The Ark of Truth

If the title doesn't ring a bell, don't worry about spoilers herein.

If it does...well, there really aren't any.  Well, I guess there could be if you remember my 'shipping preferences and have a really good ear for quotes.

Maybe.

It's very, very wrong that my first thought was, "hey, that scar's gonna be on the wrong side!"

It's even more wrong that macaroons make me squee.

It's even more wrong that the words "cheek okay?" are romantic.

Ahem.

Squee!

(And, yes, I watched the end first.  After reading about special effects and certain people getting to be blown up, I had to make sure those certain people survived.  So...maybe there's more squeeing.)

When the OTs Need an IEP Goal

So, I'm typing up the stuff for Mr. Voice's 30 day IEP. I'm freaked, but at least his IEP will not now be a gigantic block of contradictory and unreable text.

Anyway, I'm typing up one of his goals. The annual goal is to do something 3/5 attempts.

For the record, 3/5 = 60%.

The last objective is to do something 3/4 attempts.

For the record, the last objective should be completed before the goal is due.

Also for the record, 3/4 = 75%.

So, Mr. Voice is supposed to exceed the goal before meeting it.

Yeah.

Also, and totally unrelated, I've gone through at least a box of Kleenex since Friday. Don't know what I'm so allergic to right now, but I haven't had an allergy attack this bad in nearly 5 years. I even had to buy Primatene tablets. Blech.

Headdesk...

...which is Internet slang, of course, for, "D'oh!"

So, I'm reading this perfectly lovely piece of smushy fluff (yeah, yeah), by this mostly literate author (I can't read any other kind anymore; in my early days online, I read everything, but now...), and...I....

"Blah blah blah, then all visages of sleep left."

NO.  No, no, no, no-ity, no!

Visage = appearance (his ancient visage = his old face).

Vestige = stuff left over (vestigial organs = organs that are left over that used to be important and aren't anymore).

You meant "vestiges of sleep."

As on, all little itty bits and pieces of sleepiness went away.

Threw me right out of the moment, it did.

The Question

Since before your sun burned hot in space, and before your race was born, I have awaited a question. -- The Guardian of Forever

Maybe the Guardian could solve this dilemma for me. Which event to try and summarize in a single sentence (my favorite of this year is summing Stalin up with, "On blah blah blah, Russia's mean leader Josef Stalin died."):

• The Taiping Rebellion?
• The Treaty of Versailles?
• Legalized gambling in Nevada?
• Televised Academy Awards?
• Sarajevo reuniting?
• The start of the Iraq War (Version 2.0)?
• Or Mahmoud Abbas becoming Prime Mister of Palestine?

In a way, I prefer boring days. It's easier to summarize boring things like, "Montana became the xth state of the United States." But these? Eesh.

For the record, since I'm asking the kids to watch the news each week for election coverage anyway, I'll probably go with the Iraq War, but...well...geesh. Depressing much?

Edited to add: While procrastinating for this decision, I did a side to side comparison of a base Mac Pro and a high-end iMac, and the iMac is nearly $1000 cheaper, all told. However, once I upgrade the components up front that I would upgrade myself later on with the Mac Pro (memory and hard drive space), the price is nearly identical. C'mon, bank account....

(Also, my computer nerd mojo has deserted me. I just now realized that ETA = Edited to Add in blog-speak. I am shamed.)

It's Darwin!

(I guess Roy Scheider's recent death put SeaQuest on the brain.  Sorry, non-fannish folks.)

However, this shows two things:

1.  I knew I liked dolphins for a reason.

2.  Dolphins are way smarter than we give them credit for.

(To be fair, apparently so are monkeys.  Someone needs to invent that glove they had in Congo -- the only cool part of the movie, to my recollection (but I only saw it once in high school, so who knows) -- so the monkeys of the world can request all the green-drop-drinks (martinis) they want.)

(It is disturbing to me that that movie is 13 years old.)

(Almost as disturbing as it is that Patrick is turning 21 years old on Monday.)

Rigid Thinking

One fairly common aspect of many cognitive disabilities is what's called rigid thinking. That's kind of a black and white absolutist view.

For instance, for Patrick, Sunday is Subway day. This is his routine. You cannot have Subway at a different Subway, nor can you have Subway on a Saturday, because it's not just about having Subway. It's about having that Subway on that day.

Or, if someone says, "Take your medicine at 4:30," you might find someone who just doesn't take it if they notice that it's 4:33.

So, today, M had diarrhea twice in two hours. We called home. Both M's parents have cognitive disabilities. Her mom asked to talk to me.

"The doctor said that the medicine we give her for her constipation could cause diarrhea."

"Oh...she started a new medicine?"

"Yeah."

"Really? When did she start it? Because she hasn't done this at school before."

"November."

Oh.

See, M's doctor probably did say it could cause diarrhea. And in M's mom's rigid thinking, if she has diarrhea, that must be the cause.

Figuring that we were all well and truly contaminated no matter what happened, I decided to compromise.

"Well, I'm not sure that's it, since this has never happened before, and she's been on it so long."

"Oh."

"But, I'll tell you what -- I'll let her stay for right now, but if she has diarrhea one more time, I'll have to send her home, because this just isn't what we've seen with M before."

"Okay."

Lo and behold....

Tech Woes

I got behind last week, while I was fighting off the insidious illness that had me flat on my back from 3:30 Friday afternoon to about 10:00 last night.

That means that I've been making today what the kids will be doing for their journals tomorrow.  Homework just got printed (fortunately, between our field trip and two short weeks, I had an excuse to make it a 2-week homework assignment).

I haven't been running this close since probably 2 years ago.  Lately, "behind" has meant "madly printing out next week's stuff Thursday evening so I can get it ready on Friday."  It's been a long time since "behind" meant "making tomorrow's journals."

But anyway.

My poor dying computer froze twice to the point of the mouse cursor not moving for five minutes twice today.  There was a POST-code-like beep (except I thought those only happened at boot-up) each time.

But that's not my main tech woe, other than it made it take way too long to get everything printed (I broke my no-school-stuff-after-8:00 rule SO hard today).

My tech woe is this, and pardon the second CAPSLOCK OF RAGE in two days.

FOR THE LOVE OF THE LORDS OF KOBOL (cough! Battlestar Galactica season 4 coming soon! cough!), I DON'T CARE IF IT'S THE PRINTER, THE PRINTER DRIVER, WRITING WITH SYMBOLS OR SOME COMBINATION OF THE THREE, OH-MY-FRAKKING-GOD WOULD YOU PLEASE PRINT THINGS CORRECTLY?!

Ahem.

In English:  When Writing With Symbols doesn't like a printer, it prints the first two lines on a page over each other.  Some mystical combination of font size changes, additional lines, and other random things sometimes help.

In all seriousness, I am now carefully weighing the various costs involved in between an iMac and Mac Pro.

iMac plusses:

* cheaper

* one piece

* purrrrty

iMac minuses:

* I would need an external DVD drive to run Writing with Symbols and Boardmaker concurrently ($$)

* I would have to buy a USB hub to connect my external hard drives PLUS the DVD drive ($)

* 2 core

* I'd have to upgrade the memory ($$)

* I'd probably upgrade the hard drive at purchase, 'cause it's harder to upgrade

Mac Pro pluses

* 8 core standard

* easy to upgrade (memory and/or hard drive space), so I can do it later myself and not pay the Apple premium

* multiple DVD drives

Mac Pro minuses

* more expensive

* I'd have to buy a monitor

      ** well, I wouldn't have to, but my measly little 15 incher would look pretty sad

At some point, I'll have to sit and do the math.  It may be that once I upgrade the iMac to the specs I'd want, the equivalent Mac Pro would be more or less the same price.

Here's hoping Sparky Jr. can hold on.

