letting go, but cringing

One of the frequent characteristics of autism and aspergers is an unusually high degree of interest in something or another, in some cases you could even call it an all consuming obsession. T was no exception in this particular area; as a baby, it was fans (or anything that spun), there was a brief love affair with Thomas The Tank Engine, which was quickly supplanted by K'nex (which he still uses now as a calming technique), an intense occupation with drawing, lego mania, then all things Yu-Gi-Oh (if you need to ask, don't). As much as I disliked Yu-Gi-Oh, I would gladly take it back if I could rid him of his present affliction: horror movies and video games. And not just any, the really crappy kind. As a homeschooling parent for a lot of years, I learned to take advantage of his interests and turn them into teachable moments. Keeping his attention was always one of our biggest challenges. Up until Yu-Gi-Oh, it was rather easy to find opportunities to use all of those earlier interests into academic development. Truthfully, I could have used Yu-Gi-Oh for all kinds of school skills if I just hadn't disliked it so much. But now what?

I no longer have the primary responsibility for choosing his curriculum and supplemental materials as T is currently enrolled in a cyber charter school, complete with giant heavy text books and relatively up to date computer technology. Still, I consider his outside interests to be his most likely source of eventual independence and success, and I try hard to keep him busy with endeavors that I consider productive to his personal growth in some way.

But of all the things to be interested in, why the macabre? I can't STAND it. I also feel like it's some kind of sickness maybe even, or sign of psychopathology, although others have assured me that this is a common interest for young teenage boys, like battles and war, weapons or kickboxing. But seriously, yuck. You'd think I'd be dancing with joy that he really wants to learn how to write stories and make films, but it so hard to to find ways to help him turn this grotesque muck into something positive. I have had discussions with him about the importance of improving his drawing and creative writing skills, as well as using a video camera and learning how to use the computer technology in all those areas to edit his work. He has also expressed an interest in acting, but usually that means he wants to carry a knife. I tell him that at least participating in some kind of drama club or classes will help him to be a better director, but I'm not sure he could find the type of parts that would really interest him if he doesn't get to stab something.

The best I feel like I can do is try to help him be more discriminating in his choice of reading material and film selection. He tells me what he really likes are psychological thrillers where there is a lot of suspense with a good story and someone's life has to be in danger. So far, that usually means a big knife and lots of bloodshed. I have recently suffered through Friday the 13th, Halloween, Nightmare on Elm Street, and his newest favorite: anything by italian director Dario Argento. This means that I am now forced to watch even more crappy horror movies made in the seventies and eighties, two decades I hadn't minded leaving far behind me.

I can't help but think these kind of movies, especially in large amounts, are somehow spiritually damaging. And a minor point here, but ugh, the lousy production values! Yet at the same time, I am constantly looking for those activities which can be expanded on to turn into valuable teaching tools that will have a great positive impact on his future. As he quickly progresses through his teenage years, this becomes more crucial to me all the time. And how much censorship should I exercise at this age? How do I help him cultivate good judgment? The control freak in me wants to steer him out of this cess pool as fast as I can muster. The good parent in me wants to find some redeeming educational value in this pile of crap.

My efforts so far have included introduction to Alfred Hitchcock (he complained that most of the time, Hitchcock tells you "whodunit" too close to the beginning of the flick) classics, which netted some agreement between us that Psycho was a good movie. This led to his reading of the book on which the movie was based, and the crowning achievement of a voluntarily written book review which he was eager to post online. I should mention here that although I have forced him to sign up for myspace, blogger and goodreads.com, he is an extremely reluctant user of all three. My heart swelled tonight when he requested that I help him enter a review of Psycho onto goodreads. YAY!

But I still feel like there's a long way to go. I tried turning him on to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, and the book just sat there for the three week check out period until I dutifully returned it to the library at due date. Still, there are other signs of progress. On our camping vacation, he begged me to let him bring an Agathe Christie book he didn't want to put on "pause." I had actually discouraged him from bringing a bunch of "filler" materials with him since I wanted him to take advantage of all the activities offered at camp (for which we were PAYING). I conceded that he could bring a book or two, it was a long car ride.

