This morning Elizabeth, my youngest, asked if she did something bad in her childhood and tried to cover up. ( The question is the result of some rather "nosy" bible study question her youth group subscribed to. I was lucky to have only accepted Christ at age 24, so the youth organization era was not in my past.)
Well! Elizabeth was tiny in size but rather hot tempered many years ago. Her closest friend Cassandra at age seven nursed some wounds for about a week until I heard from the mother. Apparently Cassandra knowingly goaded Elizabeth into scratching her at the wrist. The interesting part was Cassandra was at my house for three evenings a week but I failed to notice the bandage. Probably it was the left wrist and she was quite good at hiding it from me.
I dare say both girls were at fault. But Cassandra's mom was adamant that the young girl was teasing and goading to see how Elizabeth would react. The practical and sensible mother felt that it was a relief that it was my daughter who merely scratched the aggressor. Imagine if the victim swing a filled mineral water bottle at Cassandra's head! Of course I went home and gave Elizabeth the third degree for scratching a playmate. I taught her to turn around and walk off, it is far smarter to ignore such a person, even if it was her best friend.
Now! The reason I blog this is not to show my readers how bad or good my child was in the past or is at present. Usually the first sign I spot in a recovered learning disabled adult is the disproportionate reaction to being forced, coerced, victimized or being made to feel injustice. Well, the last time I gave my husband a good dressing down was when he asked me an ungrammatical question,"Water boil ah?" early one morning when I was bustling around trying to accomplish a few tasks in order to leave the house for the day. What he really meant was: "Did I turn off the fire and actually forgot about it?" I took it that he was unreasonable enough to expect me to drop everything to boil more drinking water. I collected the water bottles and could not find my jug. He was unwise enough to put real lemon to soak in a plastic jug. A volcano erupted and he was still trying to shake sleep off his head, all he wanted to know was if I had turned off the fire under a whistling kettle. My daughter said he deserved the shelling as he could have just stepped into the kitchen and touched the kettle rather than irritate me early in the morning.
Showing posts with label l.d. work. Show all posts
Showing posts with label l.d. work. Show all posts
Saturday, July 20, 2013
Friday, April 26, 2013
(246) Cullinarily challenged
The organizer called up, assuming that the fried vermicelli my family promised would be cooked by me. Honestly, I only cook three possible types of food for pot bless: fried rice, fried wanton and Chinese spinach because I have done it thousands of times that these are my fail safe food.
When my husband was courting me, I confessed that I am willing to cook for my future children but cooking is at the very bottom of my list of life skills. He said never mind, for he is a talented and great amateur cook; we would never starve. Hence we have the relationship that I prepare the food and I do the cleaning up but he would artistically cook up whatever happened to be available in the house. For I hate to shop too, my idea of nourishing myself would be to swallow some desiccated food with mugs of water and then able to not be hungry for the next 6 hours.
Genes do not lie, I look at Elizabeth attempts at cooking and realize that God has been more than kind to me. At least I could fry decent omelets and judge well how cooked or whether instant noodle is just cooked and crunchy. And interestingly Michael could whip up sinfully delicious food from funny combinations of ingredients in my fridge. Crystal is just at the stage of frying up all kinds of process meat and beginning to brew some old fashion soups her employer likes. She is in the business of geriatric care.
Just in case you think that the clutz in the kitchen is not too hot in other spheres of life, I happen to have won quite a number of full scholarships in the earlier years. Elizabeth is articulate and quite accomplished in singing, acting, music making and quite a good student if you look at her track record. Believe it or not, we are not adept at multi-step sequences like cooking. Elizabeth and I would be equally hapless in the chemistry lab. But I could have chosen to continue with a Masters in IT concentrating on expert systems, it might not have been as fun as working on children's brains and character; though the former would have been equally challenging as well. Elizabeth's professors are telling her to consider going for a Masters as she is gifted in academic writing. We will see what God has in store for her.
When my husband was courting me, I confessed that I am willing to cook for my future children but cooking is at the very bottom of my list of life skills. He said never mind, for he is a talented and great amateur cook; we would never starve. Hence we have the relationship that I prepare the food and I do the cleaning up but he would artistically cook up whatever happened to be available in the house. For I hate to shop too, my idea of nourishing myself would be to swallow some desiccated food with mugs of water and then able to not be hungry for the next 6 hours.
Genes do not lie, I look at Elizabeth attempts at cooking and realize that God has been more than kind to me. At least I could fry decent omelets and judge well how cooked or whether instant noodle is just cooked and crunchy. And interestingly Michael could whip up sinfully delicious food from funny combinations of ingredients in my fridge. Crystal is just at the stage of frying up all kinds of process meat and beginning to brew some old fashion soups her employer likes. She is in the business of geriatric care.
Just in case you think that the clutz in the kitchen is not too hot in other spheres of life, I happen to have won quite a number of full scholarships in the earlier years. Elizabeth is articulate and quite accomplished in singing, acting, music making and quite a good student if you look at her track record. Believe it or not, we are not adept at multi-step sequences like cooking. Elizabeth and I would be equally hapless in the chemistry lab. But I could have chosen to continue with a Masters in IT concentrating on expert systems, it might not have been as fun as working on children's brains and character; though the former would have been equally challenging as well. Elizabeth's professors are telling her to consider going for a Masters as she is gifted in academic writing. We will see what God has in store for her.
Thursday, October 11, 2012
(72) Being attacked by a "best friend"
I have a friend who trusts me enough to tell me her difficulties: over her divorce, her learning disabilities even as a middle-age adult and her problems with her old friends.
We will call her Barbara here. She has an old friend from her child hood days who has stuck to her through thick and thin. Lately Barbara has been taking lifts regularly from that old friend, let us call this second lady Dorothy. Dorothy has two girls, one of them is definitely having some learning problems or other. Now, as a former tutor for such children, the first question I would ask is from which parent came the learning problems? It seems that even though Dorothy is a full time home-maker, one could not normally find a seat empty and ready in her sitting room. Each seat is either covered by newspaper, magazines or dried clothing that came back from the lines outdoor. I mean one may find such a state of disorganization in anyone's house once in a long while. But it seemed that it is the normal state in Dorothy's home. Looking at that, my bet is on for Dorothy to be the transmitter of those genes that her special daughter has received.
Interestingly, Dorothy began to attack Barbara for all her weaknesses: being not very co-ordinated in driving, poor directional recognition, inability to remember a sequence of steps that number more than three ... Since they have been best friends since childhood and stayed close, I doubt the attacks are personal in nature. I think Dorothy is in denial about her own shortcomings that she has more or less overcame. While her husband's millions added to what others expected of her, she resolutely refused to have a live-in maid. It does not help for others to pressure her to force her special daughter to shape up - some people thought that money could improve anyone. She herself foolishly chose to get involve in a church base charity teaching poor children with special needs. Well, actually she should have concentrated on helping her own child and achieve a certain measure of success before dabbling in other children's affair.
On top of all this, Dorothy chose to be with another mother whose young son has all the same symptoms as Dorothy's daughter at the same age. Dorothy's daughter is about five years older than this third woman's son. It is possible all these circumstances added up and pressurized Dorothy to a near breaking point. Barbara's proximity and her ineptness really irritated Dorothy and that could have been the last straw on the camel's back.