Now, about the epidemic in my class.

In my first year of teaching, we had this horrible flu bug that made the rounds among kids and adults alike for nearly a month.  Despite judicious application of hand washing, Clorox wipes, hand sanitizer, etc., we just couldn't get rid of it until we had spring break and were gone for a week.

I suspect we've got that going on again.

Superhero was back today, but he wasn't here for more than an hour and a half before his fever spiked back up -- to about 102! -- and we sent him home.  Elastigirl was sick with M's stomach flu yesterday, was here for a while, then went to the doctor.  Sleeping Beauty coughed the whole way home yesterday and was gone today.  The Boss was grumpy, and I suspect she's getting it.

Oh, and Bulldozer and Mr. Voice were both warm, but not enough to show as a fever.

Yet.

Meanwhile, I'm mostly better.  I had to take a nap after school today and by 1:30 or so I was tuckered...but that was a lot better than making it to 8:15 yesterday!

Also? Memo to Safari

I love Safari.  I really do.

But I have to vent.

I love having an integrated RSS reader.  It makes keeping up with so many blogs really easy; plus, I don't have to have a separate program open to keep up with everything.

But.

(Pardon the CAPSLOCK OF RAGE.)

FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT'S GOOD AND HOLY, STOP REFRESHING OR CLEARING YOUR MEMORY OR WHATEVER THE FRELL IT IS YOU'RE DOING EVERY 20 MINUTES THAT MAKES ME HAVE TO DISPLAY ALL MY RSS FEEDS AGAIN JUST TO MAKE YOU REALIZE I'VE READ THE STUPID THINGS.

Ahem.

I feel better.

Or, I will, until that first bookmark folder suddenly has a (58) or a (12) or a (248) next to it.

More Boggling

Another random Discovery Health show.

(What?  I was sick.  I fell asleep when I got home (I made it until 8:15 or so at school before I realized I was being ridiculous and put in for a sub) and slept for three straight hours and then laid in bed for about five more.)

This firefighter is in a fire and -- long story short -- ends up with cortical blindness.

And the narrator, in this deeply sympathetic voice, says that now she -- an avid reader -- "can't do something she loved: read."

Or something to that effect.

Um.

Braille?

Audiobooks?

I mean, I know not everything is available, and that does suck.

But...she can't read?  At all?

Perspective, Part 2

So, Discovery Health is on for background noise, and then I hear this:  "It's one of the deadliest bacteria around -- responsible for over 50 deaths each year."

Which, yeah, sucks for the midwestern town that got hit with it.

But you gotta stop and say: 50 deaths?  Tell that to most of the Third World.

Illness update:  Fever is mostly gone (though it made a reappearance tonight).  I'm planning to go to school tomorrow, because I was actually conscious most of today, and I'm worried about the chaos that will ensue if I don't.

But that means I'll probably crash -- hard -- the moment I get home tomorrow.

Also?  I curse my internal clock and circadian rhythms, which are absolutely certain that it is not 9:25.

And -- if it's Daylight Savings Time from March until November -- No-freaking-vember! -- (that's 8 months, folks)...isn't that, kinda by default, our "Standard" time?  By virtue of being 2/3 of the year?  Shouldn't the blessed few months that are normal be, like, Daylight Shortened Time or something like that?

Meh

Not much progress in the illness front.  No wonder most kids who had this were out at least two days.  Blech.

Also?  There's not a whole lot of visible symptoms except sneezing and the occasional cough -- the main tip-off seems to be the fever (which is not responding very well to Tylenol).  Makes me grateful I can articulate, "I feel like I've been hit by a bus."  No wonder parents were sending their kiddos to school (except for the fever).

Hope that made sense.

Yuck

This cold sucks. Take your vitamins, folks.

Holy Crazy People, Batman!

I don't know what's worse...that someone came up with the idea, or that people actually do it.

Appropos of Nothing

A while back, I posted my incredulousness that a woman was more perturbed that an upcoming surgery might paralyze her than the notion that whatever the surgery was for might kill her.

Well, I watch a lot of science, nerdy type shows. In fact, my suggestions list on my TiVo is full of astronomy specials, history channel specials, and Extreme Engineering (Sky City sounds way cool, and is likely the future of cities).

At one point, I saw a special about a woman who had been born with a condition that required her to have both legs amputated at a very early age. It was...meh. There are lots of more interesting things out there, but when there's nothing else on, there's nothing else on.

Then I saw a preview for some upcoming shows that featured the same woman, who gets around by pushing herself on a skateboard.

She says, "I couldn't imagine being confined to a wheelchair."

Putting aside my issues with the phrase "confined to a wheelchair" for a bit, I have to boggle at that comment. What on earth would the difference be between using a skateboard for mobility and a wheelchair, besides eighteen inches or so?

But, I mean, really, how ingrained in our culture must this notion of wheelchair=bad be for someone who already uses alternative means of transportation (a means that, one could argue, is more unusual-looking than using a wheelchair) to reject it out of hand?

Further googling led to a few people who reacted to the documentary with admiration -- she can drive a car! She has a job! How amazing that she doesn't "allow" herself to be convinced to use a wheelchair!

Um.

Here's a bit of logic for you.

A wheelchair is a four-wheeled device upon which one sits. One propels oneself either manually or with electronic assistance. One uses it to get from one place to another. One does face the inconvenience of being at stomach-level with most people without disabilities.

A skateboard is a four-wheeled device upon which one generally stands, but upon which the aforementioned woman sits. One propels oneself manually. One uses it to get from one place to another. One does face the inconvenience of being at knee-level with most people without disabilites.

I. Just. Don't. Get. It.

It's a thing. It's the short-distance version of a car.

Think about it. You could, if sufficiently motivated, walk anywhere you can go in a car -- but it would take you a heck of a lot longer, use up more energy, and is just not practical.

It gets you from one place to another.

That's all a wheelchair is. It's a thing. It's a device.

And, for many people with physical disabilites, it's a liberating device that's the difference between going places and being stuck in bed at all times.

How pervasive must ableism really be, in our culture, for someone to internalize wheelchair = bad to the degree that a skateboard is the only option, to the extent that she can't even imagine using a wheelchair at all, when she's essentially using a short, homemade wheelchair to begin with?

How pervasive must ableism really be, for people's reaction to the documentary be admiration that she can drive?

No wonder we debate things like the Ashley Treatment. No wonder children like Katie McCarron and Annie Marshall and Tracy Latimer have been killed.

If we view using an assistive device (for the record, I use several: glasses, the ocassional ankle brace, and a specialty keyboard, among others) as OMG THE END OF THE WORLD...

...then people automatically think Ashley's life should be about her parents' convenience, that Annie and Tracy's life was pointless, sad, and hopeless.

It shouldn't even be a question. Of course Ashley is entitled to grow and mature and experience life as an adult. Of course Katie was entitled to life, however it would or would not have been affected by autism. Of course Tracy and Annie deserved to live, to be happy and engaged by whatever made them happy and engaged.

But we can't even discuss these as a society because the majority of people -- likely people who think they have no contact with someone with a disability (I say think because they likely know someone with learning disabilites, someone somewhere on the autism spectrum, someone with dyslexia, and so forth) -- can't even get past the use of a wheelchair.

And what's worse: someone who has disabilities can't even get past the use of a wheelchair.

It's...ridiculous doesn't even cover it.

Sick Days

I am not one to begrudge someone their sick days.

But if Aide J wasn't (1) vomiting all day, (2) delirious with fever, or (3) harboring something extremely contagious, like, say, ebola, she is On My List.

Last Monday, Aide S told me she'd be out this Monday.  She and her family were going to Lake Arrowhead for the weekend.

Okay, fine...put in for a sub...we'll survive.

