So there we were, the three of us, in Target with the school supply list from Schuyler's new middle school. There weren't any particularly horrific items listed (no $1300 marimbas, for example), but one item gave us pause.
The scientific calculator.
It wasn't terribly expensive -- about ten bucks -- but we have a pretty good idea of what Schuyler is capable mathwise. We also knew that Pinkessa, her speech device, has a scientific calculator on it. We had a pretty realistic sense of how frequently this ten dollar scientific calculator was likely to ever be used.
And we bought it anyway.
In the end, it was an easy choice, once we talked through it a bit. We'll burn ten dollars rather than try to reconcile being the parents who decided that our daughter will never be capable of using the same calculator as her classmates. We'll spend that money that we could certainly use elsewhere so that Schuyler has the same calculator as everyone else, rather than the one on her speech prosthesis, the device that gives her a measure of expressive freedom but also reminds the world "I'm broken."
Sometimes overbelieving means spending money for a principle, one that says Schuyler should start off the year with the same tools and the same possibilities as everyone else. It's the same reason we politely declined the school's offer to give her a special locker without a lock on it, despite the trouble she had with the one that was assigned to her when we tried it at orientation.
She begins middle school next week, and I'm terrified for her. I have less faith in the decisions we've made for her that led up to this point than ever before. The fact that I'm even writing about this might be a good indication that I'm overthinking as well as overbelieving.
Well, anyway, there it is. Schuyler has a calculator now, one that those of us who know her best can scarcely imagine her using. But it'll be there, sitting in her bitch of a locker, if she needs it. We can do that much for her.
Also, she found a pink one. Well, of course she did.
20 comments:
My son also starts middle school next week, and I'm terrified to send my not quite 50 pound angel into a pit of preteens triple his size. For years, we've sent the Boy with the requisite 500 sheets of notebook paper even though he can barely write. It's on the list. The anxiety not sticking to the list would cause him isn't worth it.
Can you supply your own lock? Our school's locks are half broken, so half the kids have to bring their own and they have some new kinds of locks that use words or up/down/right/left.
Damn straight Rob! She should have everything else, because, what if she does use it? What if she learns one thing using it? Two things? A myriad of things? What if the calculator somehow leads to a friend who helps her in math class? One never knows.
My gal starts 9th grade High School next week. She may not be able to make change from a dollar, but damn straight she has a new TI-84 graphing calculator. This is serious, cause they don't even come in pink :0).
Just did the exact same thing for my daughter who begins middle school after Labor Day. Pink scientific calculator -even though she'll be in remedial math. You're right, it was a no brainer. Who knows, maybe we'll both end up being surprised by what they can do with it!
Rob, I know you are not a big fan of prayer, but it is what I believe in so I will say a prayer for Schuyler to have a terrific start to middle school, and for you and Julie to feel peace about it as she heads out the door. I have become fond of you guys after reading for so long. :-)
Carrie T. - mom to 4 adopted from S. Korea, including a daughter with SNs
I know my opinion is in no way required but, I'm glad you're those kinds of parents.
Hey, calculators are damn important!
I´m still using the one I got, when I was 13, at work.
Though those new thingies with graph drawing and everything are just beyond me.
I'm a math teacher, and I think getting her that calculator was the best thing ever. Even if she never uses it the way other kids do, it is a tool that she may find her own uses for that will connect her with the other kids. Like a rite of passage. Besides, every kid needs to try spelling "hello" on their calculator at least once....That is worth way more than $10.
Been following your blog for awhile and have read your book.
My son is 14 and visually impaired and uses a braillenote and a cane and they go everywhere with him.
While I appreciate and can relate to your angst over her fitting in I found one of your comments disturbing. "We'll spend that money....so that Schuyler has the same calculator as everyone else, rather than the one on her speech prosthesis, the device that gives her a measure of expressive freedom but also reminds the world "I'm broken."
And maybe it's a larger sense of being uncomfortable with your constant reference to your daughter as being 'broken'.
I don't see my son as 'broken' because he's blind. I've worked to instill in him self confidence and a sense of pride of who he is and the tools he uses to get along in the world: his cane and his braillenote.
And while the world may view my son as 'broken', my attitude and matter-of-fact nature with him is that his blindness is a fact of his life and doesn't make him any more or any less than anyone else. It just means he must learn skills to allow him an opportunity at the same level of 'normalcy' others just have by virtue of their sight.
I've also worked to instill and remind him he has an obligation (that, yeah, at times sucks and he may not want) to show to others through example these are devices he uses to be able to live in the world we all live in, and frankly, if others can't accept that, oh well.
And while I understand and agree with the comments that, of course, you give her the opportunity to learn to use that calculator like her classmates, there may come a point when you may have to come to accept either for practical reasons (lugging around her device and the calculator and the laptop and the....) or it's just easier to use her device and she may not get how to use the calculator, to accept it and let it go. I found with my son there were times, in the good intention of giving him the opportunity to use the same tools as the sighted, I put more pressure and stress on him and had to learn when to draw the line and let go (which isn't always easy).
