More action on autism epidemic needed

In tomorrow's Briefing:

Kim Stagliano is the kind of mom who makes me appreciate the parenting struggles I face.

My challenges are fairly typical — guiding two children to make good choices, develop a love for learning, treat others with kindness and compassion, respect authority, avoid danger, stay healthy.

Stagliano has those same challenges with her three daughters plus layer upon layer of additional struggles. All three girls are on the autism spectrum, each with moderate to severe autism.

“They were not touched with the brush,” she said. “They got a full painting.”

Stagliano, her husband and their girls — ages 17, 16 and 12 — live in Connecticut. She is the managing editor of the website Age of Autism (ageofautism.com) and author of the novel House of Cards and the memoir All I Can Handle.

She was in Dallas this week to speak at Metrocare’s Meal for the Minds luncheon and spoke with me by phone. Here are excerpts from our visit:

At what age were your girls diagnosed? Mia and Gianna were diagnosed on the same day in November 1999. I don’t recommend that. They were 4 and 3. You usually get started with intervention before formal diagnosis. But it’s still no fun. It’s still a dreadful day. It’s just a searing agony when you watch your children suffer.

When did you realize Bella was on spectrum? She was a different child than her sisters. Bella was completely different physically. Her structural development was off. The very first person who came for intervention said it looked like cerebral palsy. She’s cut from a very different cloth than her sisters.

What are some coping skills that you use to help you through each day? I think staying connected with friends and family is important, but so is being able to let go of the friends and family who cannot and will not grow in this new direction with your family.

I have found new friends. Our children have this common diagnosis. It gives us a bond. Autism is a very lonely diagnosis. It’s important to find a group where you can fit in and find comfort and learn and grow.

How can friends help families who live with autism? Let Mom or Dad tell you their fears, hold their hand. Give them a Starbucks card. Try to support them the way you would if a child had been diagnosed with leukemia.

Try to envelope Mom and Dad with love. It’s lonely and it’s frightening. Give love and kindness and reach out and just say, “I’m sorry for what you’re going through. I wish I could make this easier for you.” That’s worth a million dollars. Just be a friend.

There’s no known cause for autism, nor a known cure. How does this fuel dissension among parents of children with autism? I do think there should be a cure for autism. I simply want my girls to live a healthy, safe, independent life. I adore my kids the way they are, but every American parent wants more for their child.

When you peel back the layers of the controversies of autism, we are a community. I try very hard not to disparage the other side who say there is no cure, that you don’t need a cure. We need each other.

When it comes time for adulthood, it’s not going to matter what Mom and Dad think. It’s about the kids. It’s about giving them the best, safest life possible.

What do you want to hear from the presidential candidates? If I were to sit down with a candidate tomorrow, they would nod and smile and pat me on the head and move on. I’m thinking to Jan. 23, Inauguration Day. What do we do next?

We have not acknowledged the autism epidemic in any fashion in America. We’ve acknowledged increasing numbers. We have not acknowledged an epidemic that is changing families.

There is a decided lack of action and sense of urgency regarding the autism epidemic. This is as much an epidemic as cancer, as Alzheimer’s, taking 1 in 55 boys and altering their lives — taking them out of the game to some degree. That will have ramifications on tax bases, social safety net, workforce, our volunteer base.

There are raging numbers that show no sign of going down. They’re only going up. I’m hoping for real urgency. Awareness without action is nothing.

Tyra Damm is a Briefing columnist. Email her at tyradamm@gmail.com.

Before church this (rainy) morning

Middle school events bring back old anxieties

From today's Briefing:

If you happen to be holding on to any middle school anxiety, it just might creep back when your own child reaches that level.

Take, for example, lockers.

A week before the first bell, our middle school invited incoming sixth-graders and their parents to pick up schedules, walk to classes and practice opening lockers.

What I learned that morning: There have been no discernible technological advances in lockers or combination locks for decades.

You still spin the lock to the right twice, then to the left a full turn, then back to the right again. And you still hold your breath as you simultaneously lift and wiggle the latch on the locker, silently praying that you got the numbers just right and that the door will open.

Or perhaps you’re still harboring some bus worries. From what I can tell, that situation hasn’t advanced much, either.

During the first week, when exact ridership was still in flux, Cooper’s bus was packed. On the first afternoon ride home, Cooper reported that he was squished against the window, penned in by two older and bigger kids.

On the second afternoon, there were three kids in every seat and some standing in the aisle. Another bus was dispatched, and crowding was relieved.

Now his route has been broken into two. The mass is more manageable.