There are seven million people in our part of town. Barbara would be wise to meet Dorothy less under such circumstances. We vote with our feet where we want to go, whom we want to spend time with and what we want to do. For Barbara who has just attained a certain amount of peace and may be experiencing God's healing balm, she should not even allow a "best friend" to attack her just because the "best friend" happens to be having a raw deal. Temporary withdrawal seems to be the best policy at the moment.
We will call her Barbara here. She has an old friend from her child hood days who has stuck to her through thick and thin. Lately Barbara has been taking lifts regularly from that old friend, let us call this second lady Dorothy. Dorothy has two girls, one of them is definitely having some learning problems or other. Now, as a former tutor for such children, the first question I would ask is from which parent came the learning problems? It seems that even though Dorothy is a full time home-maker, one could not normally find a seat empty and ready in her sitting room. Each seat is either covered by newspaper, magazines or dried clothing that came back from the lines outdoor. I mean one may find such a state of disorganization in anyone's house once in a long while. But it seemed that it is the normal state in Dorothy's home. Looking at that, my bet is on for Dorothy to be the transmitter of those genes that her special daughter has received.
Interestingly, Dorothy began to attack Barbara for all her weaknesses: being not very co-ordinated in driving, poor directional recognition, inability to remember a sequence of steps that number more than three ... Since they have been best friends since childhood and stayed close, I doubt the attacks are personal in nature. I think Dorothy is in denial about her own shortcomings that she has more or less overcame. While her husband's millions added to what others expected of her, she resolutely refused to have a live-in maid. It does not help for others to pressure her to force her special daughter to shape up - some people thought that money could improve anyone. She herself foolishly chose to get involve in a church base charity teaching poor children with special needs. Well, actually she should have concentrated on helping her own child and achieve a certain measure of success before dabbling in other children's affair.
On top of all this, Dorothy chose to be with another mother whose young son has all the same symptoms as Dorothy's daughter at the same age. Dorothy's daughter is about five years older than this third woman's son. It is possible all these circumstances added up and pressurized Dorothy to a near breaking point. Barbara's proximity and her ineptness really irritated Dorothy and that could have been the last straw on the camel's back.
There are seven million people in our part of town. Barbara would be wise to meet Dorothy less under such circumstances. We vote with our feet where we want to go, whom we want to spend time with and what we want to do. For Barbara who has just attained a certain amount of peace and may be experiencing God's healing balm, she should not even allow a "best friend" to attack her just because the "best friend" happens to be having a raw deal. Temporary withdrawal seems to be the best policy at the moment.
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
(39) Challenge
This article is about the same teenager in 791. Through the many months of faithful follow up and a firm but kind approach, the pent up ball of energy in the body of a 13 year old girl has taken to my daughter, Elizabeth.
The young girl came to a group activity of much older girls. She came prepared with a design all mapped out on a piece of A4 paper. Elizabeth was very impressed with the serious approach. After all, none of the other older folks made any such preparation.
This time, the crisis came when the young girl took exception to a grown up spelling her name wrongly. Of course, the mistake was not intentional. The girl's mother chose to spell her name in a rather unusual way. Let's say she is called Yvonne. But on her legal documents, it is spelled as Evon. It would not be unusual for others to spell it the former way as a matter of convention. Yet we must also see the matter from the point of view of an underdog who has been teased all her years in school for this very fact!
Elizabeth was very taken aback when Evon went to tell the "culprit" directly that the latter had hurt her feelings. In doing so, Evon did not consider that the person she confronted was twice her age. Neither did she realized that this person was volatile in character. Elizabeth chose to intervene and made peace between the two. Although she did restore order and somewhat resolved the matter, she was looking to me and other more experienced people for wisdom.
I personally think that she did the best she could under the unusual circumstances. Of course she could bear in mind in future that such conflict came from years of suppressed emotions. Logic alone could not solve the entire problem. I am not saying that Evon did right by confronting, but I suppose it is a step forward for her to assert her rights after being boxed in by severe school discipline for six long years. Like it or not, it is a healthy step forward for her. We would do better in moderating the seething emotions and teaching her how to express herself in a socially acceptable manner. My days of working with such children are over for good. But it is interesting that Elizabeth has started her season when God sent Evon to stretch her group in learning to love and deal with individuals who required a lot of tough love and patience in the healing process. Definitely I am more than grateful that I can continue to write about this topic through listening to Elizabeth's experiences.
The young girl came to a group activity of much older girls. She came prepared with a design all mapped out on a piece of A4 paper. Elizabeth was very impressed with the serious approach. After all, none of the other older folks made any such preparation.
This time, the crisis came when the young girl took exception to a grown up spelling her name wrongly. Of course, the mistake was not intentional. The girl's mother chose to spell her name in a rather unusual way. Let's say she is called Yvonne. But on her legal documents, it is spelled as Evon. It would not be unusual for others to spell it the former way as a matter of convention. Yet we must also see the matter from the point of view of an underdog who has been teased all her years in school for this very fact!
Elizabeth was very taken aback when Evon went to tell the "culprit" directly that the latter had hurt her feelings. In doing so, Evon did not consider that the person she confronted was twice her age. Neither did she realized that this person was volatile in character. Elizabeth chose to intervene and made peace between the two. Although she did restore order and somewhat resolved the matter, she was looking to me and other more experienced people for wisdom.
I personally think that she did the best she could under the unusual circumstances. Of course she could bear in mind in future that such conflict came from years of suppressed emotions. Logic alone could not solve the entire problem. I am not saying that Evon did right by confronting, but I suppose it is a step forward for her to assert her rights after being boxed in by severe school discipline for six long years. Like it or not, it is a healthy step forward for her. We would do better in moderating the seething emotions and teaching her how to express herself in a socially acceptable manner. My days of working with such children are over for good. But it is interesting that Elizabeth has started her season when God sent Evon to stretch her group in learning to love and deal with individuals who required a lot of tough love and patience in the healing process. Definitely I am more than grateful that I can continue to write about this topic through listening to Elizabeth's experiences.
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
(991) SparkTop.org
Janine Addis from USA wrote Good Investment in YOU SAID IT, Reader's Digest November 2006. In the short two paragraphs she mentioned that she read Maria Bartiromo's profile of Charles Schwab in Money Matters:"To Tell the Truth,"RD September 2006. Apparently Schwab is dyslexic. He developed SparkTop.org that allows children to view the brains of famous people who had learning difficulties, to work with the creative part of their own brain and to communicate with other kids just like them.
Elizabeth located the site for me and it looked pretty attractive and interesting.
Elizabeth located the site for me and it looked pretty attractive and interesting.
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
(976) Early warning - Autism
Condensed from Medical Update, Reader's Digest, January 2003
It is estimated that autism affects seven children out of 1,000. The social and communicative skills of the affected children are impaired. They are often disturbed and isolated.
The test, Checklist for Autism in Toddlers, developed with researchers at the University of Cambridge's departments of experimental psychiatry and psychology, involves parents playing certain games with their child, watching behavior and answering simple questions.
Studies showed that autistic children fail to develop two skills that other children possess at an early age: they do not "pretend play" or point to share with an adult what they see.
This test should be completed by a GP. It takes less than ten minutes and can identify 75 percent of children at high risk.