Yesterday when I asked him to please read the last autobiography I finished about an extraordinary man with aspergers, he asked if he could please wait until he was done with Clock of Doom by Paul Stewart. I'm thinking that's at least a step up from Halloween. I was so proud as he explained to me the significance of clocks commonly used as symbols in horror plots. He has also shown an surprising fascination with house music lately, which I discovered is in most of the soundtracks of the cruddy movies he likes. I would like to build on that too (it would be easier if I could tolerate it myself). So all told, we have elements of art, drama, music, writing, filmmaking and higher quality reading. I should be able to expand out from there, don't you think?

Next, I was thinking of introducing him to Stephen King and Dean Koontz. Is eleven too young to be exposed to Stephen King? That is our best guess of T's emotional/social age. I would think that a lot of people would agree that Stephen King has critical acclaim and some serious financial success. I've used his artistic interests against him as he hates to leave the house, but has grudingly taken part in free community art classes I have found here and there all summer. I only wish I had been more organized to take advantage of some of the free drama and film/podcasting classes around here as well, but hopefully they won't decrease in popularity before next summer.

If I could have gotten his medical assistance in order, I would have had access to other beneficial therapies as well. Like I said before, next year. I'm just so afraid to run out of time for entitled resources. We are always pressed for time. T, like a lot of aspies, and like his mommy, is a "night" person, so that makes things a little more challenging to find that mesh with our schedules. One of the toughest aspects is his lack of social skills. The older he gets, the more capability is expected from him by outsiders. Inclusion is a lot easier for my little one; random adults are much less forgiving of mental challenges in a non exclusive setting.

Well I just keep hoping and praying and searching; letting go by inches and sometimes feet.

As a side note, here is his review of Psycho, the book:

"I have always heard about the movie with the same title, that it's so great. But I only recently have heard that it was based on a novel. I really liked the book, I thought it was very good. It was a bit different from the movel; for example, it went much more in depth about Norman Bates' psychological struggle and how difficult his life was. In the movie, Norman seems like a nice guy, but in the book he was much more pitiful. I was amazed at how a deep nasty secret is revealed after someone else commits a small crime. It was very unexpected, and I really like that. In one sense, you could tell that something bad was on the verge of happening, but you would never guess how extreme it was going to be. This is so much more than a horror story, it's a deep psychological thriller."

And he gave it five starts out of five. Not too shabby for someone who has extreme trouble expressing himself in writing.

blogging at gunpoint

I was home schooled until fifth grade when I started a cyber charter. I got sick all the time when I was little, so my mom decided to take me out of regular school. Plus she had started to suspect that I would have a hard time in regular school, what with having to sit at a desk and all, and follow rules, and try to learn things by intuition. So when I was 12, she had me tested at the cyber school and they said I should be in seventh grade instead. They decided on sixth. I didn't care, I had no idea what it meant to be in a certain grade. It was hard, since I still couldn't write. I don't just mean I didn't know how to compose, I mean I had a hard time taking a pen and physically making the letters. I am left handed, but so what. I really don't know why, I would draw constantly all day long. I still have a hard time writing, but I can really use a keyboard.

I liked the cyber school when I could do it, but I hated it when I couldn't do it. Some stuff was easy and some stuff was hard. It was really different from home schooling. IF I had the choice to go back to home schooling, I would. But now I have to think about what I need for college; for some reason though I have no desire to go to a regular school with a regular classroom, I have always believed that I should go to college.

After a few months at the cyber school, there was a health class resource called Brainpop that I used all the time, even just for fun. I was reading about symptoms of a thing called autism, and I thought, wow that sounds like me. And that sounds like me. And that sounds like me. Me me me. In fact, I thought, why don't they have my picture in there? So I asked my mom if she had ever heard of autism, and she started laughing. That's how I found out I was autistic. I guess she didn't think there was any reason to tell me, kind of like when you find out that Santa Claus doesn't really exist.

I think it might have been nice if I had known sooner, just so I could understand why I was weird. But I will leave those details for another post. I don't really like blogging. I don't even like myspace, or email, even though I am a teenager. But I'm supposed to do this as therapy, because I avoid communicating with people. Bah humbug. But I love the internet. I like youtube the most. I will make my own videos someday, and then maybe I can stop blog writing. That's all for today.