3 posts tagged “bronx”

Beyond Salomé and the kids' birthdays and our wedding anniversary, I'm not very good at remembering specific dates, but 5/3/2005 will always be a memorable one because that's the day India was diagnosed with autism*. "Pervasive Developmental Disorder-Not Otherwise Specified" (PDD-NOS), to be specific, the catch-all term for a laundry list of autism-related and autism-like disorders that, I think, is part of the reason for the recent explosion in autism diagnoses over the past 10 years or so.

It's been a long two years for us since the, full of emotional highs and lows, but overall, she's come a long way thanks to early intervention and the educational services she's received, and as important as anything else, Isaac, the most patient and caring brother I've ever seen or heard of in my life. He's been a brother, a friend and a teacher/mentor to her and I honestly don't think she'd have progressed half as far or as fast as she has if not for him.

This morning we had our meeting to hear what the Committee for Special Education had recommended for her for this fall as she's aging out of pre-K and into Kindergarten, and we make the move from a relatively supportive system that attempts to help as many kids as possible, to one that nickels and dimes kids and narrowly categorizes them, leaving way too many to fall between the cracks. According to her evaluation, she's within the “non autistic range of functioning” (CARS: Childhood Autism Rating Scale), but "A general education program without related services would not address India’s needs at this time." and "A special class in a community school is too restrictive at this time."

Cracks, meet India.

The good news is that she's no longer considered autistic, and honestly, I never thought she was but the diagnosis meant she got the services she probably wouldn't have otherwise if she'd simply been thought to have the speech impairment she's now labeled with. The bad news, though, is that the autistic label was the only thing that would keep her out of the general education setting they initially recommended, and allow her to go into a program more suitable to her special needs. That's the problem with standardized scores of any type, is that they're very black-and-white, and in this case, her CARS score overshadowed all of the specifics in the two evaluation reports in her file that are pretty explicit about her having special needs.

"A general education program without related services would not address India’s needs at this time."

I mean, it's right there in the report, and yet they were still recommending general ed! We argued against it and got them to change the recommendation to say that her needs can be met by a general education teacher AND a special education teacher, together, and after some discussion of our options, it's pretty clear that we're not going to find what she needs within the public school system. That means a possible court fight to get them to pay for a non-public school setting, which is exactly what we were prepared for, and even without the autism label, we have a pretty good shot at getting what we want. It helps that Salomé is a teacher now and knows the system, which should cut through the first layer of bullshit they typically throw at parents.

What started out as a rather anxious morning turned into a pleasant afternoon as we investigated one of our options -- a promising one that's actually within the public school system, and in the Bronx, but is relatively brand new and funded by NYU -- and then spent an hour walking around Arthur Avenue, the Bronx' Little Italy, talking through everything and, consciously or not, decompressing. I ate a half-dozen raw oysters at a "raw bar" counter that was set up outside one of the seafood shops (one of two doing so), and we stopped at a bakery for dessert and one of the strongest double espressos I've ever had. It's a nice little neighborhood with what looks like some good restaurants that we plan to go back and check out one of these days.

All in all, a rather big day for us in the grand scheme of things, as it represents a positive half-step forward towards figuring our plan for the next few years.

* "With autism" vs. "as autistic", as my opinion has changed greatly over these past two years. I used to think the diagnosis defined the patient, but have come to understand that it is simply one aspect of who they are. No one is "a cancer", they "have" cancer.

Isaac at the Bat

Yesterday was the Pee Wee Marlins' first game -- Isaac's first experience with organized sports, and my first time coaching an organized team in something non-poetry related. 15 kids (one didn't show up), all 5 and 6-year olds, most of whom were playing tee ball for the first time.

It was a little bit herding cats, a little bit America's Funniest Home Videos, and a whole lot of fun.

We had the first slot in the morning schedule, an 8:30am game on a brisk morning that had a few of the kids keeping their coats on while playing. Most of them got there on time, and I was there before the other team's coach, so we started practice with batting and running to first base, a concept not nearly as simple as it might seem. They all got the hang of it pretty quickly, though, and it's the one aspect of the game everyone gets to partake in as each inning involves the full lineup getting a turn at bat, with the last kid running the bases all the way around to clear the way for changing sides. It's a pretty ingenious way to teach the offensive mechanics without an emphasis on the competition, especially in the first inning or two where the fielding isn't up to par, so many of the kids move from base to base and ultimately score.