It is estimated that autism affects seven children out of 1,000. The social and communicative skills of the affected children are impaired. They are often disturbed and isolated.
The test, Checklist for Autism in Toddlers, developed with researchers at the University of Cambridge's departments of experimental psychiatry and psychology, involves parents playing certain games with their child, watching behavior and answering simple questions.
Studies showed that autistic children fail to develop two skills that other children possess at an early age: they do not "pretend play" or point to share with an adult what they see.
This test should be completed by a GP. It takes less than ten minutes and can identify 75 percent of children at high risk.
Thursday, June 7, 2012
(972) The Man with the Map in his Head
by Bill Clements Reader's Digest April 2002
Stanford James, 24, has autism. Autism is a brain disorder that alters how a person processes information. As a person with high functioning autism, James has a remarkable visual memory. He is also passionate about trains and maps. In an unexpected way, his disability is a gift that enables him to become the best employee working at a help desk assisting customers of Chicago's Regional Transportation Authority via telephone.
Despite his special abilities in visualizing how to get from point A to point B, by foot, bus, train or subway; he can't handle his own pay. Until last year, he could not shave himself in the morning. Special education is what brings out the best in a learning disabled person, the goal is to enable the person to become a contributing citizen in society. Very often, young folks like James would require on-going help as well as training to lead meaningful lives.
I am very happy to see that happening in A Ray of Hope, a church based organization that owns a bakery and a cafe where their special young people are being trained to bake and serve in a controlled and friendly environment in Ipoh, Perak, Malaysia.
Stanford James, 24, has autism. Autism is a brain disorder that alters how a person processes information. As a person with high functioning autism, James has a remarkable visual memory. He is also passionate about trains and maps. In an unexpected way, his disability is a gift that enables him to become the best employee working at a help desk assisting customers of Chicago's Regional Transportation Authority via telephone.
Despite his special abilities in visualizing how to get from point A to point B, by foot, bus, train or subway; he can't handle his own pay. Until last year, he could not shave himself in the morning. Special education is what brings out the best in a learning disabled person, the goal is to enable the person to become a contributing citizen in society. Very often, young folks like James would require on-going help as well as training to lead meaningful lives.
I am very happy to see that happening in A Ray of Hope, a church based organization that owns a bakery and a cafe where their special young people are being trained to bake and serve in a controlled and friendly environment in Ipoh, Perak, Malaysia.
Saturday, June 2, 2012
(968) Colander brain
Elizabeth came back from uni and moaned,"My friend told me that I have asked her three times about the same thing and I still can't remember the little fact of her back ground! What is wrong with me?"
It is a good thing I have put my free time to good use while she was growing up. I used to take students that nobody wanted to teach and attempt to make pig's ears into silk purse. One thing that I came across very frequently is what I call colander brain. No matter how smart a child is, if he or she displays some symptoms of learning disability, chances are I will fight against this short coming in tutoring. In simple terms, I will teach and reteach certain simple pieces of fact for months until I feel like strangling the child or I want to sit there and laugh at myself. Why should a sane and some what intelligent home maker like me want to attempt the impossible? After all, I was no longer ambitious and I didn't really need the extra income. Yet time and again I was stupid enough to take on challenges I was not exactly trained for. That way, I had to pray for God to help me, I suppose!
Back to Elizabeth, my advice to her is to apologize and admit that she actually still suffers from some remnant of learning problems that somehow her brain is wired differently from most other people. Don't get me wrong, she has a fantastic memory for songs, music, lyrics, music score, musician's history and things of that kind. But she has to turn to me to ask me what her friends are studying in uni, what gift to buy for one friend ... I actually filed up all her friends' likes and dislikes through the years that I have chosen some very suitable gifts on her behalf.
One old friend of mine who was in denial throughout her sons' upbringing finally admitted it took her about six years to help her son to learn January to December. She sent her son to a Chinese elementary school. The Mandarin way of naming the months is 1 month, 2 month, 3 month instead of January, February, March ... Of course it was difficult for him to learn the English way of naming the months while he was studying in a Chinese environment. It probably made no sense for him at that point to learn such "nonsense". Anyway, he is studying in a premier Australian university now. All that struggle is worth it. But during those frustrating years, either the son, the mom or both would end up crying after half an hour's session together working on things of this kind.
Through my years of working with LD, I have not come across two individuals that have the same problems. While we can kind of categorize the type of similar problems, no one can draw a line and say that dyslexia is like this and autism is like that. Problems often overlap. What works for one child may not necessarily work for another. If you don't love children and have no extra patience to put up with their idiosyncrasies, special education is probably not for you. If you have an LD child and you lack patience to teach him or her, then be prepared to go out and make plenty of money to pay specialist tutors to do your job.
It is a good thing I have put my free time to good use while she was growing up. I used to take students that nobody wanted to teach and attempt to make pig's ears into silk purse. One thing that I came across very frequently is what I call colander brain. No matter how smart a child is, if he or she displays some symptoms of learning disability, chances are I will fight against this short coming in tutoring. In simple terms, I will teach and reteach certain simple pieces of fact for months until I feel like strangling the child or I want to sit there and laugh at myself. Why should a sane and some what intelligent home maker like me want to attempt the impossible? After all, I was no longer ambitious and I didn't really need the extra income. Yet time and again I was stupid enough to take on challenges I was not exactly trained for. That way, I had to pray for God to help me, I suppose!
Back to Elizabeth, my advice to her is to apologize and admit that she actually still suffers from some remnant of learning problems that somehow her brain is wired differently from most other people. Don't get me wrong, she has a fantastic memory for songs, music, lyrics, music score, musician's history and things of that kind. But she has to turn to me to ask me what her friends are studying in uni, what gift to buy for one friend ... I actually filed up all her friends' likes and dislikes through the years that I have chosen some very suitable gifts on her behalf.
One old friend of mine who was in denial throughout her sons' upbringing finally admitted it took her about six years to help her son to learn January to December. She sent her son to a Chinese elementary school. The Mandarin way of naming the months is 1 month, 2 month, 3 month instead of January, February, March ... Of course it was difficult for him to learn the English way of naming the months while he was studying in a Chinese environment. It probably made no sense for him at that point to learn such "nonsense". Anyway, he is studying in a premier Australian university now. All that struggle is worth it. But during those frustrating years, either the son, the mom or both would end up crying after half an hour's session together working on things of this kind.
Through my years of working with LD, I have not come across two individuals that have the same problems. While we can kind of categorize the type of similar problems, no one can draw a line and say that dyslexia is like this and autism is like that. Problems often overlap. What works for one child may not necessarily work for another. If you don't love children and have no extra patience to put up with their idiosyncrasies, special education is probably not for you. If you have an LD child and you lack patience to teach him or her, then be prepared to go out and make plenty of money to pay specialist tutors to do your job.
Friday, June 1, 2012
(964) Steps for parents with LD children
The following steps are extracted from "Does your child have Learning Disability?" by Henrylito Tacio, published in Reader's Digest December 2002.
1. Start with books
Start your children young with reading aloud books like Hop on Pop or The Cat in the Hat by Dr. Seuss. This will promote "phonemic awareness" which is the ability to recognize a word's separate, distinct sounds.