Then, late last week, Aide T was not feeling well.  The doctor said she had to have a colonoscopy.

Okay, fine.  We'll sur -- it's on Monday?!  The same Monday Aide S is going to be out?

Aide T, bless her, tried to reschedule but couldn't do so.

So I packed up my stuff for today, and slipped a tape of The Jungle Book in my backpack, since I knew it was something Mr. Voice would pay attention to.

I didn't expect to have to use it, really -- we actually survived pretty well the last time anything similar happened.  'Course, we didn't have Mr. Voice then.

Then I get to school and ask if the positions had been filled with subs.

"Aides S and T have," our office clerk B says, "but Aide J's position is still open."

I - uh - eh - urrr - aide - ... -- WHAT?!?!

I was already not in the best of moods, because the muscle in the back of my leg is STILL kinda cramped (though it comes and goes now; it's not constant like it was).  Last year, I probably would have taken a sick day myself -- though not on a day with 2 people out -- to keep it slathered in Icy Hot, but instead, I took some Motrin, slapped on an Icy Hot patch (which had fallen off by 8:00), and grinned and bore it.

Incidentally, we survived.  If we hadn't had Mr. Voice, we might have even made it through a normal day, but he was the straw the broke the camel's back.  We got agenda books, journals, social studies, and Swiss Family Robinson done, but we also watched Jungle Book and played board games.

At one point, though, I was juggling Superhero, M, and Bulldozer successfully, so that's what I'm hanging onto for today.

Things I Learned This Weekend

1. Parts of Disneyland's fireworks are in stereo.  I learned this because I was actually near the speakers this time, instead of off to the side, either at the Plaza Inn or Carnation Gardens.
2. The beginning of the fireworks -- the parts largely stolen from Disney World's Wishes (though I think it was at DL before the current show, as well) -- are an elaborate magic trick-like diversion.  They are trying to keep you from looking at the top of the Matterhorn, where Tinkerbell and her harness come out of the gaping hole at the top of the mountain.
3. Tinkerbell must de-harness herself somewhere on top of the castle after the finale, because...
4. ...if you sit around Main Street after the fireworks, while they're playing "Remember When," you can see them retract Tink's empty harness back into the big, gaping hole in the top of the Matterhorn.
5. Pillows can tear.
6. I have a soft spot for "McKay and Mrs. Miller," almost entirely for the throwaway bit where England-born and Canadian-raised Amanda Tapping's Sam is amused by Rodney and Jeannie's Canadian pronunciation of "sorry."  For the record, the Canada is very audible in her speech (to me, the accent nerd), and there are even hints of the British.
7. It hurts to rip an Icy Hot patch off the back of your knee.
8. All those times I put AFOs on kids with CP whose muscles were tight?  I'm deeply, deeply sorry -- if my last two days' experience of having one muscle inexplicably tighten to the point that straightening my leg (thus lengthening the muscle) is painful.  Seriously.  Deeply sorry.

Meanwhile, I had the interesting experience of reading an article about cochlear implants just after reading a story where a character was considering (under duress) cochlear implants.  Funny  how life and fandom collide sometimes, eh?

Reading Comprehension

I did not watch the Oscars, mostly because I hadn't seen any of the nominated movies.  (Sad, I know, but when movies give you headaches, they're just not worth it.)

I do plan on seeing 10,000 B.C., 'cause it's by the guys who did Stargate and Independence Day.  Especially now that there are more trailers, and they are showing the pyramids.  I haven't made up my mind about the now-delayed Star Trek, and I'm sure I'll see The X-Files, but that'll probably be it until Half-Blood Prince comes out.

Anyhow, I did flip onto it in time to see the People We've Lost montage, and was interested to note that I recognized very few people this year -- probably because many people were behind-the-scenes folks.

I was a little taken aback when Roy Scheider was not shown, but, being a reasonable TiVo owner, I rewound to the beginning, intent to look for him.

And then I noticed that the montage was from January '07 to January '08.  Roy Scheider died in February.

So, I went, "Hmph," and went about life, figuring that he'd show up next year.

And then I read this, on imdb.com:

Some analysts were suggesting that in the haste to mount Sunday night's 80th Annual Academy Awards telecast following the writers' strike, the show's writers failed to research their material sufficiently. That might have accounted for the omission of some names from the annual list of the "departed." Several writers immediately noticed the fact that Roy Scheider, who died on Feb. 10, was overlooked, as was Brad Renfro who died on January 15. A spokeswoman for the Academy said that Scheider's death came too recently to be included and of Renfro, she said, "Unfortunately we cannot include everyone." (my emphasis)

Okay, the Brad Renfro thing...whatever.

But I find it very, very ironic that somebody complaining of "lack of research" didn't include in their own research...I dunno...watching the montage and reading the dates?

Spring Fever

I love my 4th, 5th, and 6th graders. I really do. For better or for worse, it's when a lot of things begin to click -- particularly in the late fifth-early sixth graders.

There's just one problem.

The giant cloud of hormones that begins to hover over the room right around this time of year.

Superhero came from home upset but pulled himself together. The Boss was flouncing around. Sleeping Beauty was playing dumb all morning, waiting for people to do stuff for her, and then swinging her jacket around and saying "Toro! Toro! Toro!" to Aide S. Bulldozer was grumpy (but he has a rash all over his body; I'd be grumpy too).

And PH spent all afternoon wailing in his Ridiculous Baby Voice. I mean, all afternoon. Aide S would get him simmered, then he'd ramp right back up again.

However, we continued to work on our presidential primaries book -- we've just now finished with Super Tuesday (yikes) -- and it's been a huge success.

(I'll take what I can get.)

Angel can name (as in, I hold up a picture and ask, "Who is this?") Hillary Clinton, Barack Obama, John McCain, Mitt Romney, and Mike Huckabee. She just today identified that Hillary Clinton is a Democrat. We're working on "Republican."

(She also came in today and said, "Did you watch the news on Friday?"

"Probably," I said. "Did you?"

"Yes!" She grinned, all excited. "They said Obama has the most points."

"You mean from the primaries?"

"Uh huh."

"What about Hillary Clinton?"

"She has to get more points or she'll lose."

Squee!!!!

Then, as we were filling out our books today, we came across Mitt Romney several times (still Super Tuesday, ya know).

"But Miss Spoowriter?" she said, frowning. "He quit."

(I, at no point, had told the kids that. Ever.)

"You're right; he did. But these happened before he quit."

"Why he quit? He won a lot."

"You're right; he did win a lot. I'm not sure why he quit."

Double squee!)

PH can name Barack Obama and can find Hillary Clinton.

The Boss and Sleeping Beauty can find a picture of Barack Obama without having one to match, and can name him from his picture.

Bulldozer can identify Hillary Clinton as "The Girl" and can match pictures of all the candidates.

Superhero and M can find Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton versus each other, with prompts (e.g. "Find Hillary Clinton -- the girl.")

Mr. Voice and Elastigirl are both finding the girl consistently, given both blank distracters and other candidates as distracters.

And we've only been doing this for a couple of weeks! Woo-hoo!

Dueling Banjos

I have come up with a nickname for New Boy C all by myself.  (Yay me.)

Y'see, there's this guy at Disneyland that comes on the loudspeaker for announcements:  "Ladies and gentlemen, in just 15 minutes the skies above Sleeping Beauty Castle...."  I call him Mr. Voice.

Mr. Voice has that kind of deep announcer voice that just...well, grabs your attention.

New Boy C is now Mr. Voice.

Mr. Voice -- the school one, not the Disney one -- likes to be loud.  In fact, the more he doesn't want to do something, the louder he gets.

