Ways I'm not smart, ways Janey is

Janey's recent testing has led me to think a good deal about what "smart" means.  You can take smart as something a test can measure.  If you do that, well, I would test smart.  I am good at the skill of taking the tests that have been chosen by a lot of educators to define what they have chosen to define as smart.  However, over the years, I've had many occasions to realize that doing well on those tests means---doing well on those tests.  Not a lot else.  If you look at my life in terms of financial success, or major academic success, or artistic success, or a lot of other measures of success, I would not test very high at all.  The tests don't predict much, except that you will probably do well on future tests of the same kind.  There are a lot of ways I'm not smart at all.

I learned quite a few of these ways during high school.  I'm hopeless at foreign languages.  Everyone around me was learning vocabulary right and left, and I just couldn't.  This is also a problem with me for learning names.  I don't have a good memory at all for verbal words.  Janey is extremely good at this, obviously.  She seems to store every word she's ever heard someplace in her brain, and when she wants to, she can recite them back.  I also could not for the life of me remember the names of various parts of things, like in biology.  I remember studying for a test on the parts of a fetal pig.  My friends seemed to be to be able to glance at the pig and know all the parts.  I truly worked hard at trying to learn them, but failed miserably.  I also learned, well before high school, that I am about the worst athlete on earth.  The horrible memory of a relay race in gym that involved my team not being able to move along until I got a basket still burns.  The WHOLE TIME OF THE CLASS was me trying to get the basket, with about 20 girls around me snickering.  When I see Janey run or climb, I am always stunned by her natural grace.  It goes without saying I can't dance or do aerobics type stuff, while Janey seems able to learn a dance routine she sees after one view.

I also don't have the gift of being able to push myself to work very hard.  My school grades were good, but they could have been much better.  I see how William works at his homework, and I know I never put in a tenth of that effort.  When Janey wants to do something, she doesn't give up.  I'm a giver-upper.

I remember very plainly the moment I realized I was just not musical.  I had been playing the trumpet for 7 years at that point.  I was the worst trumpeter in the band.  Most of the time, I was just faking it, not playing at all.  It struck me like a ton of bricks "I am just not good at this.  No matter what, I'm not musical"  It was actually a relief.  I believe in that kind of realism in life.  Not everyone is good at everything.  Janey doesn't play instruments, but she can instinctively sing in tune.  She appreciates good music, and knows the difference between that and bad music.  She has the musical gift.  I don't.

I am also the messiest person on earth.  I've always been that way, and I probably always will be.  It's an area where no matter how hard I try, and off and on I HAVE tried, I just can't keep things neat.  This was the case with my desk in elementary school, this was the case with my locker in high school and this is the case with my house.  I don't see the mess well.  I don't know how to keep things organized.

There are things I'm good at.   I'm one of the fastest readers you are likely to meet.  People tell me I'm a pretty fair writer.  I'm not bad at trivia.  But overall, the ability to score as a "gifted" child on IQ tests has done very, very little for me in life.  And I need to keep that in mind.  I believe in reality.  I'm not going to dismiss the fact that Janey will most likely not learn to read well, not graduate from high school, not hold a job.  But none of that means she doesn't have areas where she is very, very smart, smarter than I'll ever be.

Two Janey Stories

Janey and I are driving her to summertime school. I have the iPod on random, listening to songs. "He Stopped Loving Her Today" comes on ( if you don't know the song, you can hear it here ). A few songs later, Janey starts screaming "A terrible song! A terrible song!" I assume she means whatever song is playing just then, and turn off the music. Then she starts saying in an hysterical voice "HE STOPPED LOVING HER TODAY! HE STOPPED LOVING HER TODAY!" She is crying and crying. I say "It's just a song, Janey. It's over. Don't worry" but she keeps crying. I say "Mama will NEVER stop loving you. That's impossible!" She calms a little. I go on "Daddy will never stop loving you. William and Freddy will never stop loving you. None of us will. We never could" She is a little calmer, but a few minutes later, starts again---"he STOPPED LOVING her today!" I wonder at what she picks up on. Is it that somehow that somehow she never thought of that concept---that someone could stop loving someone else? It must terrify her. But it's so hard to figure out how she gets those glimpses of clarity. How is it that she can sometimes seem to understand so little, then suddenly be horrified by the lyrics of a song? What else is she understanding that we have no idea she is?

It's evening. Freddy and Tony are playing badminton in the driveway---not really playing, just hitting a birdie back and forth. I get Janey a racket and she holds it happily. Tony hits a few shots at her, very softly, and she hits them in the air. She laughs in hysterical delight. She runs up and down the driveway with the racket, just so thrilled to be included, to be outside, to have us around, to play with the family. I take a turn, and fall into a wet bush trying to get the birdie. We all laugh until we almost cry. Janey jumps up and down, happy as I've ever seen her. It strikes me that, that moment, life is perfect.

Direct Services---that's what autism needs!

This article is something I happened upon, and it made me wish I lived in Jacksonville! I just recently figured out the term for what I think is desperately needed---direct services. If I am correct, it means services that directly aid children with autism---not money for research, not money for awareness or walks for some small portion of the "cause", but real services---respite, recreation, camps, after school programs, buddy services, sports opportunities, things like that. I am so lucky that Janey is in a great school with a great after-school program, but I still wish for more. Janey loved the Irish Step lessons she gets at afterschool. I wish she could go to more lessons---real swimming lessons, not just an open pool, a day camp, gymnastics lessons, all kinds of things. Things that "regular" kids can do.

The other part of this is that I think there's a lot available I have no idea how to find, or that is available only to certain richer communities, or certain religions. A wonderful resource would be a person (or guidebook or website) that brought together all the actual direct services out there. I think sometimes places that have a program avoid advertising it too much, for fear of being overwhelmed. I can get that, in a way, but on the other hand, it bothers me, if only in that is shows how desperately such programs are needed.

And there's the question of quality. I never want to put anyone or anything down here, so I won't get specific, but one sports opportunity we tried just wasn't safe. Janey was repeatedly being assaulted---pushed over and hit--- by a boy bigger than her, also autistic. I don't blame the boy. He wasn't being supervised, by his father or by the staff. And they were frankly overwhelmed. It was a mess, and we decided to just stop going. I don't think most families would tolerate that kind of situation for their "regular" kids, and I see no reason they should for their autistic kids either.

I am so lucky in what Janey does get to have at school and afterschool that sometimes I feel like I'm being greedy in wishing she was able to get more, and maybe for right now, she is getting enough. But she won't always be at her school, although barring miracles, she'll always be autistic, and there are many, many kids like her. I hope that some of the wonderful giving that people do to help autism will get directed to programs that will directly serve our great kids!