Just as I remember, the rowdier kids sit in back. And the bus driver hollers if he hears unacceptably salty language.

For the full-on, face-your-fears middle school experience, though, nothing beats meet-the-teacher night.

Tuesday night, a whole bunch of parents crowded into the cafeteria, looking for the correct line to pick up schedules. Then we stood in cliquish clumps, waiting for instructions from the principal and a bell to send us scurrying to find first-period classes.

Would we know anyone else in the class? Would we have time to visit before the teacher began talking? Should we take notes? Dare we ask questions?

And then the bell would ring again, and we’d have three minutes to find the next room.

In one room, the teacher kept talking after the end-of-class bell. I resisted the urge to stand up, concerned that he’d scowl and grumble, “The bell doesn’t dismiss you. I dismiss you.”

Then I remembered that I’m 40 and that these teachers are human. I even convinced myself that there’s nothing to fear about the sixth grade.

That confidence lasted until fourth period, when the science teacher addressed other parents’ concerns about the previous night’s homework. Heck, I didn’t even know there was homework yet. What else was I missing?

I started taking notes more diligently. Major assignments make up 50 percent of a six-weeks grade, minor assignments 30 percent, daily work 20 percent.

If you turn in daily work a day late, the highest grade possible is a 70. Two days late? Nothing higher than a 50.

One teacher told us to take time to look at binders, in backpacks, even in lockers. To stress organizational skills and time management.

“Everything is coming at them fast and furious,” she said. No kidding, I thought, as my fingers barely kept pace with her rapid-fire advice.

“Tell them it’s OK to come in for tutorials,” she said. “Tell them to pay attention in class.”

Then the bell rang, and we scrambled out of desks and into the hall, searching for the next room. After eight abbreviated class periods, we were dismissed.

I stopped by Cooper’s locker. I braced myself for a tumble of papers and notebooks as I tentatively worked the combination lock.

Right-left-right. Lift and wiggle. Success! The door opened, revealing a library book and two binders, neatly standing on end.

I wrote Cooper a quick note, left it on his locker shelf, then gently closed the door. I’d like to imagine that I was also closing the door on any lingering middle school fears.

Not likely. My old worries have taken on a whole new life — two, actually. But that’s just part of the bittersweet job description of parent.

Tyra Damm is a Briefing columnist. Email her at tyradamm@gmail.com.

Lowly

I've been fighting a sinus infection and severely sore throat (seriously, it's on fire) for a few days.

It's the kind of short-term malady that might make me feel sorry for myself except for all the good that surrounds our family.

Here was our Sunday schedule:

• Leave the house at 7:45 a.m. to pick up donuts (for Cooper's confirmation class) on the way to church
• Get to church by 8:30 for early service, during which Cooper was the offertory speaker
• Teach junior high Sunday school until 10:45
• Eat lunch at 11
• Grocery shop at Sprouts at 11:45
• Cooper back to church for 12:15 piano lesson
• Home by 1:20
• Cooper to Scouts from 3 to 4:30
• Cooper to 5:15 soccer game

See that little window from 1:20 to 3? That was my best shot to be seen by a doctor for increasingly severe head, ear and throat pain.

So I texted Katrina, to check on the patient load at Legacy ER. (She and Jay are co-owners of Legacy, and he is one of the doctors there.)

She reported that it had been a busy morning and to check back with her when I was on the way. I texted at 1:40 to say we were on the way; she replied that the timing was good.

I checked in by 1:48. By 2:03 I had already been giving a steroid/antibiotic shot, and we were gone by 2:10, giving me ample time to drop off a prescription for more antibiotics and get Cooper to Scouts early.

On the way home from soccer, we stopped by Julianne's house, who had picked up Babe's for us for dinner. I had planned to cook, but she intervened. Good thing. By the time we were home from soccer, I was spent.

I somehow managed to oversee showers and brushing of teeth and finished a freelance assignment before falling into bed.

When I woke Katie at 6:30 this morning, she opened her eyes and spoke the sweetest words: "How are you feeling?"

I thought well enough for work (and I had already missed Friday because it was Sept. 7, my least favorite day of the year). I was wrong.

After making sure Cooper was ready for middle school and getting Katie to Bledsoe, I drove to work. Berta came in a few minutes after I did, listened to my scary, raspy voice and sent me home.

I slept off and one for four hours before taking on the afternoon craziness that is our lives. And I left Katie's hip-hop dance class with dinner, again courtesy of Julianne.

In a few minutes, both Cooper and Katie will be in bed, fast asleep. I'm not far behind. I'm praying that I feel much better tomorrow. And I'm giving thanks to God for the kind people all around me who make life easier.