Mr. Voice also has a great sense of humor.  He was fiddling with the volume on our teaching game the other day, and would chuckle every time I asked him to turn it back down.  I don't much care what psych and IQ testing and even his school performance says (psych testing is skewed against folks with autism anyway): this is one bright cookie.

Anyway, he figured out that M copies everybody.  So today, he made a noise, kind of a loud grunt.  M copied him.  His eyes lit up and he grinned.

He made another noise, a bit louder.  M, now beaming herself, copied him.

Sometimes it was vocalizations (noises, grunts, squeals), sometimes it was scripting, but back and forth it went, louder and louder and louder.

It was Dueling Banjos: The Screaming Version.

If it hadn't made the rest of the kids (and me) crazy, it'd have been funny.  As it was, apparently my behavior management mojo deserted me today, and I had a hard time redirecting either of them.

By the time I went to the office to sign my 2-week attendance paper, I was twitching and losing words...our poor office clerk had to decipher,  "I have to...sign the...the...the thing."

But, at least my day wasn't as dramatic as Cat's.  (Sorry, Cat.)

Another Boring Day

In history, not at school. Those are not boring. Though I'd take one day of borning. Just for fun.

Also? The clouds are making me miss the eclipse. Boo.

Perspective

Like most people, I occasionally use my blog as a place to vent and whine, especially when I don't have time to write creatively.  And I probably will again.

But for my 400th post tonight, I figured I'd go a different route.

I was working on next week's homework on Sparky Jr., my aging PC.  It gave me the predictable "OMG YOU'RE OUT OF RAM" error, followed by the "I WILL NOW USE YOUR HARD DRIVE (a.k.a. "page file") AS FAKE RAM; AS A RESULT, YOUR COMPUTER WILL SLOW TO A CRAWL," followed by the "OMG, I USED ALL YOUR DISK SPACE FOR THE PAGE FILE; PLEASE DELETE FILES SO I CAN USE MORE."

In other words, Sparky Junior is sick.

(Sounds like whining, I know -- just go with me here.)

Instead of getting annoyed, I thought about how my shower doesn't shock me, there are no alligators outside my door, and I can count on electricity any time of the day.

(Huh???? You are now asking.  I know.)

A while back, I mentioned, I think, my surprise at discovering that the girl on Signing Time was none other than the little girl I met when I first started working as an aide, who realized -- at the age of maybe 5 -- that although I sign some, I had no idea what the other kids were saying, and slowly told me her name was L - E - A - H.

Well, I discovered that Leah's mom Rachel has a blog, right around the time she was preparing a trip to Ghana (either with the help of, or in association with, Signs of Hope International -- I forget which).

Yep, Ghana.

Now that they're back, Rachel has been posting a trip report of their trip to Ghana.  It's fascinating, and more than a little sobering.

And then I read Day 8, which contained an account of their tour of a castle built during the slave trade.  They toured places where slaves had been kept, and where difficult slaves were kept.  I don't want to "spoil" it, but suffice it to say, Leah's reaction to the whole thing -- especially her matter-of-fact declaration (reported by her mom, but still) of what she would have done in the same circumstances -- was...well, thought-provoking is putting it mildly.

But it makes you think.  Yeah, Sparky Jr. is about to self-destruct, and, yeah, I've been trying really hard to come down with the flu for the last two weeks...but I'm not going to be shoved into a dark cell and holed up until I die.  I don't have to worry about being eaten by an alligator while I go to get my tooth brush.

I don't even have to worry about my shower shocking me.

We take a lot -- a lot -- for granted, and I think it's good once in a while to think about that.

Memo to Self

If toner dust explodes all over you when you open the box, it's a
pretty clear sign that the toner cartridge is defective.

1. Sigh.

2. Ewwww.

And Then There Were 134

Best Disney World Pictures

Between Patrick and myself, we took 3,454 pictures at Disney World in the summer.  iPhoto lets you rate pictures with 1 to 5 stars.  I first culled them down to four star images (389) and then pared those down to the really good ones.  As I said before, the main culprit in keeping an image a 4 star or less, as opposed to the 5 star images, were the darned skies.

You will also notice lots of nature photography herein.  Someday, when I'm rich, I really should buy a real macro lens.  And, of course, there's quite a bit of my favorite subject: water.

For the record: Patrick and I come by it honestly.  Our dad was a big photography buff, to the point that he developed his own photos (only in black and white; he was allergic to something you use to develop in color) and has a rather extensive collections of lenses that likely won't fit my aging first-generation Rebel.

I Hate Skies

So I'm trying to stay awake after my power nap turned into 2 hours earlier today by finally starting to cull out the really good Disney World pictures from this summer (yeah, I know)...and I've discovered something:  probably 1 in 10 pictures that would otherwise be awesome if I hadn't overexposed the darn sky.  This is more common in the morning pictures when it was gray and overcast, but it pops up just about everywhere.  Grrr.

By the way -- I have a million dollar idea I'm giving away for free: photography classes for people with intellectual disabilities...Patrick takes some very nice photos -- even the ones with weird subjects, as Aide T pointed out, show a good eye for lines and textures.  Plus, it's neat to see what he thinks is interesting and how he views the world.

(Once I pick out the 5 star photos, I'll upload them to Picasa so y'all can see them.  But I have 1000 more to go through.)

Costco, Here I Come

I have found my new Seldane.

Let me 'splain.

When I was 12, 13, and just starting to have really bad allergies, my friend's mom -- a nurse -- totally didn't give me and my mom free samples of a nifty allergy medicine called Seldane.

It was awesome.  It worked beautifully.  Stopped my itchy throat (the one allergy symptom I just can't tolerate) in its tracks.

There was only one problem.

Some people didn't read the drug interaction warnings, took Seldane and...something, and died.

No more Seldane.

I have been making do with 4 hour Chlor-Trimeton (only 4 hour; the other dosages just don't work for me), which is difficult to find and only sporadically available, since.

Then, last time I was at Costco (to buy this; yum) I saw that Zyrtec is now available over the counter.  After some investigating, it seems that the double pack at Costco is more or less what Walmart charges for one pack.

But $25 is a lot to spend on something that might make me loopy like Claritin or not work at all like the Allegra I totally didn't borrow from Patrick once.

Well, Ralphs had a packet of five.

Oh.  My.  God.

Unless I wake up with a green forehead or some other ridiculous side effect...I finally have my Seldane back!

(Those of you who don't have allergies will not understand my elation.  Those that do...will.)

Psychology

You know how you see something every day until you need it? After re-reading the info in their catalog, I've decided to give the Test Me part of Switching on American History a try. It seemed too simple last time, but I've realized that I probably just wasn't setting it up right.

Except that, of course, it's nowhere to be found. Grr. I know I've seen it multiple times just in the last month, and I can't, for the life of me, figure out where it might be.

Meanwhile, New Boy C started today. Either whoever wrote his IEP neglected to mention that everything they said he could do was done with full hand-over-hand prompting, or he was way more traumatized than he appeared. Yikes!

It's not that I mind having to go back and teach more basic skills...that's no big. It's just that it bothers me that they skipped matching pictures, letters, and words and identifying pictures, etc., and went straight into the stuff they said he could do.

We shall see.

Also? Walmart had fake fur in the art department. I am going to see if it would be an acceptable "hair" substitute for M.

Also:  Ha!

Edited to add the d'oh moment of the day:

Me:  (after watching New Boy C be prompted to look inside his snack)  Wooow, we've got some prompt dependence going on.

Aide J:  That's bad?

Me:  ** brain broken **     ** brain broken **   *** abort / retry / fail ***

Aide T:  Uh...yes.

And Another One

"The twenty-first century: mankind has colonized the last unexplored region on Earth -- the ocean."

Roy Scheider has joined Jonathan Brandis in the great ocean in the sky.  Boo.  :-(

Edited to add:  Yeah, yeah, Jaws.  I was a SeaQuest girl.

