We are being tested

Kiddos in Minnesota are undergoing MCA's -- Minnesota Comprehensive Assessments.
So are their parents.
This testing is comprehensive.
As you can see from the graph above, it has taken a toll on Elmer's mood.
Mine, too. As he yelled at me this morning, I asked "Does this help you feel better?"
"Yes," he exploded.
I am sucking up and dealing.
How do you cope with school testing?

Message in a bottle

Elmer's on a bike ride.

He may be functioning beautifully in junior high.

On the trap team and out in the world.

But the kid can't spell.

At all.

My sister-in-law tells me that two of her "neuro-typical" kids can't spell either, so maybe there is something other than autism going on here.

Still, Elmer get credit for trying not once, but twice to write a message

And for getting out there on his bik.

Autism Awareness Month

Hours of the day an auti-mom is aware of autism: 24
Number of things parents of a child with autism will try: Infinite

Lifetime cost of care for person with autism: $3.2 million

Caring for all people with autism over their lifetime: $35 billion per year

Knowing that autism is caused by a combination of genetic and environmental factors: Painful

Autism Awareness Month: Worthless

Post-script:

To be fair, I want to link to this Voices of Autism piece that appeared in today's New York Time. This has value.

When autistic behavior is misunderstood | Washington Times Communities

When autistic behavior is misunderstood | Washington Times Communities

How well we know. And understand.

Brace yourselves

Image via Wikipedia

It's B-day for Elmer. Getting braces on.

The boy was so anxious he couldn't function.

Didn't bathe, go to school, brush teeth, or have normal conversation.

Thirty minutes before the appointment, I convinced him to swallow half a xanax.

(leftover from the not-so-long-ago-high-anxiety years.)

He's a cool customer now, stretched out in the ortho chair.

So next time, I'm taking a xanax, too.

Certified

Tonight at the gun range, Elmer passed his field test.

Naturally he was first at the range. Itching to go, that's my boy.

He made it through four three-hour night classes, involving lots of sitting.

And he stayed focused, did his homework, was the star pupil. He was consistent, persistent, conscientious, focused, and proud. Hooray for him.

Einstein's Momma

Image via Wikipedia

So Elmer, as I've recently posted, is doing verrry well.
Troubled-ly well.
Which is not a word. But gets at what I'm feeling.
First, the Jr High Principal introduced herself and told me what a pleasure it was to have Elmer in her school; "I've listened to him in class and he is profound."
If I hadn't been so stunned, I would have wept.
Last night, I drove Elmer to session 1 of his Firearms Safety Class, where he soared over the class like a witty Albert Einstein, displaying an encyclopedic knowledge of firearms, including their history and workings. He made smart, allegorical jokes, to boot.
I'd never seen this.
I've done this; it's who I am and how I operate. But Elmer and I have been in Holland, remember? Not among the eggheads at Harvard or the University of Chicago.
So praise the lord, right?
Here's where the troubled-ness comes in: he's not at Harvard or the University of Chicago. He's among kids who are struggling to remember the "Al McTarget" acronym of gun safety rules. So I'm afraid he's gonna be shot down like Icarus (who flew too close to the sun.)
I don't want to spoil his fun and he has a right to enjoy knowledge.
But I, who grew up without peers, out-of-place in a bad public school, know about the hits you can take when you fly too high.
Well, he's a big boy. I think he can take it. The question is, can I?