like simply to be "told what to do" with the homework by dad. Well, that's interesting isn't it? How many of us would assume that telling the child what do is helping them with their homework? Not so much for Paula.
Were we done? We used the simple "review and ask" drilling suggestion. We reviewed that she had difficulty:
1. with new math concepts
2. with some fraction concepts
3. understanding which math operation was indicated by simple word problems
4. being simply told what to do when stuck doing math
Anything else difficult doing the math homework? She fidgeted in her seat and paused. Her older sister Natalie told her she's "dumb" because she doesn't do math as well as Natalie. She teared, she was sad. It was easy to see how difficult this was for her. When asked what else might be going on, Paula was clear, we had it all. This was it, these were the problems she experienced with math.
So we now end up with 5 problems - the last being the teasing from Natlalie - as interfering with her ability to do her math homework.
In CPS we want to de-clump the problems. We do so by asking, drilling, for more information. We ultimately learned with Paula there are 5 problems, not one. So when it comes to problem solving, we now have 5 things to collaborate about. Is it do-able? Yes. More complicated? Yes. Does Paula deserve the time and focus on these problems? Of course - she's their child!
One of the criticisms I've heard about CPS is that it "takes too long." That may be. But I think Paula's worth taking the time to collaborate on each and every problem she has with math so that she can
1. get the math
2. learn that she can solve problems with her parents' help and guidance
3. learn that Natalie may not be right.
It may take more time, but by devoting the time more prescriptively, more accurately, we may accomplish a lot, and make Paula's future math and math homework experience a lot easier.
I'd day those are worthwhile goals.
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