The Illusion of Security

Note to DHS computer crawlers: Any circumstances described herein are purely hypothetical.

A while back, I promised a post on security at the Happiest Place on Earth, and then promptly got distracted by the usual stuff.  Having been there today, I decided to revisit the topic.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

For the descendants of hardy, self-sufficient pioneers who braved treacherous seas and crossed continents on foot, we've become a bunch of chickens.  I mean, read Little House on the Prairie -- any of you crossed a raging river in a covered wagon lately?

I thought so.

Interestingly enough, I think you can still see some of these character traits in the adrenaline junkies of our time -- the ones who climb mountains because they're there...because they want the challenge, the thrill.

And yet.

And yet, when we feel threatened, we're a knee-jerk-reaction society.  It doesn't help that we're litigious as well.

Case in point: we put ridiculous warnings on things that shouldn't require warnings.  Like taking the baby out of the stroller before you fold it.  But someone, somewhere, was dumb enough to do that, so the company went (knee-jerk) ohmigod we'd better tell people not to do that before they sue us (litigious).

So, after the September 11th attacks, people were trying to figure out other places terrorists might target and assumed (rightly; who knows?) that striking Disneyland or Disney World -- places of perceived innocence and channeling your inner child -- would psychologically hurt.

Okay, fair enough.  Reasonable assumption there.

So what do they do?

Set up security stations where they check your bags.

(Except at Disney World, where they -- intelligently -- have a separate "guests without bags" entrance where you walk in as a security guard looks at you.)

But here's the thing.

Actually, here's Thing Number 1:  What's to say someone didn't dig out the innards of that digital camera and replace it with some plastic explosive, anthrax, or other terrorist-like material?  If you just do a visual inspection, what's the point?

And Thing Number 2:  On many occasions, I have walked right into Disneyland wearing a windbreaker with a large pouch in the front, and have not been stopped by security.  That pouch has contained, variously, iPods, digital cameras, iPhones, cell phones, wallets, and various and sundry other things.

Because that pouch was part of my clothing, and not a separate "bag," it was not inspected.

At this point, I say simply:  See Thing Number 1.

And, finally, Thing Number 3:  On other occasions, I have walked right into both Disneyland and Disney World with pockets full of various electronics, medicines, and a variety of other substances that, while perfectly benign while I carried them, could certainly have been something else.

So, I must ask:  What on Earth is the point of all this?  You stand in long lines to have your bags looked through to absolutely no useful security effect.

Why?

Because it makes people -- or, at least, people who don't stop and think about things like this -- feel better.

Just like making people use plastic forks on airplanes makes people feel better, when I could snap off an arm of my glasses and make a perfectly serviceable poking device, useful for inflicting bodily injury on myself or others.

Just like installing security doors in cockpits that only the pilots can open and INCLUDING A FRELLING KEY-LOCK that (I must assume) is pick-able.

Because the illusion -- the appearance -- of safety is all we care about.  We don't think about the uselessness or pointlessness of it all.  We don't think about the fact that terrorism has existed for years and -- while, yeah, it was awful for it to hit us in such a visceral way -- will continue to exist.  We don't think about the fact that flagging one-way tickets is ridiculous, as terrorists would just buy round trip tickets without planning on using the second half.

WE.  DON'T.  THINK.

Instead, we react.  We get knee-jerk-y and emotional.  And we comfort ourselves by making things look safer -- imagine the outcry if Disney hadn't started checking bags (for bombs and poisons and whatnot that STILL BE THERE) after September 11th?

Imagine the outcry if they took the ridiculous security station out now?

And, just imagine what will happen when the next attack comes, and it's a train.  Or a boat.  Or a suicide bomber running into an airport or other crowded place, knowing police are following him and shooting at him and not caring 'cause...well, 'cause he's gonna explode in 30 seconds anyway?

I don't know that there's a good answer, but I do know this: those green-covered tents do absolutely nothing other than placate the masses, and that's sad.  We need to start thinking with our heads again.  We're the country that decided it could go to the moon in a decade and DID, forty years ago.  We're smart.

This isn't smart.  It's an illusion, and if we spend too much time immersing ourselves in the feel-good illusion, we'll be that much more shocked when something else bad happens...assuming we know how to deal with it at all, and I'm not at all sure that we do.

"You either live life -- bruises, skinned knees, and all -- or you turn your back on it and start dying."  -- Captain Christopher Pike, "The Cage."

Fog and Parents

The tetanus-booster-induced fog continues.  Added to that, I think my immune system -- which was already fighting the plague going through our school (one aide works in a 2nd grade class of 18 in the mornings; on Monday no less than 10 kids, the teacher, and Aide B were all out sick) -- has given up.  It probably was the tetanus booster and hep-B booster that was too much for it.

 Now, about parents.

My allergies were also nuts today, plus the cold and brain fog.  Aide S was feeling sick.  Then I, like a dork, had the kids run on the track this morning, which sent Superhero's allergies into overdrive -- and this is when we get behavioral squalls, so to speak.

So he had a rough day.

Fortunately, he has an awesome mom.  How awesome?  I can say to Superhero, "If you don't stop, I will have to tell mom you lost your privilege (DVDs) tonight," and she'll do it!

Every year, I have a range of parents; this year is no different.

Angel has a foster family.  Sleeping Beauty's parents are both doctors; they are actively involved in the school, but can't always come to school if, for instance, she's sick, and since their entire extended family is in another country, that has made for a few naps on the beanbag.  The Boss's mom struggles but she's also been good backup in the past; once, when The Boss got in trouble, she made sure to pick her up at school the next day and read her the riot act in front of me.

Superhero's mom, as I said above, is made of awesome.  M's parents both have cognitive disabilities themselves, and while I've known parents with cognitive disabilities who were wonderful parents -- and who had very good support themselves -- they struggle.  Bulldozer's parents talk a good game, but also hand feed him and do some other ridiculous things.  I think they mean well -- his dad in particular understands he needs discipline -- but don't really get it.

Elastigirl's father is on dialysis and her mom really struggles but genuinely, truly, tries her best.

And of course there's PH's mom, who is from the far side of the moon.

And by "moon," I mean Pluto's moon Charon.

Or maybe something further out into outer space.

The moral of this story is: I don't care if you're an expert (Elastigirl's mom) or if you're genuinely unavailable (Sleeping Beauty's family) or if your job makes you 10 minutes late to pick up your daughter (Space Cadet J -- now a 7th grader).  If you genuinely care and genuinely try, you are awesome.

To any parents reading this: I'd be willing to bet your kids' teachers feel the same way.

The Baseball Cometh

The last time I had a tetanus booster, my arm swelled up like there was a tennis ball under my skin.

But I was a little girl then, and although that was enormous at the time, it doesn't do justice to the Moya-shaped growth that is appearing on my right arm.  It's at least baseball sized -- although oddly it's not swelling out (vertically) as much as the tenderness, slight swelling, and...hardness (?) of the skin (touch your arm relaxed and then with flexed muscles...my arm feels flexed) is swelling horizontally.

On the plus side, the brain fog that enveloped me after the doctor's appointment -- a mix of reaction to the blood draw, the tension about that, the two vaccines, and such -- is slowly abating.

Just don't ask me what the Simpsons I just watched was about.

Also: Memo to Vampire

Yes,  you.  The one who first tried to take my blood.

I sympathize with you.  I really do.  I know my veins are deep, and thus, hard to find.  Really.

But knowing that failed blood draws can leave painful bruising should have at least led you to NOT put a very adhesive, cheapie band-aid (that meant it was virtually impossible to bend my arm, thus making me want to take it off and replace at the first opportunity) with Super Glue adhesive.

Cotton ball and tape.  Good things.