After church this morning

Help your kids cope when school gets a little stressful

From today's Briefing:

It’s barely two weeks into the new school year and we’re dealing with some major stress.

Well, “major” is relative. If you ask Katie, we’re talking big-time tension.

“When it’s time for writing,” she says, “it sometimes feels like my body is going to explode.”

I’m working on pinpointing exactly what makes her so nervous about second-grade writing assignments. And I’m working with her to understand how to recognize symptoms of stress and healthy ways to alleviate it.

When Katie was younger, her default reaction to stress was tears. Maturity and maybe a little peer pressure have dried up most of those crying jags. But she still finds herself in stressful situations, and that emotion has to go somewhere.

Lately, it seems to go straight to her belly. The absence of any other symptoms and the timing of her stomachaches convince me that part of the problem is that she keeps her stress inside, rather than letting it out.

We’ve been practicing strategies to relieve her stress. Her favorite so far: Before a stressful assignment, pull out a piece of paper and scribble out the worries.

I might be an expert on my own child, but I’m no psychology expert. So I checked in with Dr. Peter Stavinoha, director of neuropsychology services at Children’s Medical Center Dallas, for some general advice on stress in elementary-age children. Here are excerpts from our email discussion.

What are some typical stress triggers for elementary-age children?

New situations

Unfamiliar or unpredictable situations

Fear of failure or embarrassment

Big changes, like starting a brand-new school, or transitioning from elementary to middle school

Unreasonably high expectations

Which physical and emotional signs of stress should parents watch for?

Sleep changes

Irritability

Fearfulness or nervousness

Avoidance of certain activities

Sleep problems

Minor physical complaints

What roles do diet, exercise and adequate sleep play in how a child can deal with typical stress factors? 

We know that proper diet, adequate exercise and ample sleep can help reduce stress. However, when we are feeling very stressed, we often do not adhere to these good habits — kids and adults alike. Poor eating, lack of exercise and inadequate sleep can all contribute to a person being more vulnerable to stress.

What are some techniques that parents can share with their children to alleviate stress? 

Maintaining regular diet, sleep and exercise habits is a good start. Parents want to maintain a sense of normalcy for their child: Keep things as predictable and routine as possible.

Parents also need to check their own expectations for their child to be sure the parent is not inadvertently contributing to the child’s feelings of stress. Talking through stressful situations can help demystify what might seem unknown or unfamiliar to the child.

Parents can even practice talking through a situation that the child might face. Specific relaxation methods might include things that many people find relaxing — listening to soft music; spending focused time with mom or dad; exercises including taking a walk, bike ride, or even yoga; deep breathing exercises; and muscle relaxation methods.

Visualization is another technique sometimes used — basically having the child imagine herself in her favorite place and having the child describe all the inviting, comforting and beautiful things she “sees.”

Simply trying to rationalize with your child that their stress is unwarranted is probably not going to get very far. Parents should acknowledge the child’s stress/uncertainty and provide reassurance and even practice.

At what point should a parent seek outside help for a child’s stress? 

If stress does not subside relatively quickly or becomes so strong that it prevents the child from joining activities that most kids are able to cope with, then parents may wish to seek out help.

Tyra Damm is a Briefing columnist. Email her at tyradamm@gmail.com.

We've reached a new frontier: middle school

From today's Briefing:

My children are split between two campuses for the first time.

Katie has started the second grade at our neighborhood elementary school while Cooper has ventured into middle school territory.

I know exactly what to do on the first day of elementary school. We take photos on the front porch, walk a third of a mile to campus, say hello to friends along the way, walk through the front doors of school together, hug a few friends in the halls, take a photo at the classroom door, find a seat, take a photo at the desk.

All around me are parents repeating the same kinds of cheerful phrases, variations on “Have a good day!” and “You’ll be great!” and “See you this afternoon!”

The first day of middle school routine is new territory, though.

One non-negotiable: photos on the front porch. Cooper complied, taking his place in front of the bushes, on the front step, in front of the door. Some with his sister, some without.

His new school is too far for walking; most days he’ll take the bus. But on this first day I wanted to see him actually walk into the building (from afar, of course — moms don’t walk sixth-grade boys into middle school). So we drove — me, Cooper and his Uncle Jim, who never misses the first day of school.

On the way, I asked Cooper how nervous he was on a scale of 1 to 10, with 10 being the most worried. He placed himself at a 6.

So I asked him to list his concerns, and one by one we talked through possible solutions. My goal was to coax him to a 5, maybe 4. We were getting close.

