VAC’S EARLY EDUCATION & CARE LAUNCHES NEW PRESCHOOL AUTISM PROGRAM 88 PARK STREET, RUTLAND, VT

Vermont Achievement Center’s Early Education & Care Program welcomes a new program; Intensive Autism Spectrum Disorders (IASD) Program for children ages 3 to 5 years old.

Located in Rutland, Vermont the Vermont Achievement Center’s Early Education and Care Program serves children ages 6 weeks to 12 years of age in an enriching, developmentally appropriate learning environment.  To meet the needs of children who have been diagnosed on the Autism Spectrum and require fulltime child care, VAC is expanding services for this population and opening an Intensive Autism Spectrum Disorder classroom, the “Indigo Room”, for children ages 3 to 5 years old.   Our highly dedicated, passionate and knowledgeable staff have years of expertise in the fields of autism, behavioral intervention, developmental disabilities, education, special education, music and art.  Children enrolled in the program will have the opportunity to experience a structured, challenging and encouraging environment complete with a sensory integration room and the Mitchell Therapy Pool.  The full time, year-round, 8 am to 4 pm, Monday thru Friday preschool autism classroom will offer breakfast, lunch and afternoon snack. 

Anticipated start date, September 3, 2013.  Enrollment limited – slots filling quickly.  For more information, please contact Diahn Johnson, Director of EEC, 802-775-2395 X612.

Autism Story: One for the history books

Nolan likes swimming.  Like many others living with autism, he is drawn to the water.  So, it’s fortunate for him that his school provides pool therapy once per week.  It’s fortunate for me that the therapies are performed at the Mitchell Therapy Pool, which just happens to be located on the Vermont Achievement Center campus where I work.  Nearly every Tuesday I try to sneak down to the pool on the other side of the building to see Nolan, if even for just five minutes.

A couple weeks ago I missed visiting with him, which in itself doesn't man much; I've missed a Tuesday here or there before.  However, I found out later that I would have seen a rather amazing thing, had I visited this one particular swim session.

Ann, our very hard working pool director, is in love with each of the kids in all of our programs.  She has also become attached to the visitors to our pool, including those from outside organizations.  She makes it a point to learn about each one, including their names and a little about them.  Nolan is no exception.

One day when my own student was visiting the pool, Ann shared with me what I missed the previous Tuesday.

As I've found him in the past, Ann told me Nolan was sitting alone at the end of one of the picnic tables enjoying his snack after a usually rigorous swim session.  At the other end sat an anatomical rescue dummy, seated in an upright position, just as a kid enjoying a snack would be after a usually rigorous swim session.  As Ann thumbed through a catalog, she watched Nolan watching the mannequin; his eyes would return to his snack, then back to the dummy, and back again.

Slowly, Nolan inched closer to the mannequin, obviously curious and interested about the new addition to the table.  Ann set the magazine down on the table as she walked away to answer the phone a few feet from the picnic table.  When her attention turned back to my son, she couldn't believe what she saw.

Nolan had slid himself all the way over, and he had placed Ann’s catalog in front of the dummy; his hand was patting the back of the doll and he was turning the magazine’s pages as he repeatedly asked the inanimate object, “Are you okay, baby?”  He thought the adult-sized puppet was a baby!

She was floored by the adorable scene, and I was amazed.  When I told Lori about it later, we were both delighted that this kid, who three years ago couldn't so much as say his name, had now engaged in spontaneous play with a full-sized doll and had acknowledged its presence --- and had read it a book!

Sniffle.

~Jon

Unprompted and Unexpected

As I mentioned on my blog Celebrate the Autism Spectrum (click here), I get excited when any child in the World of Autism does anything beyond expectation.  It may be a one-time thing, or it could be the sign of something big on the horizon.  Doesn't matter.  To those of us who know and understand, even the littlest leaps are amazing.

Friday Nolan made one of those unexpected leaps.  His paraprofessional told my wife today that, while working with Nolan, she somehow caused her finger to bleed.  Well, Nolan noticed, and at first reacted as we figure he would.

“Are you OK, Ms. Lafayette?” he mumbled as though his mouth was full of marbles, trying so hard to speak as fast as we do.

She showed him her finger; it was bleeding a little, but she assured him she would be fine.  Undeterred, he told her, “Be right back.”

“It’s OK, Nolan.  I’m fine,” she tried to convince him again.  Opening the classroom door, however, he told her over his shoulder, “Stay here.”

Ms. Lafayette was curious at this point where the journey would take him, so she ducked into the hallway a short distance behind him.  She wanted to give him his space, while still intrigued by what he intended.

“Stay ‘dere’,” he commanded again when he saw her tailing him, and he turned the corner toward the school’s front door.  Ms. Lafayette was not worried, though she ducked through a shortcut to arrive first near where she was sure would be his destination. 

