40/3=x???

Charlie got hired to help a lady rake leaves.  He was there for 3 hours.  When I went to pick him up, he proudly pulled out an envelope that contained $40 and showed it to me.  This seemed like the perfect time to do some real-life math.  (Charlie has trouble with word problems and scenario type math.) 

"So if you worked for 3 hours and earned $40, how much did you make per hour?"

He gives me a strange look.  "I don't have the calculator with me." 

"You don't NEED a calculator.  This is simple math; you can do it in your head."

He sits and thinks for a minute, and then he leans forward and starts WRITING IN THE DUST on the dashboard of the car....and still got the wrong answer.

So my question is, does this make a stronger statement about his failure to master word problems, or my failure to clean the car? 

The equation is still there, by the way. 

Charlie's first brush with the long arm of the law

Last night I let Charlie get up to 25 mph. Then he got pulled over.

We were doing some stop-n-go work down the truck bay of an industrial park not too far from home. The idea in stop-n-go work is to get him to learn to stop without snapping my neck. I had him take the car up to 25 mph and then hit the brakes enough to stop quickly but without skidding (that skill will be learned later, when there's snow) and then to let up a little just before the actual stop so we don't turn into bobbleheads.

I guess it WOULD have looked pretty strange to an observer. I didn't notice the observer hiding amongst the trucks. But he sure noticed us. After watching for a little while, he pulled out, and I had Charlie sit still until we figured out where this car was going, hopefully out of the bay. Instead, it drove straight towards us, turned on an in-dash flashing red/blue light, and pulled off slightly to the driver's side.

Rent-A-Cop. And he's asking Charlie questions, but not getting out of his car.

I leaned over Charlie to answer him, but he couldn't hear me, so I had Charlie put the car in park, got out, and walked over to his window, since he still wasn't about to get out of the car. In the car was a little old man hunched over the steering wheel, and it looked like his neck was frozen to his shoulders--he had to turn his whole body in order to look at me. He asked if everything was okay, and I explained that Charlie had just gotten his learner's permit and we came out here to practice since he wasn't ready for road traffic yet. I was bracing myself to be told this was private property, we couldn't do that, get lost or we'll get the real cops....but all he did was nod and say, "Okay." He rolled up his window and went back to where he had been lurking before.

Charlie was shaking and sweating when I got back to the car. I think Chinese orphans are instilled with a deep-seated fear of the police--Charlie has never been comfortable around cops. We continued on with our practice session and eventually went home.

When we got back to the house, I told Rick Charlie had been pinched by a cop. Charlie immediately--and VERY vocally--denied it. Told Rick the whole story in rapid-fire sign that Rick couldn't begin to understand (my sign-to-voice professor would be proud of me for interpreting that one!) and finished up with, "And I DID NOT get arrested!!!"

More Math Woes

I thought my math woes were over once the school moved Charlie to that pre-algebra class back in January. After all, the qualified people are now doing the job that I started, right?

Big sigh.

Charlie is now in Algebra I. He came home after the first week of school with some homework sheets with really bad grades. Very upset because he isn't understanding it. A lot of it boiled down to English (he doesn't understand the directions at the top of each grouping of problems, so he does the wrong thing to the equations), but some of it boiled down to stuff that he just plain didn't know. For example, it blew me away to discover what he thought was the difference between even and odd numbers: He had simply memorized 2,4,6,8, etc. but never knew there was an actual RULE to it, that if a number could be divided by 2 and the answer is a whole number, not a decimal or fraction, then it is even. His face lit up when the light bulb went on.

Last Tuesday was Back to School Night for parents. It was a real struggle to get from Baltimore to Frederick after work in time for this thing that starts at 6, but I made it, sort of. When I met with his Algebra teacher and expressed my concerns, we decided that it would be appropriate for me to have a copy of Charlie's algebra book, and she will send me the assignments they are doing so that I can reinforce them at home. Our concern is that since he was switched in the middle of the year, he missed out on the second half of the year in the general math class he was moved out of, AND he missed out on the first half of the year in the pre-algebra class he had been moved into. So we also got for me a copy of the pre-algebra book from last year and decided that I would have to catch him up by working with him on the first half of the book on the weekends.