With special needs parents sometimes I wonder if our effort to work to give our kids as much 'normalcy' is driven by our goal to give them every opportunity or just our own ego to make their uniqueness fit into just the every day 'normal' b/c we assume that it will make their life easier.
The common theme I find in your posts is your drive to getting the world to come to accept special needs kids (your frequent posts on 'retarded') but I wonder if your constant reference to her being 'broken' is helping in that effort or continuing to give others the excuse to NOT learn they're real people with real feelings just like everyone else.
Well, if there's one topic I've spoken about ad nauseum, it's my word usage, particularly "broken". I even link to it on the side bar. I think I'm going to let what I've said before stand.
...I wonder if your constant reference to her being 'broken' is helping in that effort or continuing to give others the excuse to NOT learn they're real people with real feelings just like everyone else.
I will say that I think People First Language is far more damaging to that cause than anything I've said or written. I believe that with all my heart.
I would like to correct what I believe to be a factual error on the part of a previous poster. I don't think reading and speaking are parallel activities. Reading is primarily a way of communicating to oneself. Reading braille with one's fingers has a pretty similar effect on one's mind as reading print with one's eyes. If a blind student is going to read they need to have access to braille texts and carrying a refreshable braille display such as a BrailleNote is more efficient than carrying embossed paper braille. However, if a braille-using student is reading the same information as their sighted peers, they can discuss this information via natural speech in a reciprocal manner.
The function of a speech device such as Pinkessa is very different from that of a braille display. It is used to communicate with other persons, not to oneself. It cannot avoid changing the nature of spoken communication. The person using the device speaks very differently from most listeners; in other words, the interaction is not reciprocal.
Oh oh penny. You have made a serious error. My daughter does not have special needs but she sure as heck made sure that her TI-84 was pink. They absolutely have pink ones. Don't worry I won't tell your daughter!
my LD son never used his middle school locker, ever. But, he wanted one.
He starts high school next week, and has not intention of ever using that locker, either.
and I can't use a sci calculator if you hold a gun to my head.
Yeah, I've never had cause to use one, either. Not ever. I don't even know how it works.
It actually drives me crazy when kids are don't get computer or calculator access in class, regardless of their level of ability...there's been research on how kids' skills with working through math problems improves when they have a calculator. If it takes an immense amount of effort to calculate by hand (fine motor, working memory, etc), then kids don't actually have the chance to *think* about what they're doing.
Off the soapbox, I worked with a teen who was hugely distracted by the crazy number of keys on her scientific calculator...carefully applied sparkles to the important keys solved the problem, and made her love the (pink, of course) calculator even more.
"Broken" ist the exact right word.
I have Ehelers-Danlos-Syndrome und Rheumatoid Arthritis (got it when I was 23) and broken is exactly what I describe myself as.
I´m not sick. I don´t feel like hiding in bed all the time, I´m not ill. I´m broken. My body just doesn´t work the way it should.
When I´m limping, my knees are shot again, or my ankles, or my hip.
But I work.
I wouldn´t work as well in construction, but I work in my given surroundings. And I will continue to do so. It wont get much worse, and any impairment not present yet will not make me lose my ability to do, what I do.
A broken car may not drive on the Highway, but it will work perfectly well as a playhouse.
And that´s how I see me.
Sick people can get better, broken people wont. But we wont get much worse either.
Your awesome Rob!! I too want my girl to have everything with the hope she will figure it out or a friend next too her will give her a helping hand. I love your perspective. I have a son 11 going into grade 6 he doesn't have a lock on his locker and he has no issues the teacher told the class in grade 5 using a lock is optional not all the kids do as it takes so long for them to unlock them.
Socol,
I don't know if your son is the 14 year old boy my daughter knows. But this boy is clearly being raised with the attitude you have instilled in your son and I will write as though it is your son. This attitude means the world...well at least the world of other 14 year olds... does not view him as broken, but just another kid who they know and like and want to hang out with.
And as Kat Haeske's comment illustrated, every person with a disability and every family has to choose the language that works for them.
I do want to say that I don't always think it's reasonable to expect typical classmates and friends to look on a kid with a disability as "just another kid", as if there is no impairment or disability. That's a beautiful idea, but for most kids, even the ones with disabilities, the true work comes in teaching others not to ignore a disability but to integrate it into their concept of what it means to be human.
That's a hard thing to do; it's complicated and it takes time. But I am really coming around to the reality that to know Schuyler is to know her monster. Whatever terminology you want to use for that difference, it still has to be faced, and acknowledged, not ignored.
It's about changing the world, not fooling it.
That's my opinion, anyway.
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