Opening the office door, Nolan struggled at first to get the school nurse to understand his desire.  “Bandage,” he stumbled.  She was confused, so he repeated, “I want bandage, 'puhweeze'.”

Upon seeing Nolan’s aide, the nurse understood.  She handed him the supplies he needed, and he headed back out the door.  Ms. Lafayette scooted back down the side hallway, hoping to meet Nolan at the other end.  As soon as they found one another, Nolan tried to open the package and put the bandage on Ms. Lafayette’s finger.

He did all of this unprompted.  All by himself.

Sniffle.

He also likes electronics.  A lot.  When it isn't time for him to use the iPad or computer or watch movies, Nolan will scour the countryside (that is, every room in the house) looking for a stray, unguarded cell phone.  Lori, Kaleigh and I recently acquired smart phones, and they are as functional as any computer.  Leave one without a lookout, and he is on Netflix or YouTube, playing, pausing and rewinding the same two or three seconds of any interesting video he can find.

Friday night I was the negligent adult, and he wore my phone out until the battery died.  I tried to get my phone from him as quickly as I could, without any luck.  By the time anyone had gotten to him, Nolan had pulled a switcheroo; somewhere in the fuss, he had unplugged his mother’s charging phone and replaced it with mine.

Clever.

~Jon

   

Same Child Different Day, Back from a Break and New Information

I’m sad that it has been 10½ months since my last post.  There was a point in time when I was able to commit day and night to this blog.  I was sharing what you wanted to hear, and you made it successful.  However, as it often does, life slid in behind the wheel and steered us down a different road.

The bad news started with losing my 9-to-5 in January, which by itself can stifle one’s enthusiasm.  However, I immediately signed up for college courses, working toward my Bachelor’s Degree in Communications, and I began looking for another job.  Along with meeting the requirements of the Department of Labor, the college courses have been research and writing intensive, so I have appropriated much of my authoring time to that.

Since then, I was also fortunate to have been invited to co-develop an autism resource center (ARCTIC: Autism Recognition Care Training and Information Center) at our local Vermont Achievement Center (VAC).  Creating the proposal, cultivation of the facility and duties as the Coordinator of Autism Resources has added to my list of chores.  I also host the blog for the autism support group (Celebrate the Autism Spectrum) at VAC, and the organization offered me a position as an Education Instruction Assistant in their school for children with autism.  So, I have been deeply immersed in self-enrichment as well as continuing advocacy and education projects.

In reality I have only taken a break from the duties of "Same Child, Different Day" for a short while.  While I’m not completely happy with that, at least I have been in front of continuing to help folks.  In the end, that’s what’s most important to me.

If you would still like to order a copy of the booklet Same Child, Different Day, or to email me personally, click here.  If you or someone you know would like to more information about our Rutland, VT area autism resource center, the school, the support group or our other blog, please click on this link.

Thanks and welcome back!

~Jon

One Down, Twelve to Go: Kindergarten Accomplished

Wow. One hundred and eighty days (give or take a snow day) have passed since Nolan started attending (mainstream) school. Thursday marks his last day of Kindergarten, a day that (quite honestly) we once worried we might never see.

We had questions last autumn before he started. Some were the concerns of any parent; others were unique to our son. We had concerns about field trips, waiting in line for lunch, meltdowns in class, riding the bus, academic comprehension, going to the bathroom (he still struggles with potty training), and making friends. And those are just a few.

Nevertheless, (while Nolan did have several days where we worried about his progress, and sometimes even his status at school) he made it!
o Some field trips that we knew would bore him he had to skip (going to a farm); bowling and swimming however, not a problem.
o There were mornings when we would get to school too early, he wouldn’t wait for the kitchen ladies to get breakfast into the chafing dishes; others days he would actually wait for a friend who was farther back in line.
o Meltdowns were unavoidable, but amazingly, the other kids worked right through it (and in public, many of them would admit aloud, “Mom, that’s my friend Nolan”).
o There were days Lori would have to pick him up from school because Nolan was simply not getting on that bus; another day, the bus simply forgot him.
o This is the boy who couldn’t speak in September; now he writes his name and whole sentences, and even reads!
o Somehow we/they worked through potty training (good luck next year, Angela and Mrs. Swift), and as for friends, if you were reading, you know we just covered that.

Take today for example. There was a Books and Beyond award ceremony at the school today. While everyone gathered in the room, Nolan waited. He waited while kids went to the podium to get their medals. And, when his name was called, Nolan went up to the teacher, dipped his head as she put the ribbon around his neck, and went right back to his seat. I had to work, but Lori saw every tear-squeezing second of it.

When Lori picked the kids up though, she stopped by work to get me first before making the routine trip home. By the time I got to the car, he was in Full Nuclear Meltdown.

But you know what? Even in public, I’m still okay with admitting aloud, “That’s my son, Nolan.”