All the tough decisions---autism life in a COVID world

As the months go by and we are still living in this endless COVID bad dream, I suspect all of us living lives affected by autism are starting to feel the strain increase.  It's not at all easy for anyone, but for kids like Janey, and families like ours and so many of yours, it's a special kind of tough.

Starting with the new year, it seemed, Janey got more challenging.  We all did.  It's been a long, long haul, and it's winter, and the cases were increasing, and we all had been stuck together as a family for far longer than is mentally healthy.  The biggest issue was sleep.  Janey's sleep started a pattern of one night okay, one night with either a very late going to sleep time or a very early waking up time, and then one night of absolutely no sleep.  And although we did our bests to catnap while she was awake, or to sleep well on the nights she did, that kind of sleep cycle...wow.  We were snapping at each other, constantly tense, really not doing well.  

Janey, in trying to cope, I think, was developing some quite repetitive routines.  One was watching Toy Story 4, and sometimes Toy Story 2, over and over and over.  The other shows and movies she used to like weren't being watched at all.  And not even all of the two Toy Stories were, just certain scenes, repeated time after time.  And while watching them, Janey would laugh, that laugh I think you all know, an insane sounding loud almost humorless laugh, a fake kind of high decibel laugh.  The nights she stayed awake all night would feature that laugh off and on for hours up on hours.

We kept trying, as we have been, to do school at home.  We do the morning meeting, at 8, for which Janey showed varying levels of engagement, and then video lessons such as books with a theme for the week or lessons like a great one her teachers have developed about body awareness and pain.  When we can catch her in the right mood, she'll listen with interest and answer questions, but other times, she simply screams at the top of her lungs at the very mention of the classes.  We resorted to making the lessons a requirement before car rides or other fun times.  That's not how I want school to be for her, some kind of chore.  And that's never how it has been.  None of this is the fault of her teachers, who are doing a hero's job of it all in the midst of impossible challenges.  It's that remote learning is not how Janey learns, and I don't think it ever will be.

With all this, we decided after huge family debate to request that Janey go back to school, which supposedly was available for kids of her level of disability.  We had turned down what was called the hybrid model of learning before, where she would have been able to go to school 4 days a week.  I thought this was a reversible decision, and that by requesting she switch out of remote, she'd be quickly able to return to school.  Well, I should have known better, as in one of the hugely contrasts that exist, the difference between the fantastic teachers in Boston and the (I won't use some of the words I'd like to use here) middle and upper level central administration of Boston, the admin people showed their colors again, and it seemed somehow either impossible or incredibly complicated to switch her model.  Meanwhile, somehow there was supposed to be a switch for most special needs kids to in person on February 1st, but in one of the many conflicting and complicated emails I got, we were told since Janey was in the highest needs level and we had before requested remote learning for her, now that those with less severe needs were going to be able to go back, our previous decision to be remote had to stand, unless we did some complicated other form and (presumably) prayed it worked.  If you are confused, so am I.

However, Janey's teacher and I had the idea that perhaps Janey could go to school for one day, or one day a week, for state testing she had to have.  Even just one day was such a thrill for all of us to think of.  So a week ago Thursday, Janey went to school for a day.  She had a wonderful day.  We had a wonderful day at home.  The effects of that one day, even, last for days and days---better sleep, better toilet use, better moods, and Tony and I, after 10 full months of absolutely zero respite, had about 4 hours to ourselves between driving her in and picking her up.

Part of the day at school was a COVID test.  Janey wasn't excited about the prospect, and resisted at first, but her teacher told her that after the nurse "tickled her nose", she could have a lot of salami.  Brilliant!  She gave Janey a minute, asked her if she was ready, Janey said yes, and the test was taken successfully.

That first week's test was negative. We took Janey to school again last Thursday, so happily.  I especially needed a break.  Midweek I had developed diverticulitis for the third time in three years, with a fever and lots of pain, and a remote appointment and antibiotics and warnings of what signs to go to the ER immediately if I got.  Janey was tested again that day.

Saturday morning Janey's teacher called us to say that the pooled test, where Janey and one other child's COVID tests were combined together and tested, were positive.  Either Janey had COVID, or the other child did, or both of them did.  The school nurse called me a few minutes later (her teacher called me first to tell me in person, which I so much appreciated)  She went over the next steps, which was to get Janey her own COVID test.  