Things that don't hurt like a mother-you-know-what-er to pull off.

Our Office Managers Think My Priorities are Skewed

Why, do you ask?

Well, I was bitten on the arm today, hard enough to break the skin -- which, per district policy, meant I had to go to the worker's comp place and get a blood test.

Being very much not a fan of needles, I was very freaked out about this.

The bite?  Meh, not so much.  Yeah, it hurt, but here's the thing.

It's not pleasant, but one of the realities of dealing with kids with special needs in general and kids with more severe disabilities in particular is that often they have moments with undesirable behaviors.  Most often, those behaviors are an attempt to communicate something, to fill some need, and it's my job as a teacher to teach alternatives.

But you know going into it that there's risk.  I've been scratched, had my hair pulled, had my...er...chestal area pinched, been pinched, been head-butted.  A friend's foot was broken when one of her kids stomped on it.  It truly doesn't bother me -- I'd rather deal with a kid that scratches than a kid that whines all day.

Oddly enough, even though this is my fifth year of teaching, and even though I had a child for two years that bit everybody and everything, including himself, and even though I had a different child for a year and a half who was famous for biting a tree one day, I had never been bitten before.

It hurts, but not for a while.  My arm went numb for about twenty minutes, then started to ache.  It's swollen now and is going to bruise, but what hurts worse is the spot on my arm where they tried to draw blood and failed (ouch).

So, in my left arm, I have a poke from the Hepatitis B booster they made me take, as well as the poke on the inside of my elbow from where the good technician at the lab took blood.  In my right arm, I have my rapidly-swelling tetanus booster (I got it about 4.5 hours ago now and it's already visibly swollen), the very painful poke where the guy at the worker's comp place tried and failed to get my blood, and the bite itself.

Aide J was still out today, which was definitely a blessing.  The official Room Mine policy is "don't lie but don't volunteer" because Aide J knowing Bulldozer bit my arm will result in two things: (1) she will freak out and be all falsely mothery over a very-unperturbed me and (2) she will take every opportunity she has to "remind" Bulldozer to be nice and will probably work him back up into meltdown mode.

Meanwhile, my student teacher started today.  She hadn't been there 20 minutes when Bulldozer bit me...but she didn't run away, so that's a plus.

And I'm still more concerned over the "four blood tests over six months" policy than I am over the bite itself...that's just a scrape that happened to be caused by teeth.

The office managers think I'm nuts.

Out of the Mouths of Babes

Elastigirl is still out sick. As near as I could get from my conversation with her mother, she has something "contagious" and has been on medicine for it but needs different medicine.

Thus, Aide J has been available to...err...help...the other kids.

Bulldozer has done pretty well this week, but Superhero's had it rough. He was better today but spent nearly all day yesterday with me (Aide S was out getting her knee MRIs redone; he may have to have more surgery). Aide S can keep him simmered, but even when I told Aide J to do certain things, she (as usual) kept harping on him.

I use "harping" deliberatly -- just like PH, she picks and picks and picks and picks. Her praise is...unenthusiastic and clearly not heartfelt. (Or, so it sounds, which is all that matters.) Her redirections are wordy and judgmental. Turns out even our psychologist had tried to explain to her to back off from certain kids, but no dice.

Anyhow, poor The Boss and PH somehow always end up on the receiving ends of her attitude. (Granted, The Boss was pushing it today -- with lots of flouncy teenager attitude and such.)

Anyway, it's time for journals. Sleeping Beauty (formerly known as Princess) is not at school, nor is Elastigirl. New Boy C has not started yet. So it's 6 kids and four adults. The zipper on M's jacket broke this morning, thus messing with her perception of the entire freaking universe, and she was an absolute wreck. I was with Superhero. Aide T was with Bulldozer and PH. The Boss moved over there.

Aide J approaches while I'm up getting something. "Bulldozer, can I help you with your work?"

(My martyr complex, let me show you it.)

"No. Aide T."

(Hmmm.)

So, she goes and sits next to M and Aide S, to help calm M down.

A while later, it was time for science. Superhero was iffy, but I felt like he was more or less under control.

Except that Aide J asked him, "Superhero, may I go with you to science?"

"No."

She eventually talks him into going, and I predict that they will be back nearly immediately. (They weren't, but I attribute that to the peer pressure factor; after a rocky first couple of weeks, he's generally an angel in his general ed classes.)

Things rock and roll for a while. I am planning on using these for New Boy C and for a second communication option for Elastigirl. Because Superhero is that kinda kid, I gave him one for his desk too (he'd have been all over the other kids' and getting into trouble) that has his own voice recorded saying "help please."

Right now, we're in the "oooh, cool!" stage, wherein he pushes the button repeatedly. Aide J threatened to take it away. I said, "No, we have to respond to this like we'd respond to another kid talking."

She tried to take it away again this afternoon, but caught my dark look. Meanwhile, I said, "R, I will help you when it's your turn," and didn't respond anymore.

But that was a tangent.

It's after News-2-You time, and we're splitting up into working groups. I have Bulldozer and Superhero because Aide S and Aide J are working together, and while I trust Aide S with either of them, she also had M.

Aide J went over to The Boss (girl J) and said, "The Boss, can I help you with your work?"

"No."

(Yeah....)

Then, after lunch, Superhero was doing his usual hyper-giggling thing. Aide S was redirecting him beautifully -- no words, just moving closer or farther away as the situation warranted. Aide J stepped in several times, escalating Superhero to the point that Aide S had to hold his desk so he wouldn't push it over.

Then, when the sixth graders had to leave for their Family Life presentation, she says (are you ready for it?), "Superhero, are you ready to go with me?"

He spit on her.

I think that's a "no."

At that point, Superhero wasn't ready to go anyway, so she left with Angel, while S waited calmly and patiently until he was able to put his shoes and glasses back on. She even (go Aide S!) asked if he wanted to walk there on his own.

He said he did, but I caught her eye and mouthed "Follow him, please."

"Ooooh, yeah," she mouthed back.

Go Aide S!

Meanwhile, I'm pondering whether or not Aide J will notice that on four separate occassions today, kids told her they did not want to be around her.

I mean...that kinda suggests it's time to reflect. Particularly since Aides S, Mrs. B, and T, and I are the ones making them do the hard stuff most times...if anybody, they should dislike us.

In other news, our program specialist recommended me to be a master teacher for a student teacher from CLU. I am (1) appreciative (I mean, nice compliment, yeah?), (2) happy (another body! woo-hoo!), (3) slightly annoyed (like I don't have enough to worry about in the Grown Ups department...Aide S needing more surgery now shooting right up to the top of that list), (4) resigned (when the program specialist recommends you for a job, you do it), (5) happy (master teacher = stipend), and (6) dreading having one more person to worry about.

On the other hand, maybe Aide J will listen to her.

And then I'll ride my flying pig home.

Zero Means None

While I realize that overwhelming majorities in one small area do tend to accurately predict election outcomes, it puzzles me as to how you can declare a winner (with percentages, no less) if none of the precincts have reported in.

Just sayin'.

Maybe THEY Should Play Free Rice

Ahem.

Ladies and gentlemen of the writing community,

Palatable = nice.  Yummy.  Good for your palate.  You like it.

Palpable = you can feel it.  Touchable.

I highly doubt that the electricity between two people was "palatable."

Unless you...like...eating...elec--

Nah.

Darth Mufasa

I will never, ever be able to watch The Lion King in the same way again.

That broke my brain in a way that The Simpsons tried for but never achieved.

Lisa: That was for you, Bleeding Gums.

Bleeding Gums Murphy: (appearing in the clouds) You've made an old jazzman happy, Lisa.

Mufasa: (appearing in the clouds) You must avenge my death, Kimba -- I mean, Simba.