Y'all remember that math and I don't exactly get along, right?

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This past weekend, we spent HOURS re-doing failed homework (she accepts re-dos for credit), studying for a test he had coming up, and starting on some of what he missed out on when he switched classes last year. Hours and hours. Felt like forever.

On Monday after he left for school, nervous about the test, I shot off an e-mail to his algebra teacher (a hearing woman, as it happens), mentioning that he seemed to understand all the stuff if the directions for each grouping of sentences are signed to him, not leaving him to depend on the English just yet and that his IEP specifically states that testing is to be done in sign, not English, so that his English skills don't hold him back in other areas.

She e-mailed back that she would do whatever it took to support him and help him be successful, and that he had actually spent some time with her after school getting clarification on some things they had done. (I had encouraged him to do this, but wasn't sure he would.)

She got back to me this afternoon to let me know how the test went: He got a 96%!!!

I sat there crying when I read that. He worked so hard this weekend trying to prepare for that test, and got to see it pay off for him.

Looks like it's going to be a long, hard year for both of us. I guess I'd better quit whining now and just get 'er done.

I'm so proud of that kid.

"Hit The Building"

Y'all can't say you haven't been warned: STAY THE HELL OFF THE SIDEWALKS! Charlie got his learner's permit yesterday morning, so it's just not safe to be out there any more.

He tried about a month ago, and was crushed when he failed it the first time. He was very quiet as we got into the car, so I stayed quiet while I was driving so he could lick his wounds without interference (especially since I got lost on the way home from MVA and was trying to figure out where I was). I didn't realize that my silence was killing him until he blurted out, "You're mad that I failed, aren't you?" Oh, heavens, child--no!!

He felt slightly better when he found out his big brother had also failed it the first time, but that was still cold comfort. Charlie isn't used to failing at anything. He only missed by one question, but that's still one too many.

Personally, I think it did him good to miss it the first time. He's so good at so many things, that he is starting to think life is his bowl of cherries and he gets a little big-headed at times. This humbled him a little.

We did some more studying and testing, and got another appointment set up with MVA. This time he only missed two questions, which is a pass. But get this: The deaf guy misses the question on HAND SIGNALS!!! What's up with THAT???

While we were waiting for the test to be graded, he was so nervous he was just about biting his nails, and when he explained to the interpreter that he had already failed it once, she told him, "Oh, that's nothing--most of the deaf I interpret for these tests fail it four, five, or six times before they finally get it!" All of a sudden, he's thinking getting it right on the second shot isn't so bad, after all.

I think a big part of that problem is that most of the deaf kids grow up in homes where the parents either don't sign at all, or have very limited sign, so the kids get their driver's training in classroom situations and don't have a lot of help at home in the studying and sample testing. Charlie all but slept with that stupid driver's handbook, nagging at me every day that he was home to go over it with him. Over and over and over and over and over again. And the MVA has sample testing on the web that I would interpret for him over and over and over and over again. (It changes the questions a little each time.) So he had a lot more in-depth understanding and practice for that test than most deaf kids have by the time they get to MVA.

Anyway, tonight was his first lesson. I took him out to an industrial park and let him do some stop-n-go work. Then I decided he should learn where the front and back of the car are. (I drive a station wagon.) You should have seen his face when I had him approach the concrete wall of one of the truck bays and told him to hit the building. I've never seen such a look of shock on his face. I ended up demonstrating for him how I wanted him to keep backing up slowly, bit by bit, until the car touched the building, so he could see and feel how much space he had to work with. Then I made him do it over and over again (both forwards and backwards) until he was able to stop within a few inches of the wall without touching it. I think he did a pretty good job.

Curbs, not so much. But it was starting to get dark, and we were both hungry and tired, so it was time to call it quits. There'll be more time this weekend and many, many weekends to come to practice some more.

Be careful out there!!!

Let My Words Be Few

He's driving me nuts. I admit it.