2. Watch for warnings
At age six or seven, a child who is English speaking would have picked up that there are more than 40 spoken sounds corresponding to the 26 letters and a combination. Test the child, ask him or her for words that rhyme with cat. The answers should be mat, hat and rat. If he or she said kitty or meow, that shows an inability to break down a word into sounds.
3. Call the doctor
Even if your paediatrician is not a LD expert, he can eliminate eye and ear problems and then refer you to the relevant expert.
4. Go to the Teacher
Parents with concerns should ask the teacher about the child's achievements in readings and other subjects. If the parents have noticed specific problems, for example the child has problems following a series of instructions, the teacher would be able to add to the parents' observation. Should the parents and teacher need further assistance, they can look to professional evaluation.
5. Study the school
It is recommended to keep LD children with their peers as much as possible but to provide them with special help in small group on a regular basis. For severe reading disabilities, experts recommend one-on-one instruction for at least half an hour daily.
6. Teach at home
Parents should be knowledgeable about LD. Follow up with the assignments the experts have given to the child. At every opportunity, teach informally using magnetic letters on the fridge and product names on the packages in the supermarket. Let your children help in the kitchen, in the process get the child to count and learn to divide or add food items.
7. Use technology
Use computer learning software to level the playing field for your LD Child. Help him or her by buying children's books with accompanying CD.
8. Get outside help
Hire a tutor recommended by the school if your child is still struggling. There are Dyslexia Associations in different countries and regions within the country. There are NGOs helping children with learning disabilities. Parents need to meet with other parents who have succeeded in helping their children overcome LD. Face it, we all need to share experiences and encourage one another.
And if you will indulge me, I would add that prayer helps tremendously. Pray for God's healing. Pray for dedicated teachers, wonderful mentors, loving friends and supportive neighbours.
1. Start with books
Start your children young with reading aloud books like Hop on Pop or The Cat in the Hat by Dr. Seuss. This will promote "phonemic awareness" which is the ability to recognize a word's separate, distinct sounds.
2. Watch for warnings
At age six or seven, a child who is English speaking would have picked up that there are more than 40 spoken sounds corresponding to the 26 letters and a combination. Test the child, ask him or her for words that rhyme with cat. The answers should be mat, hat and rat. If he or she said kitty or meow, that shows an inability to break down a word into sounds.
3. Call the doctor
Even if your paediatrician is not a LD expert, he can eliminate eye and ear problems and then refer you to the relevant expert.
4. Go to the Teacher
Parents with concerns should ask the teacher about the child's achievements in readings and other subjects. If the parents have noticed specific problems, for example the child has problems following a series of instructions, the teacher would be able to add to the parents' observation. Should the parents and teacher need further assistance, they can look to professional evaluation.
5. Study the school
It is recommended to keep LD children with their peers as much as possible but to provide them with special help in small group on a regular basis. For severe reading disabilities, experts recommend one-on-one instruction for at least half an hour daily.
6. Teach at home
Parents should be knowledgeable about LD. Follow up with the assignments the experts have given to the child. At every opportunity, teach informally using magnetic letters on the fridge and product names on the packages in the supermarket. Let your children help in the kitchen, in the process get the child to count and learn to divide or add food items.
7. Use technology
Use computer learning software to level the playing field for your LD Child. Help him or her by buying children's books with accompanying CD.
8. Get outside help
Hire a tutor recommended by the school if your child is still struggling. There are Dyslexia Associations in different countries and regions within the country. There are NGOs helping children with learning disabilities. Parents need to meet with other parents who have succeeded in helping their children overcome LD. Face it, we all need to share experiences and encourage one another.
And if you will indulge me, I would add that prayer helps tremendously. Pray for God's healing. Pray for dedicated teachers, wonderful mentors, loving friends and supportive neighbours.
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
(926) Intuition
This brought another case to mind. Ten years back, I was concerned enough to urge a dear friend to have her girl checked. There I ran the risk of losing an old friend. It was fortunate that she took it in her stride. Since money was no object and she had a sister residing in UK, she took her girl there for a comprehensive developmental examination. The girl was almost five at that point, the experts refused to give any label. They merely said that she was two years behind in her development. Her hearing was affected as she had gluey ears; sometimes she could hear, other times she could not. The hearing problem caused her speech delay. The problem of delay speech in turn caused her to be frustrated and moody. Many medical checks and years of close attention from a loving mom who gave up her promising career brought the girl around.
Children are gifts from above. Sometimes it could mean a lot of hard work, heart break, frustration, struggles and persistence before we could bring out the deeply hidden potential in them.
* A-coral-seen-off-Jarvis-I-002 from static.guim.co.uk
(919) Genetic Variation
Moved from 389 to be next to a companion blog
The first few months I landed in my college on the Eastern Seaboard of USA, I used to correspond with my brother by aerograms. In one of those newsy letters, I was informed of my cousin's suicide attempt. He was born and bred in southern China. Unfortunately, he won a place in a prestigious university in northern China. Within a few months, he was clinically depressed. Sadly, he had one failed suicide within the first year. After lengthy hospitalization, he was diagnosed with the sunlight related disease, quite a long name with many syllables. You see, should his brain not receive certain hours of bright sunlight per day, his brain chemicals begin to change and he tailspins slowly but surely into severe depression.
I was astounded by the sad news. Being born and bred for twenty years in a bright and sunny tropical country, I have taken the sun for granted. As long as I have breath and it does not rain, the sun shall shine. Not so in temperate America! Within three weeks of a wet, dim and drizzly spring, my usual even temper began to change. I was easily irritated and would snap readily when others tried to be difficult in dealing with me. The first year, my good friends used to snicker behind my back and whisper PMS (Pre-Menstrual syndrome). Some of them would be extra gentle and handle me with kid gloves. By second year, a few saw the pattern and actually marked my outbursts on their desk top calendars. One was brave enough to confront me once the spring rain stopped and asked if I have a genetic abnormality. I did not seek a medical diagnosis. By third year, I found that a few hours of reading next to my dorm mate's tanning lamp would negate the forces of darkness.
That was the early eighties. This is now a good thirty years later. I recently mentioned about my little infirmity to another cousin who is about ten years my junior. Guess what? She went right on to tell me about her problems. Since she did not study abroad, she did not realize she inherited the same set of faulty genes until our country had a really bad bout of haze -- when the readings went well above the double digits for weeks. That year, my brother had a tough time hunting for good guava because the harvest was badly affected by the haze. The unit price of retail guava skyrocketed and still one cannot get a hold of the usual big and plump round guava. During those days of sub-standard lighting, my cousin would come home from work and wept at the slightest provocation. She used to feel slighted easily and felt unwanted and unloved by anyone she came across. It is funny that on normal days she is a strong minded person whose head sits squarely on her level shoulders.
Just last week I finally gathered up the courage to tell my brothers about these three cases within the family.
- My cousin who was clinically depressed in northern China.
- I who would switch and turn into quite a bitch when the weather became gloomy.
- My other cousin who would be weepy and helpless in a period of dull, hazy days.
It did not end here, my niece went to England and failed no matter how hard she worked. Her brother actually believed she became depressed and reclusive. If you count our small family group, the number seemed significant.