You don't realize how complex a game baseball can be, though, until you try to explain the fundamentals of a fielding a ground ball to a 5-year old.

A batted ball is like candy falling from a pinata, as they would all instinctively run towards it -- all 14 of them, not counting the first baseman, as in Tee Ball, everybody plays the field at once! -- scrambling to be the first one to get it, and if not that, than to be the one to snatch it away so they could be the one to throw it to first base. If, of course, in all the excitement, they remembered which direction first base was in...

And sometimes the excitement of simply fielding it successfully would be enough that they'd forget to throw it to first base at all. :-)

By the third (last) inning, we were gouging lines into the dirt to indicate their set positions and instructing them not to move unless the ball came near them. "You're a team. Let your teammate get the ball if it comes to him or her."  Once that set in, it became a little less comical and you could see which kids had some natural talent for the game, among them, one of the ones I'd "scouted" on the first day when teams were being drafted, a 6-year old girl who scooped up everything that came her way and by the third inning had properly gauged the distance to first base and threw 3 or 4 kids out.

Probably no coincidence that her aunt volunteered to be one of my assistant coaches, all three of whom (including Dan, who Salomé volunteered!) were invaluable in keeping things flowing smoothly throughout the game.

Isaac had a great time playing, and while he didn't get any action on the field -- we shuffle the kids around every inning, but most of the hits are dribblers to the first line of defense -- he enjoyed batting and running the bases.  He's hit before, but never with an aluminum bat nor as heavy a ball, but he's got the basic swing mechanics down pretty well.  I explained to him that fielding is an important part of playing baseball, DH be damned, and that he has to practice that, too, if he wants to be a baseball player, which became appealing to him when he realized last week that it wasn't just a game:

Isaac: "But where do they [baseball players] work when they're not playing?"

Me: "Baseball is their work. That's what they do."

Isaac: "Oh! I want to be a baseball player then!"

While we were on offense, I felt like I was back on stage at 13, announcing each batter and imploring the team and assembled parents to applaud.  At least twice I had to do the old, "You parents are starting to slip a little bit. Where's the noise?  Give it up for the Marlins!"  It was a little surreal -- particularly rooting on the Marlins as opposed to the Mets! -- but very, very fun.  I hadn't noticed, but Salomé said the other team wasn't doing anything similar to hype their kids or parents up.

My Coach Hat

Speaking of the parents, there doesn't seem to be a stereotypical "Little League Mom" or "Dad" in the bunch; just a group of parents really excited about their kids playing Tee Ball who are willing to get up early on a Saturday morning for them to have the opportunity. For all the years I've lived in the Bronx and proclaimed it as my own, I've never felt quite as connected to the borough as I do right now.

It's rewarding in a special way that only working with kids can be, and honestly, as willing as I am to move to New Jersey next year when we're ready to buy a house, there's a part of me that would rather figure out a way to make it work here in the Bronx because I could see myself doing this for a long time. Doing it in Jersey would be fun, too, I'm sure, but it wouldn't compare. Not even close.

Ladies and Gentlemen, The Bronx Is Burning: 1977, Baseball, Politics, and the Battle for the Soul of

Jonathan Mahler

As its back cover states, Ladies and Gentlemen, the Bronx Is Burning is literally "a kaleidoscopic portrait of New York City in 1977," as Jonathan Mahler ambitiously weaves together New York City's major stories of that surprisingly pivotal year -- the Yankees turmoil-filled championship season; the divisive mayoral race; the illuminating blackout; and the "Son of Sam" killer; among several other low-profile but similarly influential events -- into a dizzying collage that is ever-so-slightly less than the sum of its parts. The flaw is not in his writing, which is crisp and insightful, but in the discordant structuring of his story's numerous threads, and the often awkward or completely non-existent segues between them.

Mahler acknowledges in the introduction that the City simply refused to remain in the background of what was intended to be a tale of the Yankees incredible, raucous run to the Championship, and as a result, his fractured account of the year ends on a bit of an anti-climactic note. Nevertheless, the joy is in the journey and he takes the scenic route, offering an impressive overview of a landmark year in the life of the City that never sleeps that came precariously close putting it down for the count.

Being the same age as Mahler, and having lived ten blocks northeast of Yankee Stadium during the period covered, his tale is an enthralling mix of nostalgic flashbacks, unlocked memories and revelatory clarifications from my own childhood. Highly recommended!