Showing posts with label paraprofessionals. Show all posts
Showing posts with label paraprofessionals. Show all posts

Monday, February 01, 2010

A Delicate Dance


The relationship between someone with a disability and the people who provide their support can demand some complex choreography.

Since my daughter Jenn started at her new school this year people notice a difference in her ability to converse. She participates more. People notice that she takes more turns and clarifies more when people don't understand what she said.

What changed? Mostly, I think it's that she no longer has a 1:1 aide.

Now, don't get me wrong, Jenn had wonderful, well-trained, supportive aides. They were intent on making her more independent. Their presence made TONS of experiences available to her in our public school that she would have missed without them.

Yet, while the existence of a designated support person creates lots of opportunities, it also creates a tricky relationship. This relationship must be functional if the aide is to provide effective, individualized support. However, this relationship also turns the two--supported and supporter--into a "partnership."

A partnership is a social arrangement with etiquette and expectations. It requires give and take. It's both a useful and complex situation. (And it doesn't just occur in disability, executives and their secretaries contend with these issues on some level, as do couples.)When you're working with someone who is in partnership you are not just dealing with the individual--with either individual--anymore. You are dealing with the team.

I have met people in support situations who try to negate the "partnership" dynamic. I have met a deaf woman and a blind man who instruct people who are interacting with them not to address their support staff. Ever. While the desire to keep lines from blurring and to be addressed as an individual is understandable, it is awkward for observers and almost abusive to the support person to be treated this way. Consequently, this isn't the way most partnerships function.

Others try to treat their support partners more as friends. This works great if both people are compatible and can negotiate the leading-following nature of support--if not it gets ugly.

And if the supporter is an adult and the supportee is a child the partnership can't be anything but directive. But an adult with a cognitive disability is NOT a child. Providing adequate support AND self-determination requires both intention and attention.

With Jenn her partner status presented as a subtle waiting, a slight holding back and non-ownership of her role in conversation and other situations.

There are trainings and articles on the subject (like this one) but I don't think the questions of support vs. enablement, and codependence vs. interdependence vs. supported independence ever completely go away.

Parent as Support Partner.

When the parent is the support partner the complications of both the partnering and the parenting relationship get piled on even thicker.

When I am the support person my partner should be as self-determined as possible and I am there to facilitate.

When I parent I create the stuctures and expectations for my children...

My daughter needs both of these things, and it's hard to do them both at the same time.

Sometimes it's so easy to over-support because I do know what she's saying, because I know how hard some things are for her, because I'm her mother and KNOW what's best, because I don't have an objective view of her maturity or capability, etc, etc, etc... Beyond this, keeping my support-partner hat on all the time can be stifling for both of us--knowing when or how to remove it is really difficult.

When am I a parent? When am I a partner? And what if I need something?

Recently I turned down an evening swimming program for my daughter because I would have needed to swim with her. The opportunity to swim is good for her, but swimming after supper would disrupt my sleep which I just can't afford. The program director found a volunteer to swim with her... and I still feel a little guilty.

And when do you turn off the "because I'm the mom" mojo? I have seen parents of adults with disabilities subtly and not-so-subtly direct their adult child's choices. A partner who is also mom has undue power. Should she exercise that power?

Yet, NOT being mommish, being professional and detached doesn't work either. People need their parents to be attached and parental. At least sometimes.

And how does this work with the rest of your family members?

So far this is what I try to do: I try to engineer opportunities for my daughter to run alone--in big and small ways whenever possible. When she does need a partner, I work hard to set up situations that are healthy and effective. And when I am the partner I try to keep a balance between parenting and partnering. When things get out of whack I try to change.

How do others manage the partnership dilemma?

Picture from here.

Wednesday, January 16, 2008

F


I have to leave you in suspense about what the F might stand for… I am sure you’re wondering. At least I hope you are…

My youngest daughter is in the 7th grade this year. She has spent her entire school career in our district at the same schools that all of the kids in our neighborhood attend. Depending on a bunch of variables her services have looked different ways in different years, but she has always had some level of inclusive education (with supports!)

Last year there were several folks who had misgivings about her programming, but when the rubber met the road amazing things happened.

Like every other 6th grader, in Social Studies last year my daughter learned about Ancient Rome and Julius Caesar, Ancient Greece and the pyramids and the Age of Chivalry along with her peers. Her teachers and her paraprofessional were excellent about finding and crafting materials so that the information was accessible and the background knowledge has been great for her.

(A while ago my son was watching something on TV that showed the pyramids, Jenn pointed out the pyramids and told us, “That is in ancient Greece—there’s a dead guy in it, they miss him.” Without background knowledge that show and so much more would be just another discrete event that drops into her life without context… but I digress…)

When they studied The Age of Chivalry the kids were divided into teams of three to build their own society—one to make the castle, one to write the Code of Chivalry and one to make the coat of arms. My daughter was on a team with two boys from her class and she was assigned to making the coat of arms.

Just like all of the other kids who had to build coats of arms my daughter had to pick pictures out to use, use the computer to look up the symbolism of those pictures and get agreement from the team on the choices she made. Then the team had to choose a phrase from their Code of Chivalry to be their motto. Once this was done she needed to make it into a shield and write up the meanings of the symbols they’d chosen, and adhere it to the back of the shield so that she could present it to the class as part of the team.

Jenn picked out a bunch of pictures and discussed them with the guys. She had picked out a panther which was a feminine symbol. Apparently the guys agreed that since there was a girl on the team the panther would be ok, as long as they could also include a fire-breathing dragon. My daughter agreed including a dragon would be fine.

So she set to work making the shield—it was decided that it was fine for her to have help drawing the pictures, especially since many of the other kids were using computer images. Jenn colored the pictures and glued them to the cardboard shield (she also had help with the cutting.)

When she presented to the class she stood in the front of the room with her team. She read her presentation from the back of the shield and when she tripped over a word her paraprofessional, who was in the back of the room, whispered the word into her FM system so that only she could hear it. This way she could continue smoothly with her presentation (this was a coat of arms presentation, not a reading test!) The castle was great, the code of chivalry was chivalrous and the team got a good grade.

The day of her presentation she brought the shield home. My older daughter had an early dance class that day so they got off the bus and right into the car. While I drove and made a mental grocery list my daughters discussed school.

Suddenly my older daughter said, “Hey Mom, listen to this—listen to what’s on this coat of arms Jenn made.”

Here is what she read:

The cross is white. It stands for peace and protection.
The shield is blue. It stands for loyalty and truth.
The panther stands for a beautiful woman, fierce but gentle to her young.
The dragon stands for a most valiant defender of treasure.
The flaming heart stands for ardent affection. (“Just love, that’s all,” my daughter told me later.)
Its purple color stands for royal majesty and justice.

We joked that she had made us all a coat of arms. Then Amanda turned the shield over and said, “Oh my gosh, wait til you hear this!!!”

On the front of the shield (it came out backwards in the picture somehow) were the words the team had chosen from their code of chivalry:

Fight for All or Fight for No One!
No doubt about it, she had made our coat of arms!

There’s your F!