My grandma who migrated from Canton had four children. The eldest daughter had two children, neither of those two had ever lived abroad. So we can't tell if they are blessed by the presence of those genetic aberration. The second boy grew to be the father of my weepy cousin when the sun hides itself behind thick haze. My mum is the third girl and she begets me who would snap at all and sundry in the spring rain. My eldest brother has a daughter who may very well be part of the club. She came back from England with the long winter nights and thrives now in our hot sunny weather. My grandma's youngest son has two children, out of which came the elder one who suffered the most because he ventured to a place with little sunlight in winter.
Not counting spouses, we boast of eighteen direct descendants from my maternal grandma. (f1 generation of four siblings have never lived away from the equator for any extended period of time) Out of eighteen individuals, we have at least three (f2 generation) whom believe they are bearers of the faulty genes. And one suspected case in the f 3 generation. That is close to a quarter. Frightening! But as long as those affected ones stick around the equator, they will be perfectly alright as long as haze does not hit too badly.
The first few months I landed in my college on the Eastern Seaboard of USA, I used to correspond with my brother by aerograms. In one of those newsy letters, I was informed of my cousin's suicide attempt. He was born and bred in southern China. Unfortunately, he won a place in a prestigious university in northern China. Within a few months, he was clinically depressed. Sadly, he had one failed suicide within the first year. After lengthy hospitalization, he was diagnosed with the sunlight related disease, quite a long name with many syllables. You see, should his brain not receive certain hours of bright sunlight per day, his brain chemicals begin to change and he tailspins slowly but surely into severe depression.
I was astounded by the sad news. Being born and bred for twenty years in a bright and sunny tropical country, I have taken the sun for granted. As long as I have breath and it does not rain, the sun shall shine. Not so in temperate America! Within three weeks of a wet, dim and drizzly spring, my usual even temper began to change. I was easily irritated and would snap readily when others tried to be difficult in dealing with me. The first year, my good friends used to snicker behind my back and whisper PMS (Pre-Menstrual syndrome). Some of them would be extra gentle and handle me with kid gloves. By second year, a few saw the pattern and actually marked my outbursts on their desk top calendars. One was brave enough to confront me once the spring rain stopped and asked if I have a genetic abnormality. I did not seek a medical diagnosis. By third year, I found that a few hours of reading next to my dorm mate's tanning lamp would negate the forces of darkness.
That was the early eighties. This is now a good thirty years later. I recently mentioned about my little infirmity to another cousin who is about ten years my junior. Guess what? She went right on to tell me about her problems. Since she did not study abroad, she did not realize she inherited the same set of faulty genes until our country had a really bad bout of haze -- when the readings went well above the double digits for weeks. That year, my brother had a tough time hunting for good guava because the harvest was badly affected by the haze. The unit price of retail guava skyrocketed and still one cannot get a hold of the usual big and plump round guava. During those days of sub-standard lighting, my cousin would come home from work and wept at the slightest provocation. She used to feel slighted easily and felt unwanted and unloved by anyone she came across. It is funny that on normal days she is a strong minded person whose head sits squarely on her level shoulders.
Just last week I finally gathered up the courage to tell my brothers about these three cases within the family.
- My cousin who was clinically depressed in northern China.
- I who would switch and turn into quite a bitch when the weather became gloomy.
- My other cousin who would be weepy and helpless in a period of dull, hazy days.
It did not end here, my niece went to England and failed no matter how hard she worked. Her brother actually believed she became depressed and reclusive. If you count our small family group, the number seemed significant.
My grandma who migrated from Canton had four children. The eldest daughter had two children, neither of those two had ever lived abroad. So we can't tell if they are blessed by the presence of those genetic aberration. The second boy grew to be the father of my weepy cousin when the sun hides itself behind thick haze. My mum is the third girl and she begets me who would snap at all and sundry in the spring rain. My eldest brother has a daughter who may very well be part of the club. She came back from England with the long winter nights and thrives now in our hot sunny weather. My grandma's youngest son has two children, out of which came the elder one who suffered the most because he ventured to a place with little sunlight in winter.
Not counting spouses, we boast of eighteen direct descendants from my maternal grandma. (f1 generation of four siblings have never lived away from the equator for any extended period of time) Out of eighteen individuals, we have at least three (f2 generation) whom believe they are bearers of the faulty genes. And one suspected case in the f 3 generation. That is close to a quarter. Frightening! But as long as those affected ones stick around the equator, they will be perfectly alright as long as haze does not hit too badly.
Sunday, April 29, 2012
(917) Functional fatty acid defficiency
Today we will talk about a condition called fatty acid functional deficiency. The word "functional" denotes that under normal circumstances, what would be enough becomes short under special circumstances. One of the special circumstances would be high stress. Our bodies need many types of fatty acids in order to metabolise the food we take in. Even though there are a few individuals who survive only on fruits, nuts and vegetables alone, they need a fair amount of nuts to function. Certain nuts are rich in fatty acids the body needs desperately.
I was extremely fortunate to be born in the sixties when just about everyone in my community were healthily thin. My parents allowed me to take as much food in any combination I chose as long as I did not encroach on others' share. I remember taking two plates of rice for any meal I take at home throughout my school days. You see, each day I used to walk at least 4 km just to get to school. Whenever I stay up nights to do home work or study, I would cook and eat 1 packet of instant noodle with plenty of shallot oil (which my mum supplies year round) at about 10pm. I know, that is very unhealthy. But at that point I had a very high metabolic rate. Without extra food intake at night, I would be even thinner.
However, my niece was not as fortunate. Remember her who did not do so well in cold winter nights that are so long in UK? From young, her mum and grandma monitor her food intake. Prosperity leads to higher BMI across the board in our society. Although my brother's family members are healthy and weigh in normally, they are very careful of their oil intake.
There was a week that I took over the cooking of dinners for this family as my mum was unwell. Everything I cooked was too oily for them. I had to consciously cut down the amount of oil I used to half to fit their preference. I wonder if my niece's life long problem of rashes, hives and eczema were related to fatty acid deficiency? It was uncanny that her skin problems peaked around the time she was stressed over public examinations! Could it be that under normal circumstances, she has enough fatty acids in her diet. But the minute she was under stress, her normal need would double or triple, the body's inability to meet that need leads to burning down of whatever store of fat in the body, thereafter the unmet need manifests itself in a host of skin irritations?
I was a fat baby. But by the time I was about four years old I looked like a starving child from Africa (minus the distended belly). That was a very difficult time of learning for me, I had lots of problems pronouncing certain sounds in my dialect. The worst problem was saying "rice" correctly. For at least two years I could not say sounds beginning with "f" correctly. All the kids in the neighbourhood would laugh and taunt me when I said charcoal instead. Some mean ones would take a piece of charcoal and force it into my mouth. So instead of saying eat rice (lunch or dinner) I would have to remember to say eat porridge (which begins with a "c" sound). I seldom tell anyone this part of my past. No one would believe me, as I fought against all these in born speech impediments for many years. By the time I was fourteen years old, I was an expert debater who won competitions. But along the way I used to stammer too, especially in my elementary school years.
Enough about me and my niece. We move on to my no. two daughter. One day my husband caught her drinking two soup spoonfuls of raw peanut(cooking) oil. Out of all my children, this one is the shortest and the thinnest. After telling my husband that I would not worry about it, the entire story that I suspect my maternal family side may carry this genetic aberration came out. My husband was very surprised. He has been married to me for twenty over years and has not heard me mention "fatty acid functional deficiency" before.