We are getting Janey's test today.  And I'll just note here, when mayors and governors and so on urge testing, well, could they make it a little damn easier to get a test, even in a situation like this where there is more than just an exposure, where there is a 50% chance Janey has the virus?  Can they make it so you don't have to call around for hours and EXPLAIN to the nurse you finally talk to what pooled testing even is, and hear her say "I've never heard of that! That's stupid!  I don't understand why they would do that!" and then act like saying Janey could get a test is some kind of huge favor, and then asking me "Will she even cooperate with the test?"  

Janey has a few mild symptoms which might or might not be significant.  A few nights ago she was coughing a bit, and she had some diarrhea, which is rare for her.  But yesterday and today she seems perfectly healthy and happy.  And thankfully, the rest of us don't show any signs so far.  But still, of course, we have to quarantine, and in fact, the whole high school is going to have to go fully remote (although only about 20 kids weren't remote)  So, for now, our plans of having Janey go to school in person again are at the very least on hold for a while.

I don't have a strong conclusion here.  Were we wrong to send Janey in for those two days?  My older son strongly, strongly feels we were, and maybe he's right.  But as I told him, he hadn't been up night after night with Janey.  He wasn't the one responsible for keeping her together day after week after month, or for trying to get her to access an education in a way she didn't want to and couldn't seem to, she wasn't the one without one second of respite from a very high needs child for literally almost a year.  We want Janey to learn, to be with friends, to have fun, to get the benefits of the wonderful teachers and aides and therapists that are there for her.  But of course we also want to be well.  And you can't really be mad at a virus.  It's doing what all of us are doing---trying to stay alive and go on.  

I'll try to keep this blog updated on Janey's test results.  I hope you all are hanging in there.  Please know you aren't alone during these long months.  There's a lot of us out there living this life.  Whatever decisions you make about schooling, know that you are doing the best you can in your situation.  And join me in hoping that a year from now, this will be part of history.  Please.

"Listen to my mouth!"

Janey overall was having a fantastic day yesterday. She was cheerful and upbeat and fun, loving listening to Christmas music with me and having a car ride with Daddy after a day too snowy for a ride the day before. We were enjoying her company so much. Then, as happens, something changed. She started crying, screaming, freaking out over everything. We had no idea what was going on. I snuggled with her on her bed and tried talking about it, asking the same old questions I'm sure she's sick of---"What's wrong? Why are you sad? Does something hurt? How can I help?" She didn't answer. William came in the room and I asked again what was wrong, and somehow the combination of him being there and my asking seemed to bother her a lot, and she hit me hard. I stayed calm, told her that I didn't like being hit, told her I wasn't going to stay snuggling with someone who was hitting me, got up and walked away. She screamed and screamed and screamed.

 After a little while, when I'd gotten her to say she was sorry (with much prompting, and who knows why I ever bother, because I don't think she means it, but I need to have her say it), I went back to snuggling her. She then looked at me intently, stared in my eyes with a look that was unusual for her, and said, twice in a row "Listen to my mouth!" I don't know what it meant. I really don't. I don't think it meant to listen to what she was saying. Maybe it did. But she usually doesn't use language like that, in a slightly indirect way. And she wasn't saying anything about why she was upset. But it meant something. She took the effort to say it, and you could see it was an effort. I stayed up a long time in the night, trying to figure it out. It finally came to me that it might be related to what doctors say "I'm going to listen to your lungs now. I'm going to listen to your heart" I don't think she could pull up the words "lung" or "heart", and she might have been saying something in her mouth hurt and she wanted e to see that, or that she just felt sick and wanted help from a doctor. But she doesn't seem sick, doesn't have a fever, doesn't have low oxygen. In this COVID times, taking her to the doctor when she doens't seem sick is not really a good balance of safety and health. 

 The whole thing brought out so many issues. Why does she get upset out of the blue? Why is it so hard for her to tell us what is wrong? Why does she hit once in a while? What do mysterious phrases she says to us mean?