First it was English. Then we added algebra. Then we started on the driver's handbook. Then about three weeks into a lovely lazy summer, the school sent home papers explaining a summer reading project and poster that the kids had to complete and bring back to school with them, so we had to pick a book and start reading that together.

Now that the algebra dropped out, I'm okay with teaching all that other stuff. I was never a big math afficionado to start with, so I couldn't have been happier once the school figured out how to resolve that situation. (See January's posts "Baby Einstein" and "No More Mama Einstein.")

But now Charlie has come home from karate camp, where he spent a week with hearing people, and he has reached a momentous decision: He wants to learn speechreading.

But wait--there's more! He doesn't just want to learn to READ it--he wants to learn to SPEAK!!

We've already gone there with the school. They evaluated him and said he is so profoundly deaf that he does't have enough residual hearing left to work with, and they agreed with me that since he is so smart, his energies were best used to focus on his academic subjects rather than hours and hours of speech therapy just to get out a few understandable phrases.

So I reminded him of all this--they aren't going to put him in that program since he wants to go to college.

Yeah, yeah, I know all that. That's why YOU'RE going to teach me.

'Scuse me? Do I LOOK like a freakin' speech teacher????

So now, in addition to the English, and the summer book and poster, and the driver's handbook, I am being shanghaied into teaching Charlie to speak.

Can I just point out that I'm not exactly TRAINED for this?

Sometimes I have no idea how to explain to him how to make a particular sound. It's a little frustrating for both of us, because he will run through every possible permutation of sound that he can think of making with that particular mouth/tongue position until he stumbles across the right combination, and then when I get excited and say "That's it!" he doesn't remember what it was he was doing to get that sound.

So far he has learned to say Aymom and Pop-Pop (his grandparents' nicknames that Rick gave them), Mama, mooooo, Bama (his best friend's name), and he's working on "How are you?" He has the "how" part down, but r's and y's are a little harder and we need some more practice there.

The day he learned to say "Aymom," it was hard to keep him from putting a glottal stop in betwen the two syllables. At one point, we decided we needed a break, so I leashed up the dogs and headed outside for a while. The dogs and I strolled onto the path that leads back around behind our house, and as we were approaching the house from the back, I heard what sounded like someone vomiting. As I got closer and could see up alongside the house, I realized it was Charlie. He had gone outside to practice so he didn't disturb Rick, and he was vomiting the word Aymom--the A sound was coming from deep in his stomach, and the mom sound was the projectile. I very quickly turned away so he wouldn't see me howling. I had just about gotten myself back under control by the end of the walk, but then I tried to explain it to Rick, and the giggles started all over again.

Today we started on the "how are you" stuff, and he had no trouble getting the how down pat. But then he started playing with it. He would say it in a variety of ways, and sometimes it would sound like a kid who had just sucked helium out of a balloon, and sometimes it would sound like a guy trying to project a deep, sexy voice. I'm sitting in my chair with my back to him while he's in the dining room practicing, and I'm hoping he can't see my shoulders shaking from the laughter. It just sounds so damned CUTE!

Maybe I DO look like a freakin' speech teacher--to him, anyway.

Down-Time - Part II

I dropped Charlie off at school yesterday (Sunday) around noon for football camp. By about 5 pm, I get a text message that says, "I feeling boring." Wow--big change from his excitement over karate camp!

Later, before bed, I get another text message that says, "I hard work football."

I'm not sure how to interpret that one. Is he saying he's working hard at it? Or that he feels it's hard work? Hmmmm....

Today at work, I got a call from the athletic trainer saying I need to come pick him up. What the huh?????

It seems he was complaining that his hip was hurting him. That surprised me--the wound had been healed up, and the doctor had cleared him for both karate camp and football camp. And Charlie had successfully finished out the entire week of karate camp without complaining of it hurting so why all of a sudden is it starting now? Is it just that he doesn't care for football camp and this is his way of getting out of it? She said it seemed like he was putting his all into it, and she was sorry to see him go, because he was showing some real promise.

I asked her to take a look at his hip and tell me how it looked. She hadn't realized he had something wrong there, she just thought it was hurting. When she saw his surgical wound, I heard a little gasp. She said it looked scabbed over.