Then traffic came to a stop. Lots of other parents had the same first-day-of-school drop-off plan; cars were piled up. Excellent! I was in no rush to push my 5-foot-4 baby out of the minivan.

I casually mentioned to Uncle Jim that backpacks aren’t allowed in the hallways and classes; they have to be stored in lockers.

Cooper asked why.

“Oh, you know, because of drugs and weapons,” I said with levity usually reserved for “cake and ice cream” or “rainbows and unicorns.”

Cooper wanted to know more. Would there really be drugs and weapons at his new school? That giant building we were inching toward?

This is the moment that my usual, trusty mom filter would have come into play. Not today, though. Nope, my thinking-mom filter was gone, perhaps pushed aside by a little bit of anxiety about the next three years and, more specifically, the next seven hours of middle school.

“Well, I don’t know, Cooper, but let me tell you about a young woman I just met.”

I proceeded to tell him about a ninth-grader who is a recovering drug user, who spent part of middle school smoking pot.

“What’s pot?”

Then I explain that it’s a nickname for marijuana; then I have to explain what that is, too. In my head, I was thinking, “You are about to deliver your firstborn child to middle school and your parting words are going to be about pot. You must turn this conversation around!”

Cooper was too far into the topic to be deterred.

“What if someone offers me drugs today?”

I regained some confidence: “No one is going to offer you drugs on the first day of sixth grade. But if they do, say ‘No’ and walk away.”

End of conversation? Hardly.

“But, shouldn’t I tell the police or the principal or someone?”

I was getting desperate. We were nearing the front doors.

“No. If — and this is extremely unlikely — you are offered drugs today, say ‘No’ and walk away. We can talk about more strategies later.”

I took a breath. There was a bit of silence. Then I launched into my more typical first-day-of-school litany.

“You’re going to have a great day, Cooper! I’m so proud of you! Do you know your bus number? I can’t wait to see you when you get home!”

Then I stopped the car directly in front of the main entrance and pushed a button to open the side door.

My freckle-faced son smiled, said goodbye and unfolded his lanky limbs from the backseat and out onto the sidewalk. He walked by a crowd of even taller kids and through the front doors. He never looked back.

There are no photos of him walking in, but it’s an image I’ll never forget.

Tyra Damm is a Briefing columnist. Email her at tyradamm@gmail.com.

Second grade, sixth grade

For the first time since Cooper started kindergarten, he is not wearing a collared shirt on the first day of school. I gave him a choice, and he chose a T-shirt, and I didn't argue. See what a fun mom I am?!

Katie declared at breakfast this morning: "I have a feeling this is going to be the most exciting year yet."

Katie begins her third year at Bledsoe. Cooper begins his first year at Pioneer Heritage Middle School. They won't share a campus again, unless Cooper agrees to Katie's big plan: He must attend graduate school at the same university she chooses for her undergraduate degree. 

My children have learned to humor my photo traditions, including endless poses in the front yard.

Uncle Jim flew in from Washington, D.C., for back-to-school weekend. He arrived at our house (in a vintage Bledsoe shirt) from Dallas at 6:30 a.m., with breakfast treats from Grandma and Papa. 

Katie, me and Cooper just before Uncle Jim and I walked Katie to Bledsoe (start time 7:50 a.m.)
Cooper stayed behind, waiting for me to drive him to Pioneer (start time 8:25 a.m.).

There is no better principal than Beverly Woodson. 

Mrs. Barnes, Katie and Noe pose before getting down to serious second-grade business. (In the background is my good friend Kristin, whose son, Will, is in Katie's class for the third year in a row. He's the kindest second-grade boy around.) 

Katie was eager to get started on her work. (There are no photos of Cooper at Pioneer. I dropped him off at the front door but didn't get out of the minivan. That would have been "the kiss of death," according to Liz Smith.)

Stay tuned for this week's Briefing column, 
in which I describe my terrible parenting decision en route to Pioneer!

Second grade

For the first time since 2006, Cooper did not go to Meet-the-Teacher Night at Bledsoe -- not only because he's no longer a student there but also because he was on his way to Athens, Texas, for a weekend of Boy Scout camping.

(I think it's obvious that moms have no say in scheduling camping weekends.)

We said goodbye to Cooper for the weekend at the Eggert house. Brian was kind enough to drive Cooper to First UMC Frisco, where the camp caravan begins.

Because I needed to work the membership table during the hour of Meet-the-Teacher, Katie and I were able to go to her classroom 30 minutes early.