 The hitting seems like her way to say she's really, really seriously not liking something. She doesn't do it often at all now, and when she does, it doesn't have the feel of something spontaneous. It feels like a planned thing, at least planned a few seconds in advance. The last time she really hit me was when we were trying hard to do Zoom classes, and I told her it was time for one. I think last night she was telling me she really didn't like my endless questions. Of course, hitting is not at all the way I want her to communicate, and I need her to know that, but I also need to listen to what issues are upsetting enough for her that she feels she has to hit. 

 The "listen to my mouth"---phrases like that are about as frequent as hitting, not very frequent at all. You can tell she thinks about them before saying them. The way she looked at me was very striking. I could tell she really wanted me to pay attention. And it makes me feel awful that I wasn't able to quite get her message.

 It's frustrating so often, figuring out Janey's needs. I don't want her to be unhappy, but of course, like all of us, sometimes she's going to be unhappy. But it's so hard not knowing why she's unhappy. Was she just sick of being around me? Did she think about something upsetting? Did something hurt? Was it just too long a day, and she was tired? It's hard dealing with this, but of course I'm sure it's a million times harder for Janey, being so upset but so unable to explain why, doing her best to let me know in the way she can but not having me get it. Janey, I will try to listen to your mouth, and your heart, and your mind, and all of us. I am trying hard.

Janey and remote learning

 Zoom meetings. Remote learning.  Those terms, in the future, when hopefully this COVID year is a memory and school once again means actually going to school, are going to send a shiver through me.

Remote learning just doesn't work well for Janey.  To be fair, sometimes in person learning doesn't work well either, but that's if we look at things from a strictly academic perspective.  In person learning has almost always worked in terms of helping Janey---making her happier, teaching her social skills, giving her life a purpose, keeping her active, and giving her time with some of the finest people I've ever known, her teachers and paras and therapists.  Remote learning can't replace school for her.  It probably can't for anyone, but for Janey, it's been a bit of a nightmare

What's hard about it for her?  The biggest challenge is just getting her to sit down and listen and engage with the computer.  I say "the computer" and not "her teachers" because I truly don't think she understands the people she sees on the screen are her teachers.  I think she sees it as some kind of video that talks back to her and makes demands on her that regular videos don't.   Unlike how she watches TV, it also requires her to stay in one place, to listen in order, to answer things.  When she watches a video, she moves around constantly, rewinds often, changes shows, turns things off and on.  No-one asks her questions.  It's her time.  Now, she's suddenly, in her eyes, being asked to watch videos that oddly feature people she knows in real life, and to watch them without constantly getting up, and without being able to stop and start and switch around.  It's not her cup of tea, to say the least.

At school, everyone learns pretty quickly there's some days that Janey is ready to engage and some days she isn't, and some times during each day she's more alert and other times you can't get a word out of her.  But remote learning is only at certain set times each day, and they often aren't her chosen times.  Her poor sleep lately means that sometimes it's time to do school when she's sleepy, or hyped up from not sleeping, or just not in the mood.  She's been doing fairly well each morning at 8 with the morning check-in, but that's only about 10 minutes.  Even that requires us to remind her over and over and over to stay at the screen.

There is also so much that can't be captured on a screen.  There's so many times Janey has answered a question when she's muted, or pointed to something on a screen when it's not a touch screen, or gave a response to something that was asked minutes ago.  In a classroom, that would be noticed, but when a teacher is trying to teach 5 or 6 kids like Janey at once, or even in one on one sessions when Janey is not positioned right in front of the screen or loud enough or clear enough, so much is missed.

A classroom is full of activity, things to look at, things to engage with.  A screen isn't.  The teachers have done their level best, but nobody was trained for this.  It's not something we ever anticipated.

So...what do we do?  I am not sure.  I know I've pretty much given up on remote learning.  Janey goes to the morning meeting, has music therapy once a week and once in a while watches recorded lessons, but I am not pushing a lot more.  When I did, it wasn't pretty.  Janey reverted to scarily tough behaviors.  We got the message.