Darth Vader: (appearing in the clouds) Luke, I am your father.

James Earl Jones: (appearing in the clouds) This is CNN.

Bleeding Gums Murphy: Will you guys pipe down? I'm saying goodbye to Lisa!

Also? I got to level 45 on Free Rice for the first time. Unfortunately, it now goes to level 55 instead of 50.

This is Awesome

This is awesome and hysterically funny.

Even if my "Minesweeper method" is more the "click random boxes and see what happens" variety.  Odd, I know, since it should be right up my alley, but there you have it.

Civics Lesson

Back in 2000, when Patrick was 13, he was becoming much more sophisticated in his interests. Sure, he had moments where he watched Power Rangers, but he was also watching ER and the news.

So, just before the election, the usual OMG IGNORANT VOTERS hysteria was going on (which, yeah, is a big deal, but of course the media was very sensationalistic about it.

One of the things they did was take random people and show them pictures of then-President Clinton, Al Gore, and George W. Bush. Naturally, it was edited to show people in the worst possible light, but even so, the amount of ignorance -- some people not only couldn't name Gore or Bush, many couldn't point out our current, sitting president, who had been in the news quite a bit for the type of senationalistic things that even non-political people are interested in.

In other words, I thought sex was supposed to sell?

Anyway, Patrick happened to be watching the news when they were doing that, and he named everybody. He could even say who was president and who wanted to be president.

So I've been watching the current elections, trying to figure out a way to involve my kiddos. I think I've mentioned before that we often find places on our classroom map, with the ultimate goal of everyone but Elastigirl being able to find America on a map, and with Elastigirl being able to find the map.

Then, tonight, when I'm supposed to be making homework, it hits me -- I have a bare cabinet just waiting for a long, narrow chart. The kind of chart that would involve three columns: state, Democratic winner, and Republican winner.

Like this:



Then, I made a book that the kids will put together containing the same information. We'll add to it as the primaries progress.



My ultimate goal for this is to expose the kids to the concept of "voting," to get them to at least recognize a couple of the candidates, and, in Elastigirl's case, to at least identify the "girl" and the "boy."

And This Person is Teaching Your Children

I'm not going to link to the blog I found this on, 'cause that would be mean, but I present to you a statement of such utter "???????" that I just had to share:

"Babylon 5 was my favorite Star Trek show."

Um.

Yeah.

To Boldly Go

So, this weekend, I channeled my inner geek and went to see Star Trek: The Tour.  It was pretty cool -- I think the neatest thing for me were the set replicas (some of which you could actually stand in/on, but Patrick had stomach trouble and didn't want to wait -- as you can imagine, those lines were the longest).  I took a few pictures, but like a certain blogger who I used to have a horrible crush on, and now read 'cause he's an awesome writer, my camera battery died.

At least I'm in good company, eh?

Oh, and my second favorite part: they had a simulator ride (think Star Tours) where you are bringing some sort of technobabble thing to the moon -- but you're on Shuttlecraft Hawking (very cool); also, there were like 50 47s stuck into the short ride.

I've been a Trekkie since I was five, when my dad was buying the Original Series episodes on VHS tape (he correctly predicted that VHS would win the format wars because there was no way to record to Betamax at home) and showed me "The Trouble With Tribbles."  

The first three seasons of Enterprise didn't interest me (to be honest, they lost me in the first five minutes of the pilot with the bumpy-headed Klingons, a continuity gaffe that was so awful as to be ridiculous), though the fourth was vastly better (they hired Star Trek novelists who actually found a way to explain the aforementioned horrible continuity gaffe), and I'm not at all sure about the current movie, so it was nice that the exhibit focused largely on the Original Series and Next Generation.

It allowed annoyance-free nostalgia.  :-)

Where it all began.

*sniff*  "Let's see what's out there.  Engage."

"Many such adventures are possible."

Found in Your Local Megamart...

I present the Cara Cara orange (a.k.a. pink navel or red navel).  It is grapefruit-colored but very sweet.  I sense a new favorite.

The Psychology of Language

I don't often comment on politics here, for a variety of reasons, but I have been growing increasingly distracted while listening to political commentary lately.

Why?

Because people always refer to Senator Obama as "Obama" and to Senator Clinton as "Hillary."

As in, "I'm a Hillary supporter," and "I'm an Obama supporter."

It just strikes me as odd, and it makes the nascent linguist in me wonder: is this laziness (saying "Obama" and "Clinton" would make people want to clarify which Clinton) or is it inherent, deeply-disguised gender bias (it's permissible to be more informal with a woman)?

Or is it something else entirely?

Diplomacy

Or, in fandom slang: my indignant, spluttering outrage, let me show you it.

All me to set the scene.

It's mid-December, and Speech Person DFT is asking me about Elastigirl's communication.  The conversation, at one point, veers off into the difference between "modeling," "prompting," and "cueing."

DFT:  So, you're saying that Elastigirl only communicates verbally after you model something for her?

Me:  I wouldn't call it modeling, in the sense that she has no idea what to say until I model it for her with the expectation that she repeats it, no.

DFT:  But she doesn't come up with the words on her own?

Me:  Very rarely, but generally not.  She doesn't respond well to outright requests, like "Elastigirl, say 'more.'"  But if you say, "Elastigirl, do you want more?" she'll say "more."

DFT:  So you're saying she's echolalic?

Me:  Not in the usual sense of the term, no.  To me, it looks like she has a word-retrieval problem.  Like, the word is there, but for whatever reason, she can't access it without the auditory cue first.

DFT:  Oooh, I don't think so.  I think it's just because her developmental level is so low.

Me:  (skeptically)  Okay....

Today, during Elastigirl's IEP meeting (in which she transcribed several of Elastigirl's most common phrases incorrectly, and did not know the name of Elastigirl's communication device -- which is not a surprise, given that I'm the one that located it and used PTA funds to buy it, because she wanted to give Elastigirl a Big Mack (a.k.a. the giant flying projectile that will bash someone's brain in) rather than her TalkTrac (a.k.a. the small and light device that can be attached to things)) the following exchange occurred:

DFT:  Elastigirl almost never verbalizes spontaneously but she will inconsistently repeat a verbal prompt.  Though (looks at me) I don't know that 'prompt' is the right word.

Me:  No, I don't think so.  Like I said when we were speaking before, it's not a prompt in the sense of "Here, Elastigirl, let me tell you how to do this thing you've never done before."

DFT:  Right.  In fact, (pause, then look of dawning realization, then direct eye contact with mom) you know, it looks almost like she has a word-retrieval problem, and she needs that auditory cue in order to retrieve the word.

Me:  *($R#(#$($*#*$(#*($ WHAT???????

(Okay, not really, but I did gape at her and mutter very quietly under my breath to Principal SDF, "That's what I told her and she told me no!")

I very rarely have actual issues with DFT -- she annoys me, and I see very little value in what she does with any kids who have any issues beyond just articulation -- but between what she did in December and first dismissing my opinion (while telling me Elastigirl does not need speech services because I know her best) and then using my hard-won observation to sound good is just wrong.

Don't get me wrong -- I know that the ultimate goal here is to help Elastigirl become a better communicator.  So in the end, it doesn't really matter whose idea it was.

But that's the thing -- it doesn't matter whose idea it was, so why pass that idea off as your own brilliant on-the-spot brainstorm?

But it was an IEP meeting, and I'd have hated it if she'd openly questioned me during one, so I let it go.

My diplomacy, let me show you it.

Hmph

So I'm using the online version of our IEP program to write Elastigirl's IEP (I find myself in the unique position of wanting to write too many goals...saying "hi," following natural cues...argh). Only problem is -- it only runs in Internet Explorer, 'cause it's an ActiveX thing.