There was no scab when I dropped him off. His skin had been smooth and healed--a red scar, but healed. But I couldn't seem to get to the bottom of it by questioning her and having her question him. I was going to have to see the words come off his hands in person.

Rick and I piled into the car tonight and headed out to Frederick to get him.

Poor Charlie. It turns out that the hip had opened up last night during their first session, but he didn't say anything to anyone. He soaked off the scab in the shower and hoped it would get better overnight. But the next morning, they were practicing tackles, and he was getting hit repeatedly right on that spot. When he decided he couldn't finish the drill, the coach asked him if he didn't like football, and Charlie finally showed him the wound. Coach told him he couldn't keep playing on that, it would just keep getting worse. So Charlie made the sensible decision that he would have to come home. Wasn't a problem at karate camp, because he wasn't getting hit and was careful to lead off with his other side while fighting so he didn't get kicked there.

I thought he would be really disappointed about it, because he had been talking nonstop about wanting to join the football team, but he seems to be taking it very matter-of-factly. He's not even sure he will go back to it next summer, because there is an age limit of 18 to play during the season, and if he goes next year, he will be playing JV, and then will turn 18 before getting to the varsity team.

I guess I won't be a football mom after all, and Charlie will never have one of those multi-million dollar contracts with the NFL.

That's okay--I'm a karate mom at heart, anyway. And it sure will make our schedule this fall easier to coordinate.

So much for the down time and that list...

Down Time - Part I

So Charlie left on August 2 for karate camp--a whole week of nothing but eat, sleep, karate; 3-4 workouts every day. I wasn't entirely sure about this, because he would be there for a whole week with all hearing people and no interpreter, not able to understand when an instructor was speaking to a whole group of people.

Yes, I know--he grew UP in that kind of environment, what's the big problem? Well, he can actually communicate now and has things to say and an insatiable curiosity to know what's going on around him. How will it affect him, being thrust back into an environment where he can't get his point across clearly? Will it frustrate him?

You wouldn't know I had any reservations when I was on the phone trying to convince the lady running the thing that it would be fine, and I'd explain the schedule to him ahead of time, and teach him all the important words I could think of so that he could spell them if it came down to trying to write back and forth. She had misgivings, but I encouraged her to speak with Charlie's head instructor and a few others who had worked with him and let me know her decision--he'd be fine.

She bought it.

I had a list of things as long as my arm I wanted to accomplish during the down-time while he was away. It can be incredibly draining sometimes with Charlie around. There is no down-time. The minute I look like I'm just reading for pleasure or playing with e-mails rather than working or studying, he is prodding me to do something with him: "Help me study the driving book. Help me read my story for the summer reading program. Help me learn algebra. Help me...."

And you know what? I help him. I would feel immensely guilty if I didn't, because he takes such joy in learning. This is what I adopted him for--to give him every opportunity it is in my power to give him, just as I gave to Rick.

And after I dropped him off in Rockville at the bus that would take him four hours away, I sat at home biting my nails down to nubs, and accomplished not a single thing on that list.

What was I thinkin'? He was fine.

When I picked him up today, every other sign off the boy's hands was "wonderful" and "awesome." He had the time of his life! He came back knowing the forms he needed for the next two belt tests and part of the first black-belt form, and he learned how to use several weapons, and someone apparently beat him enough that he learned how to look mean while doing his forms, and his team won third place in the team competition so he has (another) trophy to add to his little collection, and....

According to one of the adults I talked to, Charlie was the darling of the camp, and in no time at all was teaching sign language classes. There were two ladies there who knew fingerspelling and some basic signs, so he taught them some more, and they became his own personal little harem of Charlie's Angels.

He is already looking forward to next year.

I have to learn to let go. This week was hard. I was so depressed, I nearly started the process for adopting another one. And it's about to get worse--he is only home for one night, and then leaves tomorrow morning for football camp at school. He will be there for 3 whole weeks. Not as nerve-wracking, since it's a deaf camp and he will be in his own element communication-wise, but certainly every bit as lonely here on the home front.

I have a list as long as my arm of things to do during the down-time...