If you have read my last post of Elizabeth's "boo boo" in the office as a temporary staff, it would be interesting to note that on her way home from the office (she drives now), she would buy some deep fried staff (like fried banana fritters) from the road side stall. From how much she bought, I can tell what kind of day she had. On an excellent day, she would not even think of such oily stuff. But that particular day that I captured "Learning difficulties 17" out of her gloom and doom, she bought four types of fried stuff. Of course I don't allow her to eat too much of such food. But you and I can see that the stress level is directly proportionate to the craving for oil.
Sunday, April 22, 2012
(907) Blogging
When I was a teenager, I used to write articles in my mother tongue to earn a few dollars. While in college I took a few writing courses in English. Despite the fact that my professor said I had talent, it was extremely tedious for me to polish each paper for submission.
Years later, God told me to write. I was stumped for a long time. What to write? Then what to do with the writing? I realise I do not want to lose my privacy as an unknown individual. One day my teenager showed me her friend's blog. Suddenly I saw in a flash that I could blog anonymously, yet those pieces of blog is open and freely available in the cyberspace. If I change all names of places, chances are that no one could identify the author nor the characters.
So I set about to record things that strike me as worth keeping. Hard as it is, I believe few people would admit to having learning disabilities as children. Could be they have forgotten! Could be they like to forget all about the painful struggle! If by playing the role of scribe, I have helped you in any way. I praise God! If you have any questions, you can leave comments in my blog. If I can answer, I will. If I can't, there may be individual experts or organisations I can refer you to. But I honestly believe God has all the answers for us. If you really seek, you shall find. I have had no special training what so ever. Yet God has led me to help my children as well as a few others to overcome their handicaps.
* 398px-PillarCoral from motherjones.com
Saturday, April 21, 2012
(904) Single vs multi-tasking
Multi-taskingRecently I had a rather interesting discussion with a friend. We talked about single versus multi-tasking. My friend claimed that for as long as she could remember, she had been multi-tasking. Not only she was good at doing a few things at one time, she actually enjoyed the challenge of keeping seven pots covered with five lids.
Since she turned forty, she found that her short-term memory was not as good as it was before. Then she read a scientific report on how researchers found that multi-tasking folks are at a higher risk of having short term memory loss compared to their single-tasking counterparts of the same age-group.
As we were sharing merrily on, we realised we each could name a few names of those near and dear to us who faced the same challenge. Many are the tales of misplaced keys or wallets in moments of haste.
Now, how does this topic link to learning disability? Well! May I share my unqualified observations. Whenever a learning disabled person struggles to overcome a handicap, he or she tends to single task for that moment. For that 'difficult' task consumes all the attention.
* coral from planetsave.com
(896) Direct Guidance
While I was working with special children, a friend recommended a child to me. Since I could not see any learning difficulties with the case history, I spent some time praying if I should take the child. When the answer came, it was in the form of vision when I was washing dishes. I saw the lesson clearly in my head. It was like this: I was to make jelly with the girl. In a clear glass, I was to make a jelly of three layers. The bottom layer is to be clear jelly with some red dye. In the middle a layer of jelly mixed with red dye and coconut milk. On top it was to be a layer of jelly with coconut milk alone.
Then the lesson came out of my heart: I was to tell her that the bottom layer is the way God made her heart, clear and pure. The top layer is the world: full of deceit and lies. The middle layer is what her heart was like when she came to me, affected by the lies she told. Her heart was no longer clear nor pure, but opaque with lies.
In the end, I did not carry out the lesson. While I considered about taking her, the step-mother of the girl changed her mind about sending the girl. It is not often that I was under direct guidance like this. I could see how much God loves this girl of mix parentage. While I was not given a chance to intervene in her life, God may send another person into her life further on in time. I believe in a God of love, who gives us second chance in his mercy.
Friday, April 20, 2012
(893) Hopscotch therapy
Just yesterday I was reading a book describing a far away country. The author related how from the window of a moving train he saw children playing hop scotch.
As a child, I spent many happy moments playing hop scotch on the dirt floor outside my grandma's squatter house. It was also one of the favourite games in primary school in the nineteen sixties.
Season after season flew by and by the time my children were born, computer games and game boys were what children in the late nineteen nineties chose. Being a nostalgic person, I would acquire some color chalk, draw on the cement floor and teach my children, nephews, nieces and their friends the 'aeroplane' hop scotch. Looking at how some of them struggled, I then realized how much physical games train a child in terms of balance and co-ordination.
When my daughter was in Grade One, her classmate used to come to our house at least two nights a week to do their homework together. All went well until it came to addition in Maths where the numbers they added bring them to carry tens or twenties from the digit column to the tens columns. There Aurora would either get the total wrong or she would forget to carry. Should she have gotten the digit column correct, the tens column would be out or vice versa.
I was obviously tearing my hair out, not angry at the girl; more of being frustrated at my inability to teach her. My son stepped in and suggested that we use a container; should there be one 'ten' to carry, we put in one chip. Then we introduced an extra step: (1) One chip for one 'ten', (2) Before writing down the 'ten' column total, we look at the plastic container. So far so good; as long as we did it step by step, guiding her along, she would get it right.
Then we jubilantly let her do the rest with less and less guidance. The results were mixed; should she remember to check the container, then she would successfully carry that ten. After Aurora went home, we shared our frustration with my husband. He asked a lot of questions. At the end he said that for whatever reason, Aurora had no storage space or 'buffer' apart from her main working area in her head. Oh dear, how would one go about creating a new register within a human brain?
It is now more than ten years later; I honestly cannot recall if we just stumbled on the solution?! Or did I pray and dream about the solution? One thing I do recall is seeing a book in the town council library about a snail hop scotch. I drew it and tested the game with my son. Then we played it once with both my son and daughter.
You may not believe it, but we had to simplify it for Aurora. The first day we just taught her the mechanics of alternating two feet with one foot around the circle (In terms of maths, it is like adding single digits not amounting to ten.). The next session we taught her going around to reach the center, turning around and retracing her steps to the beginning (like remembering to start adding from the right, moving onto the left). Then we had to teach her to pick up a stone before starting (like noting that we need to carry a 'ten'), then having to remember to drop the stone in the center before the about turn to get out of the circle (to remember to add the 'ten' or 1 to the 'tens' column).
It really took her an entire week of daily learning and practicing before she could do all of it together. Of course we had fun playing. My son was tall and had wide feet; his weakest point was stepping and erasing chalk line. I would try hopping in all the narrow confined boxes and get all out of breath. My daughter found it the easiest; she was tiny, quick and nimble.
The funny thing was, around the time Aurora could finally win the snail hop scotch, she also ceased having problems totting up multiple numbers into a final total. Somehow, the concrete physical actions to remember created the extra register space to keep track of 'carrying' for arithmetic.
* frogspawn-coral-lg from fishlore.com
(892) Maths phobia
A friend called and asked if I would take a case of math phobia. It never occurred to me to refuse. I did not think of asking for background either.
Then when the kid turned up, she was extremely nervous. My room was fairly cool actually. Yet I can see drops of sweat on her pointed delicate nose. She could not meet my eyes and seemed to be looking at a point in her lap. When I placed a work sheet in front of her, her lips started trembling. She began twisting her handkerchief. I felt like an executioner. Why did I ever move into special education without any proper training, anyway? My eyes darted around the room. Ah! There it was! I walked over to the cross stitch kit left on the small table next to the TV.