I want Janey back in the classroom, IF that is safe.  It's looking more like it might be, from my reading.  I don't think COVID is spread much at schools.  COVID is hugely scary, something I would like our family to avoid getting at almost any cost, and I fully understand why schools closed.  And if science shows they need to stay closed---well, so be it.  Nothing is more important than staying alive, of course.  But I am now at the point that if school opens, and those with more knowledge than myself determine it's safe, even if no-one can say it's 100% safe, I'll send her.  Nothing is 100% safe, ever.

I wonder how other families are handling this, how remote learning works for your kids, what your schools are offering.  I'd love to hear from people around the US and around the world about your experiences.

Stay well!

Tough realizations about school

I spent a few months living in a hopeful dream world.  I hoped that school could start in person in the fall, and Janey could go back to the high school experience she loved so much.  She could get on the bus early in the morning, have a nice long ride, spend the day with peers, go to music and dance and swimming, take field trips, be with adults who cared for her and enjoyed her, and then taken another nice long ride and came home again, contented after a full day.  

It's hard to believe the changes the last six months have wrought on the whole world.  

There has been no official words on the status of school in the fall for Boston, except that it won't be full time in person.  But after thinking it out and emailing with Janey's teacher, I finally had to face facts.  Janey won't be going back to school, not at all.  

If she went to school, it would be a school experience stripped of everything she likes about school, and everything that is important to us about her schooling.  Being in a classroom of teens with severe special needs, teens with little or no understanding of social distancing or the importance of masks, she would be behind plexi-glass shields.  She would not leave the classroom all day.  Teachers would not be able to touch her.  She couldn't move around.  

Even under those conditions, if someone got sick at her school, it would be closed, and the little hint, the pale shadow of her old schooling experience would shut down again for weeks.  Her school is very close to the area of Massachusetts the very hardest hit by COVID-19.  It wouldn't stay open much.

The bus would likely be impossible.  It was the weakest link last year, often not showing up, changing drivers almost weekly.  I can't imagine it would work, with older drivers, with kids that would certainly take off their masks often, with social distancing.  If Janey went to whatever version of school was available, we would have to drive her.  In Boston traffic, it's an hour's drive each way to her school.  We'd spend 4 hours of our day in school transport.

So...I finally,reluctantly admitted to myself---Janey isn't going back to school.

And distance learning, Zoom meetings?  It's almost an afterthought in my mind to say "No thanks".  Like so many other kids with Janey's kinds of needs I've heard about, Zoom meeting school simply doesn't work, in fact,more than that, it makes things worse.  Imagine a bored, frustrated teen, and trying to keep them from melting down all day, and then add in an hour or two or more of also trying to force them to sit in front of a screen they don't want to watch, one that seems to them to be playing a video strangely featuring some people they recognize, but one where now and then they are asked to say something on command.  A video that tries vainly to meet the needs of a dozen or so kids with wildly different needs, but all with high needs.  Imagine spending the whole time this video plays trying to keep your teen sitting in one place, waiting for their turn to answer a question they wouldn't be inclined to answer under the best of circumstances.  No, that is not school.

And so, one way or another, we are going to homeschool.  I'm not scared of that. It's not my preference, and I'm quite sure not Janey's preference either,but it's what we are going to have to do.

I think it's human nature when faced with a situation we don't like to place blame.  It's almost comforting to be able to have an enemy, a foe to defeat.  There is one in this situation, but it's not human.  It's a virus.  No-one human has done anything to cause this (politics aside, and that is how I generally try to live my life, with politics aside).  Everyone would like Janey to be able to have school in the way she could last year, but safely, and practically, she can't.

I lie awake nights thinking about how I can best educate Janey.  Sometimes, I admit thinking I might not really try, not to formally educate her.  She will be 16 in less than two weeks, and in our state, I think that's old enough to drop out.  I could just call it a school career for now.  But I don't think that's the best plan.  We had planned on Janey being in school until she was 22.  I am still hopeful that after a year or so, she will be able to go back to school.  

I'll write more in another post about how I'm going to try to set up homeschooling.  For now, I'd love to find out how the rest of you out there will be handling school this fall.  I'm feeling isolated, scared, alone, more than I have in many years.  It's such a house of cards, this life we cobble together for our kids, and it takes just a touch for it all to fall apart.  We have gotten, as a world, something more like a hurricane aimed at our house of cards.  It's going to take a while to build it back.