Katie unpacked school supplies and then had plenty of time for reading while I was volunteering.

Katie's teacher is Wendy Barnes, a wonderful teacher and mom who I've known for years. Her daughter, Maddie, has even been our baby-sitter a few times.

Mrs. Barnes and Katie

The whole second grade is disproportionately filled with boys -- just as kindergarten and first grade were. For the third year in a row, Katie is in a class with very few girls -- only 6, with 14 boys. And the class has 9 gifted-and-talented kids. Wendy is going to have her hands full.

Katie is thrilled to have so many good friends in her class, including friend-since-birth Noe and her favorite friend who is a boy, Will C.

For now Mrs. Barnes has placed all the girl at one table.

Turning education on its head

From today's Briefing:

I didn’t sleep much during most of high school.

After spending all day at school, I’d often stay a little longer for one club or another. Then I’d go home or to the public library to read, research, write essays, complete assignments and study, with a fair amount of teenage messing around mixed in.

Some of the homework would keep me up late into the night. If a geometry proof or chemistry equation stumped me, I would review notes, reread books and maybe call a friend for help. (These were pre-cellphone days, and not everyone had call waiting or an answering machine. Getting a friend on the phone at the exact time of need was unpredictable.)

After toiling into the night, I’d sleep a little and start all over again in the morning.

I would have benefited from flipped classrooms, a movement gaining popularity 25 years too late for me but in time for a generation desperate for more effective education.

The basic idea of a flipped classroom: For homework, students watch a taped lecture provided by the classroom teacher. During class time, the teacher answers questions about the lecture then offers individualized assistance on assignments or facilitates in-depth discussions and activities.

One of the early adopters and gurus of the movement is Jonathan Bergmann, a 26-year educator, longtime chemistry teacher and co-author of the book Flip Your Classroom: Reach Every Student in Every Class Every Day. We visited last week while he was on the road after a teacher workshop.

“The question I ask teachers is this: What’s the best use of your face-to-face class time?” Bergmann said. “I would argue that that is no longer a teacher standing in front of 30 kids to disseminate a concept.”

Instead, those 30 kids should be able to watch the lecture on their own time, at their own speed (pause and rewind as often as necessary). Then there’s time for application in the classroom.

“The flipped classroom is about the active, engaged stuff you can do in the classroom,” he said. “It’s the interaction between the student and teacher. There’s more time for discussion.”

And more time for hands-on activities. For example, a nutrition teacher can prepare a video on how to make a fruit smoothie. That video is watched at home or in a library — on the computer, on an iPod, on a DVD player — freeing classroom time for actual hands-on cooking. Or a P.E. teacher can cover the rules of a game in a video lecture, freeing the period for actual playing.

In Bergmann’s case, he and his co-teacher, Aaron Sams, were able to free valuable class time for chemistry problems and laboratory experiments. Not only that, he was able to reach individual needs.

“Do you teach to the top kids? Then you lose the bottom kids,” he said. “Teach to the bottom kids? You lose the top kids. For the first 17 years, I taught to the middle.”

After flipping, Bergmann said, his students moved through content at individualized paces. A student has to prove mastery of a unit before moving to the next one. That happens at different speeds for different kids.

Critics of the flipped classroom model often cite socioeconomic barriers, but Bergmann says economics don’t have to be a factor.

“People think kids who are poor can’t do this because of lack of access,” he said. “We can solve that.”

If a child has a computer but no Internet access, offer a flash drive. If they don’t have a computer but have an iPhone or iPod, download lectures to those devices. If they don’t have any kind of handheld technology, burn DVDs and let them watch on televisions. Or keep computer labs open after hours.

“It is a big issue, but it can be solved. The teacher, the school has to be creative in solving access issues,” Bergmann said.

He readily acknowledges that flipped classrooms aren’t the only answer to improving education. But it is an answer.

Teachers who have flipped report fewer discipline issues because kids are more actively engaged. Flip Your Classroom is filled with testimony from teachers who say they have more time to reach struggling students, to help advanced students learn more, to mentor and to coach.

One teacher writes, “I don’t have to go to school and perform five times a day. Instead, I spend my days interacting with and helping my students.”

Bergmann and Sams are in high demand these days, traveling across the country to share their experiences. Bergmann has been in the Dallas area four times this year to conduct training for area districts.

Together they founded the nonprofit Flipped Learning Network (flippedlearning.org) in an effort to teach teachers how to flip. “Things have to change in education,” Bergmann said. “Schools are going to have to adapt.”

Tyra Damm is a Briefing columnist. Email her at tyradamm@gmail.com.