If I get a virus from the darned thing, I'll be very upset.

For the record, Elastigirl's goals include: demonstrating 1:1 correspondence to 5 using Touch Math, sequencing the first two letters of her name (spelling the whole thing in one year is askinga lot), urinating in the toilet at least once a day (this is a huge new development!), identifying 2 pictures per week from a field of three (up from one a week from a field of two), retaining a total of 30 pictures over the school year, getting her signature stamp in a box (right now, we're happy if it's on the paper), and requesting attention appropriately from all people in her environment.

Familiarity Breeds...?

Shortly after Thanksgiving 2006, James Kim and his family were driving in Oregon when they got lost in the wilderness.  After several days stranded in the woods in their car, with no cell service, James set off on foot to try to find help for his wife Kati and his two young girls, Sabine and Penelope.

As he was hiking in the woods, searchers spotted the car and rescued Kati, Sabine, and Penelope.  They had been living on melted snow; Kati breast fed the two girls.

Meanwhile, James Kim froze to death as he hiked in the wilderness.

Why is this important?

Because the tech community -- especially the television tech community -- is very small.  In fact, there was one lone technology channel for a few years (ZDTV, then renamed TechTV, until it was bought by G4 and wasn't a tech channel anymore).

(Southern California locals might be interested to know that Michaela Pereira of KTLA started on a tech news show on TechTV called TechLive.)

In any event, once TechTV stopped being TechTV, Leo Laporte started podcasts and a radio show that brought most of the old "family" back together, while others moved onto CNET and other places.

James Kim was one that had moved to CNET.  While on TechTV, he did reviews -- mostly of printers.  I remembered him immediately as the guy who used to show off printers with pictures of flowers...until he abruptly began to use pictures of his new baby girls.

Once at CNET, James Kim did mp3 player reviews for a video podcast that TiVo allows you to download.

I never met James Kim.  I've never met Leo Laporte, or Patrick Norton, or Kevin Rose (yes, the digg guy), or Roger Chang, or Megan Morrone, or Cat Schwartz, or...

...but years after the demise of the TV channel, I remember their names, and feel a connection with them.  A shared geekdom, if you will.  Pleasure at knowing that someone out there built a one terabyte drive and stuck it in a monster of a CPU tower just because it was cool.

And the really cool thing is that these guys were just unapologetically geeky.  See -- I had two disclaimers where this paragraph is at this moment essentially saying "I know I said it was cool, but I know it wasn't really cool."

I don't follow sports, but the nearest analogy I can think of is, for me, watching somebody demonstrate water-cooling a CPU by dunking it in...I think...rubbing alcohol was like watching Shaq play basketball in his heyday.

What brings this up now?

I'm not really sure, except that I read some really awful comments on the Yahoo! story about Heath Ledger's death about how it didn't really matter because thousands of people die every day.

You know what?  They do.  And it's awful, and it sucks, but if they're lucky, they live in a small town where everybody knows them and a few hundred people mourn their death.

You know what else?  For better or for worse, people feel a connection with TV/movie stars, often for superficial reasons, and often for very personal ones.  No, there's no reciprocity, but I still contributed $20 to the search for James Kim's family, because I cared.  People care about Heath Ledger.  Millions of people know who he was.

Do I agree with the sensationalism?  Of course not.  Whether he committed suicide or not (it looks like probably not), whether he took sleeping pills or heroine or nothing, whether he died of heart failure or pneumonia or an overdose, huge, hysterical, sensationalist headlines based on little more than rumor do nobody any good.

Do I agree that Heath Ledger's death should take precedence on Yahoo!'s main page over any number of other disasters, both foreign and domestic?  Of course not.

But to say "so what" and much, much worse is just callous.

For the record, I've only -- to my recollection -- seen Heath Ledger in one film: after it came out on DVD, I got Brokeback Mountain from Netflix just to see what all the fuss was about.  Now, I don't cry at movies...but with the possible exception of What Dreams May Come, I don't think I've ever come as close as I did during the closing scene where an aging Heath Ledger comes across the shirt in his closet.  Ouch.

So I'm not speaking as a fangirl here; but I am speaking as someone who's experienced losses in my family, and even though I know better than to wade into the on Yahoo, I had to say something.

And even though they'll never read it, my condolences to his daughter, her mother, and his family.

(Also, and please forgive the gallows humor, but I have to ask...according to imdb.com, both he and his sister were named after the lead characters in Bronte's Wuthering Heights.  Hello?  Isn't that just about the definition of "asking for trouble?"  About the only thing worse would be to name your kids Romeo and Juliet, or Oedipus and Jocasta.)

Note to Self

Do not make fun of people for being cold. The laws of karma dictate
that less than half an hour later, you will be freezing cold
everywhere except for your exceedingly hot right ear, which makes
huddling under several layers of blankets rather uncomfortable.

Nitpicking

If you say you "could care less," it means that you could, in fact, care less.  Ergo, you care a little.

My guess is, you mean that you "couldn't care less;" meaning, of course, that you could not care less.  That you care so little that it's impossible for you to care even a little bit less.

Why You Never Want Patrick to Say "I Have an Idea"

This is called Patrick's "I have an idea" face.

This is why you don't want to see it.

(Long-time readers may also remember this.  Same ride; different time zone.)

The Mind of an Electrical Engineer

So, we're at dinner tonight with my grandpa, his girlfriend, and a few other people from my mom's work.  The following conversation took place between me, Patrick, my Grandpa, and his girlfriend T while waiting for everyone else to get there.

T:  So, how was your trip to Orlando?  Did you have fun?

Patrick:  Yeah.

T:  Just 'yeah'?

Me:  "Yeah" is high praise for Patrick.

T:  I heard it was cold.

Patrick:  Yeah.

Me:  It was really cold.

T:  How cold was it?

(No, this is not leading to a really bad joke.)

Me:  Well, the highest high was around 72, but there were two days that the highs were in the high forties.

T and Grandpa:  In the day time?

Me:  (flummoxed)  Uh...yeah, the highs were in the high forties.

T and Grandpa:  During the day?

Me:  (why fight it?)  Yeah, during the day.

Leaving me to wonder when, exactly, you would reach your high temperature for the day.

This Day in History

So, the week is chugging by. Superhero and Bulldozer were both good today, and I got a very nice email from Superhero's mom when I reported that we're becoming cautiously hopeful that he's getting his raging hormones and testosterone-y temper under control.

In notable news, I found my old iPod -- hanging in a bag on my bedroom door (which is only closed when I sleep, which explains why I hadn't seen it). However, the story of how I found it is not so nice. One of the cats, Pumpkin, has adopted me. Every once in a while, I let her sleep on my bed (but she's a very needy and clingy cat, so I do this sparingly). Last night, I woke to the sound of her throwing up on my bed; when I woke up, I discovered she'd done...err...something else.

So, she's banished for a few days as punishment -- which worked remarkably well last time she was banished (for wetting on the bed). But to keep her out, my bedroom door has to be closed -- hence, me looking at the inside of my door with the lights on for the first time in...a long time.

Patrick is thrilled.

He will be more thrilled when I show him the inside pictures of the Mark VII monorails that I found on mousetimes.

Edited to add: His response was a wide grin, and repeating the phrase, "Wow, cool! Wonderful! That's so wonderful!" about ten times.

In nerdy news, while doing the kids' journals for next week, I stumbled across this tidbit: Caligula's (the bats**t insane Roman emperor, for my non-history-geek readers) real name was Gaius Caesar. I wonder if it's coincidence that Baltar on the re-imagined Battlestar Galactica's name is Gaius? (Probably not. He's self-serving and insane. I may have to go back and look for other subtle allusions.)

Also, at some point, if I can find the words, I'd like to blog about the conviction of Katie McCarron's mother.