A Guest Blog Post From My Grandmother
Strategies for Raising a Child With Learning Disabilities
I was going through some of my old writing and came across something that I had transcribed from my grandmother’s writing. This is the same grandma I was a caretaker for much later in life as I wrote about here
My father’s mother wrote articles for multiple periodicals such as National Geographic and Life Magazine. I have boxfuls of her articles inside these publications, mostly written from the 1950’s through the 1990’s. She got her Master’s degree in Botany, taught as a professor at the University of Toledo, and was a prominent conservationist. This article interested me a great deal as her son Craig that she is referring to is my father. My Dad was always a bit of an idiot savant.
Grandma’s words really stick with me in this and some of her advice I think is great for anyone struggling with a learning disabled child even to this day. There is a legacy we get from those who passed before us and a duty we have to fulfill a contract with them. My father pushed heavily to care for his mother after grandpa died of a heart attack and her dementia could no longer be hidden.
“Caring for someone old is like caring for a baby in reverse.” My father told me at the time. “She took care of me when I was a child. We can do it for her now.”
This is my guest post from my Grandma Jeanne. May she rest in peace.
We Taught Our Child to Speak
Originally published March 1958 Life Magazine
Our kindly family doctor walked into the hospital ward looking very uncomfortable that day in 1949. "You should be prepared to face the fact that your baby may not live," he said to my husband and me. "We are doing our best, but we can only hope."
Our spirits sank. Craig was our third child, our first son. How could I ever explain to the two small sisters who waited eagerly at home for their new brother?
Our doctor explained that because of an Rh negative condition our baby must have blood transfusions immediately. Dick's face whitened and his grip tightened on my hand.
We had told our daughters about the illness of their baby brother, but it was difficult to make them understand why we hadn't brought him home. Craig hovered between life and death in the nursery, but he gained strength daily. Finally he seemed on the road to recovery. For the first time we dared to hope that our son would soon be well and strong.
A month after Craig's birth we were assured that he would be all right and that we could treat him as any normal, healthy infant. We rejoiced that we had been so blessed.
During the next two years we noticed that Craig was a little slower in standing, walking, and talking, but weren't worried. Boys were slower to develop than girls, we told ourselves. At two Craig still made himself understood with gestures, and many times by howling. His sisters were quite disgusted at times but often understood and catered to his demands before we did.
When we explained that Craig couldn't help it because he couldn't talk, they became more understanding and often were buffers between Craig and less thoughtful outsiders. The doctor tested Craig's vocal organs and hearing and again assured us that both were normal. He was just slower the others. The doctor pointed out that perhaps we were expecting too much. For the next couple of years we learned to be more patient with his shortcomings. We found it increasingly difficult to resist advice of well-meaning friends and relatives, but we had our doctor's reassurances.
A Doctor Offers Hope
When Craig was five years old we were referred to an excellent pediatrician. He examined Craig and explained that often children who have such a poor start in life develop slowly. As Craig was sound physically, he saw no reason why he would not be all right if allowed to develop at his own speed.
"Don't subject the child to constant examination," We were instructed. "Nothing you can do will speed the process. Go home and be thankful he is healthy. Don't run to this one and that one trying to find a miracle. There isn't one. Just be patient."
That was probably the best advice anyone could have given us.
It has not been easy to accept the attitude of a few who seem to regard Craig as a sort of freak. "Will he understand me if I ask him something?" they would inquire. "Is he hard of hearing?" "An imbecile?" "I heard about a place—"
Many thought we neglected Craig's problem, and we encountered criticism often. If the experience taught as nothing else, we learned to listen to authorities rather than the uninformed. There were times when we had to reassure the girls and ourselves, but even their patience with Craig grew. Our acquired patience developed into compassion for others with similar problems.
School presented a great problem. Craig's sisters had done above-average work in school, and we felt that their accomplishments might have to be soft-pedaled. We didn't want Craig to feel inferior. Actually, we needn't have worried. Although Craig didn't speak well, his manual dexterity surpassed that of his sister two years his senior. His mechanical ability gives him an understanding of things he finds difficult despite scholastic ability. Five months after Craig started school, our hopes were shattered. School authorities had tested him and reported that he had the mental ability of a three-year old. We would have to take him out of school.
Through our minister we contacted a psychologist connected with the local mental hygiene clinic. Craig was tested again under what we thought were more favorable conditions. He tested three and a half years old. Again we were disheartened.
He Hid from Friends
Nevertheless, we felt it was bad for Craig to be out of school. He asked many times when he could go back. One day his homebound schoolmates called to him as Craig and I passed in the car. He slid down on the seat and refused to get out until they had passed.
After three weeks at home and several conferences with the psychologist and school principal, he was finally readmitted to school. School authorities were wonderful to us. They did their jobs well acting on the information they had. But Craig's school record was marked, "Mentally Retarded."