Next, I found myself chatting with Kimberly. She likes kittens. And, guess what? There was the gift wrapper I saved from Keziah's birthday present last year. We spent the dreaded hour tracing kitten shapes onto graph paper and inexpertly filling in the tiny squares with colours. When her mom turned up in the shining Camry, she could actually smile at her and asked if they could go shopping for embroidery thread.
We spent the next session outlining the cloth with a square box to contain the propose kittens' portrait. She counted out tens while I marked dots on the underside. By the time the entire area is divided into squares, I explained how the graph sheet relate to the target area on the cloth. She caught on really fast. Anyone could see Kimberly is intelligent. With weekly assignment of filling the kitten outlines with coloured crosses, we finished the project in six weeks. It was really satisfying to see her face when I praise her finished piece of work. I gently asked if she wanted to move back to the empty workbook, and she shook her head.
It's a good thing I anticipated that. Out came my shining beads of many colours and little coils of fishing line. After I explained to her about working times table into necklace and bracelets. She was really animated. As she threaded beads, I realised she has very good colour sense. By the time Mom turned up, she had created gifts for her seat mate, her cousin and a chum next door. Best of all, she could recite times table one to five.
And we went on enjoying our sessions. By the time she could relax enough to work on a revision test for her grade level, we know it is time to say good bye. Once she climbed out of her self-imposed psycological bind, she will not need any math tutor. If her school teacher did not punish students for making careless mistakes in test and if Mom did not ground the poor girl for dropping below eighty percent, she would have no need to come to me at all.
* CarolReef3DScreensaver wm from forum.esoft.in
Sunday, April 8, 2012
(880) Birds of a feather flock together
I went for a conference. There I met three ladies. I told one of them that I blog. This is a one of a kind blog that I do not disclose my blog name to any one (whether friends or strangers) from my country. My aim in blogging is not to have high hits. But if you are attracted to my writings, then chances are that you or someone dear to you struggles with some learning difficulties.
Let me tell you about lady number one. We will call her Martha. Martha related to me that she was a good student in elementary school. After her big sister started taking her to Sunday School, she started to strive for excellence. Please note that in her school(age 6 to 12) the medium of instruction is Mandarin. By the time she went on to high school, she went with her friends to a Government school where the medium of instruction is the national language. Throughout her years of education, she was exposed to three languages.
Thereafter she worked progressively harder but actually gotten more behind in her studies. Her grades in all language related subjects dropped year after year. She knew that God had given her intelligence, but even with hours of daily intensive work, she could not do well. Today she volunteers in Church and lives very simply on love gifts. What she said struck me: "If I had had the fore sight at age 12 to choose to enter a private school where the medium of instruction is in Mandarin, today I would have become a different person."
Remember my two articles on Genetic variations? If God is willing, there will be seven of them by the time I finish writing. Just out of curiosity I asked her about three and she said yes to one of them. Then I know that it was not by chance that we met. I suspect she was dyslexic but possess gifts that she has not discovered yet. While I was asking questions and telling her bits of information that would help her to successfully search for her rightful heritage, the conversation attracted a second lady.
This second person is a young fresh graduate. From her few questions I can sense that she was fishing for information. Of course it is difficult to guess correctly when the info seeker does not disclose any clue. Time was short and I simply mentioned that I blog and only those who are really interested would search by keywords to hit my blog site. I mentioned that if I choose to, I could attempt to write in such a way that even the person being written about might not be certain that he or she had been featured in my writings. However, in this case I want her to be sure to know that this article is written for her, just in case she went home to search for my writings in cyberspace.
The third person also was drawn into the discussion. I could see that there was great desire in her for self discovery. Later she told me that she suspected that she probably was mildly autistic when she was young. I pointed her to the bible where it says, "seek and you shall find." and disclosed briefly how God led me step by step to discover my disabilities (most of which I had over come by age 21) in order to claim my gifts. For emotional disturbances, the solution is 1. daily bible reading
2. prayer
3. singing spiritual songs
4. scripture meditation
5. scripture memory
Once they have started on the journey of discovery, God will lead them on. I may not be able to do much for each of them. But at the right time in the right place, I hope to point the right person either to God or if the person is already walking with God on the path of self discovery, I may be able to encourage her and point her to the next marker. But only God can lead her to where she desired and was supposed to go.
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
(848) Myelination
Just the other day I was chatting with my friend. She mentioned that her friend Stacy was having problems with her adopted daughter, Crystal. Crystal went into Grade 1 at the beginning of this year. Until now, she failed to grasp the idea of addition. For failing to add 2 and 3 together, this is the second case of supposed normal girls I have come across. My cousin's youngest daughter had this problem. Her teacher was at wit's end. Her mum screamed at her own inability to make things clear. In the end, it took the father's patient coaching over a three-day weekend to get her across the hurdle.
Years later, I asked the father how did he learn to do special education. He said he did not have any such difficulty himself, but he had to help all his brothers and sisters. Sure enough, he was the only graduate in his own family. I suppose if dyslexia run in that family, his daughter was suffering from discalculia.
I have no problem with calculations. But I did have some difficulties teaching my eldest son the time tables. He can recite it alright at age 10. But twist the problem a little and he got waylaid, couldn't apply either multiplication or division to solve the problem. For Grade 1 and 2, he was doing well. But when the times table was slowly introduced, he did not understand the principles behind it at all. Yet for standard problems, he could solve them. So he was not doing badly in terms of marks. I was highly stressed those few years, diligent as I was in drilling, he was not making any progress. Then, interestingly, it happened exactly as my husband predicted. Somewhere towards the end of Grade 5, over one weekend he leaped. On Friday night I was still shaking my head over his failure to spot the tricky problems. Surprisingly on Monday night he aced and had no more problems with all types of questions to do with multiplication and division from that point on. I was shocked!
Years later, I read that this happened when the nerve bundles in the child's nervous systems become fully myelinated. Imagine individual nerve as electrical wire, each should be totally insulated. In the case of wire, we need rubber or plastic insulation. Nerves, on the other hand, are insulated by fatty acids or such like organic compounds. According to the experts, prior to perfect insulation, electrical signals crossed wire. Hence, all my hard work drilling was going no where. Yet when he was ready, the nerves individually insulated, he could not only understand, but he could solve all kinds of problems on his own. I did not improve in my teaching at all, but he had the needed apparatus and hence could hold his own.
Interestingly, even though he was not particularly gifted in mathematics (in his case, he is able to pick up phrases rather easily in any foreign countries), he did not require any more coaching in maths from that point onward. Once he got past pre-u mathematics, he excelled in linguistics.
Years later, I asked the father how did he learn to do special education. He said he did not have any such difficulty himself, but he had to help all his brothers and sisters. Sure enough, he was the only graduate in his own family. I suppose if dyslexia run in that family, his daughter was suffering from discalculia.
I have no problem with calculations. But I did have some difficulties teaching my eldest son the time tables. He can recite it alright at age 10. But twist the problem a little and he got waylaid, couldn't apply either multiplication or division to solve the problem. For Grade 1 and 2, he was doing well. But when the times table was slowly introduced, he did not understand the principles behind it at all. Yet for standard problems, he could solve them. So he was not doing badly in terms of marks. I was highly stressed those few years, diligent as I was in drilling, he was not making any progress. Then, interestingly, it happened exactly as my husband predicted. Somewhere towards the end of Grade 5, over one weekend he leaped. On Friday night I was still shaking my head over his failure to spot the tricky problems. Surprisingly on Monday night he aced and had no more problems with all types of questions to do with multiplication and division from that point on. I was shocked!
Years later, I read that this happened when the nerve bundles in the child's nervous systems become fully myelinated. Imagine individual nerve as electrical wire, each should be totally insulated. In the case of wire, we need rubber or plastic insulation. Nerves, on the other hand, are insulated by fatty acids or such like organic compounds. According to the experts, prior to perfect insulation, electrical signals crossed wire. Hence, all my hard work drilling was going no where. Yet when he was ready, the nerves individually insulated, he could not only understand, but he could solve all kinds of problems on his own. I did not improve in my teaching at all, but he had the needed apparatus and hence could hold his own.
Interestingly, even though he was not particularly gifted in mathematics (in his case, he is able to pick up phrases rather easily in any foreign countries), he did not require any more coaching in maths from that point onward. Once he got past pre-u mathematics, he excelled in linguistics.
Saturday, March 24, 2012
(841) Crocodile meat as medicine
A friend was having lots of phlegm in her lungs and coughing continually but did not seem to dislodge it. I thought of my experience with Michael when he was about three years old.
Around that time I was working part-time in a local college but was sending Michael to a full time nanny. Michael was prone to cough and cold. One particular episode of flu was unusually virulent. He went through three sets of antibiotic plus other medication but was still coughing badly. My nanny's husband was a rather over bearing man. He instructed me to go to one village medicine shop (Chinese physician), ask for crocodile meat and whatever herb accompanying, boil them as instructed and force it down Michael's throat.
I was at wit's end then, so accordingly I did exactly as he instructed. The boiling formula was to add two bowls of water to the ingredients and boil it on low fire until I have one bowl of liquid left in the pot. I measured two bowls, started the slow boil. Then I sat down in the kitchen wondering how on earth would I know when to stop. After all, my eyes cannot tell me how much liquid would make one bowl. My dear husband walked in and asked me why I was sitting there watching the brew heating.
When he heard my difficulty, he tried not to laugh. He took a spoon and showed me the level of liquid with two bowls. So he said that when the liquid level falls to half that mark, the brew is ready. He used the spoon upside down, there was a leaf conveniently carved on the handle at the level where I should turn off the fire. I thought, why was I so stupid not to think of that myself. The big problem being solved, so I checked the brew every five minutes until it was done!
I remembered my husband and I forced fed the smelly medicine down my poor son's throat at about 5 pm. That night(at 1:30am) he woke up gagging and vomited a large pool of thick phlegm on the bathroom floor. The following day he was completely well.
My friend said her God ma did cook some foul broth twice like I said but it did not help her. She commented that if she were to go through what I related: having the difficulty of judging liquid level, she would be soundly scolded by her ex-husband. He could not accept the fact that she is not as clever and accomplished as he is. After about twenty years of being ill treated, put down, humiliated, emotionally abused... she finally called it quits. Her divorce finalized three years ago. She is rather happy earning her own keep now.
I believe she and I are both dyslexic to a certain extent, for her certain traits are more severe, I could have overcome my short comings a little further. I suppose it helped that my parents treated me like gold. I have spent the earlier part of my life earning honors. God was good that I won a scholarship to an American college. Many smarter people applied but could not go. I worked hard and graduated with honors. More than that, I was honored by the nomination to Phi Beta Kappa. Even if my husband dared to belittle me, I would not meekly swallow it. I know my own worth. It is not that I deserve honors, it is more of the fact that God has endowed me with lots of talents. He more than made up for all my short comings.
As I continue to listen to this woman who has suffered much. She in turn is helping her niece. That niece displayed even more classic symptoms of dyslexia. Well, the niece is fortunate that her aunt stuck her neck out to explain things to the former when she was 21. She will have many years of understanding and working within herself to overcome what needs to be worked on. She would not fall prey to others who might put her down because she could not help being what God made her to be.
Even for my friend who first learnt that she was merely dyslexic and not brain damaged at age 47, there is healing in God. As she accepts herself, peace and confidence would be her portion.
Around that time I was working part-time in a local college but was sending Michael to a full time nanny. Michael was prone to cough and cold. One particular episode of flu was unusually virulent. He went through three sets of antibiotic plus other medication but was still coughing badly. My nanny's husband was a rather over bearing man. He instructed me to go to one village medicine shop (Chinese physician), ask for crocodile meat and whatever herb accompanying, boil them as instructed and force it down Michael's throat.
I was at wit's end then, so accordingly I did exactly as he instructed. The boiling formula was to add two bowls of water to the ingredients and boil it on low fire until I have one bowl of liquid left in the pot. I measured two bowls, started the slow boil. Then I sat down in the kitchen wondering how on earth would I know when to stop. After all, my eyes cannot tell me how much liquid would make one bowl. My dear husband walked in and asked me why I was sitting there watching the brew heating.
When he heard my difficulty, he tried not to laugh. He took a spoon and showed me the level of liquid with two bowls. So he said that when the liquid level falls to half that mark, the brew is ready. He used the spoon upside down, there was a leaf conveniently carved on the handle at the level where I should turn off the fire. I thought, why was I so stupid not to think of that myself. The big problem being solved, so I checked the brew every five minutes until it was done!
I remembered my husband and I forced fed the smelly medicine down my poor son's throat at about 5 pm. That night(at 1:30am) he woke up gagging and vomited a large pool of thick phlegm on the bathroom floor. The following day he was completely well.
My friend said her God ma did cook some foul broth twice like I said but it did not help her. She commented that if she were to go through what I related: having the difficulty of judging liquid level, she would be soundly scolded by her ex-husband. He could not accept the fact that she is not as clever and accomplished as he is. After about twenty years of being ill treated, put down, humiliated, emotionally abused... she finally called it quits. Her divorce finalized three years ago. She is rather happy earning her own keep now.
I believe she and I are both dyslexic to a certain extent, for her certain traits are more severe, I could have overcome my short comings a little further. I suppose it helped that my parents treated me like gold. I have spent the earlier part of my life earning honors. God was good that I won a scholarship to an American college. Many smarter people applied but could not go. I worked hard and graduated with honors. More than that, I was honored by the nomination to Phi Beta Kappa. Even if my husband dared to belittle me, I would not meekly swallow it. I know my own worth. It is not that I deserve honors, it is more of the fact that God has endowed me with lots of talents. He more than made up for all my short comings.
As I continue to listen to this woman who has suffered much. She in turn is helping her niece. That niece displayed even more classic symptoms of dyslexia. Well, the niece is fortunate that her aunt stuck her neck out to explain things to the former when she was 21. She will have many years of understanding and working within herself to overcome what needs to be worked on. She would not fall prey to others who might put her down because she could not help being what God made her to be.
Even for my friend who first learnt that she was merely dyslexic and not brain damaged at age 47, there is healing in God. As she accepts herself, peace and confidence would be her portion.
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