We hoped that someday he would prove this to be wrong, and we felt we had reason to believe it to be wrong. We realized he would need more help and encouragement from us. We began taking turns reading to him and talking to him. We tried to draw him out, make him express himself. It became a family project. The children were probably more successful in this than we were.
Aside from the pediatrician and our own family doctor, we were able to find another whose opinion was valuable to us-the speech therapist of our school board. He told us that he had known of many children with an Rh negative condition similar to Craig's. He gave us a torch of hope by saying that most of these children caught up with their classmates when they were around ten years old. He advised us that Craig was not yet ready for speech therapy,.
They Didn't Push Him
Craig stayed in kindergarten for a second year. We realized, along with the school authorities, that he wasn't ready for the first grade. We felt he would be happier if he wasn't pushed beyond his ability, and we think this has been true. A year later we took him back for another speech evaluation. He was ready for class therapy but there was no class open. Although kindergarten had helped Craig, we were advised to read aloud and help him with certain sounds by repeating rhymes. For example, "Old King Cole" was suggested for the K sound.
Craig's sisters have been willing helpers in reading to him and this helped their own reading. He loves to sing and picks up new tunes readily, although he doesn't get all of the words. Playing school is always a favorite game at our house.
He is now seven years old and in the first grade. It is difficult for him, and he requires a great deal of help and encouragement. A retired schoolteacher is tutoring Craig for a half hour twice a week. She has helped him with reading readiness and counting and reading. Another teacher furnished us with up-to-date material that has been invaluable. He could not get this individual help to the extent he needed it in a crowded classroom.
We do not believe this is pushing Craig because these are things he wants to do. Without pushing, he has finally of his own volition reached the point where he wants to learn and is ready to learn. He reads to us almost every evening, bringing his books to whomever is unoccupied. The thrill comes when he identifies words on labels, billboards, and advertisements.
Children his own age are beginning to play with him, for he is losing his babyish ways. He is adept at manual skills and is rapidly learning to play ball - to the delighted shrieks of his sisters, who take pride in all his accomplishments. It was the steadying hands of his sisters that helped him learn to ride his new bicycle.
Above all, Craig is a happy child and is being accepted by other children in spite of his speech handicap. He is accepted in part because his own sisters have accepted him, and have never rejected him because of his retarded speech. Earlier this year he received tests to determine whether he needed a slow-learning class. We could have shouted when we heard what we had believed all along—he showed an average intelligence.
He has not been in a slow-learning class, although he is among the slowest in his classroom. In a conference with the principal, the psychologist, and the speech therapist, I learned that he needed to be in a group with which he could compete. In a slow-learning class he would lose that incentive. We have been grateful for the co-operation of those who have shown a sincere interest in Craig's problems.
It isn't always possible to find a happy ending when you live with a handicapped child. Nevertheless, we feel that we have, and while our son hasn't completely conquered his handicap we are sure that he will eventually. There must be many children like Craig, and although their problems may not need the same approach as his, perhaps our experience can be of help.
He Can Get Along
It isn't necessary that the Craigs of this world become huge successes, but it is necessary that they get along with others. That is what we are aiming for and feel sure we will attain. It may be difficult, but it will be well worth the effort. One thing must be added: this kind of therapy must be a family effort and a concerted one. It is necessary to have the co-operation of everyone, including the other children, in order to accomplish anything. This we obtained by making them a part of all we attempted. The others were never left out by overattention to Craig.
We want the scar on Craig's ankle left by the transfusions to be the only reminder of his handicap. He is going to continue to need encouragement and love and confidence in himself, and these are things which only his family can supply. Surprisingly, it can knit a family group closer together, for a handicap can become the instrument of closer family spirit. Sometimes we wonder whether we are not learning more from Craig than he is from us.
Ah, Amy, you come by this writing thing from within and without, I see. What a great window into your families life! Tom Petty had it right....the waiting....is the hardest part. One of Malcolm Gladwells books (Outliers?) discusses how the way we group kids into basically 2 age groups as we push them through school, and this causes the kids who are a bit smaller or developing more slowly to get pushed out of sports and high achievement by the kids are are just a bit bigger and better developed. One solution he presented would be to divide school age kids into say 4 groups per year, instead of 2, and we would reap many benefits as a society. Power to your grandparents for giving your dad Craig an extra year of kindergarden as well, it makes no sense to push a kid through school at the early end. I was sent off a year early for the convenience of the system and my working mother, and was forever a bit 'behind' developmentally in school, esp. emotionally. Like a game being played I could not yet fathom. We push push push and wonder why kids reach a breaking / failure point. But then, the schools weren't really developed for the kids....but thats another story, eh?