Manny the Bear came home from preschool on Thursday. Manny was put down by the front door when we got home that day. And there Manny stayed, all nice and cozy, in his giant blue flower backpack. For four days.
Manny is the Build-A-Bear teddy bear that makes the rounds throughout the school year. Every week he is sent home with a different child in the class, complete with changes of clothes, a bed, books, and toiletries. The kids are supposed to take Manny around with them over the weekend like he’s a member of the family. And before he returns to school, the child is supposed to draw a picture of something they did with Manny, and then the parents write a description of the illustration.
Yeah. That didn’t happen.
This isn’t the first time we’ve had Manny visit us. Manny came to stay a few months ago when he was making his first go-around with the class. I was all gung-ho then. Howie and I took Manny out of his backpack, changed his clothes into pajamas, and set up his bed on the floor next to Howie’s. We even pretended to brush his teeth. Then I got all nervous that something would happen to this precious bear if he was on the floor (dog eating/shedding on it, Lewis pulling the arms off or swinging it around, Howie stepping on it during one of his several night-wakings, etc.). So I put Manny up on the dresser, and he stayed there until the weekend was over. That time the assignment was to take a picture of your kid doing something with Manny, so Tim and I hastily took some pictures the morning before Howie brought him back to school. One quick click and there’s Manny and Howie sitting in the chair watching a show. Assignment complete.
This time, I didn’t even read the book to find out about the drawing assignment until Sunday evening, when Tim asked me if we were ever planning on taking Manny out of his bag. Since Monday was a holiday, I figured we still had plenty of time.
Monday came and went. Manny stayed in the backpack.
Monday night I asked Howie if he wanted to draw his picture of Manny, since he had to go back to school Tuesday morning.
“No.”, came the answer. And I didn’t push it.
Tuesday morning I called the school and asked if we could keep Manny one more day.
Tuesday came and went. Manny stayed in the backpack.
But that bear was on my mind all day. I passed by that bag every time I went to the bathroom. Shouldn’t I at least open it up and give him some air? But then something would distract me and I’d move on.
As we celebrated my birthday Tuesday night, I asked Howie if he wanted to take Manny out to celebrate with us.
“No.”, came the answer. And that was that. Once this kid decides he’s not doing something (or eating something, or going somewhere), that’s it. You cannot change his mind.
This morning, it was time to return Manny. And still we had nothing to show for his stay here. I pulled the binder out of his bag (still leaving Manny in there) and dragged Howie over the to table.
“We have to draw a picture of Manny. Let’s draw him with birthday balloons for my birthday.”
(Tim said I should have told Howie to draw a stick figure of himself next to Manny’s bag. In hindsight, not a bad idea.)
“But it’s not your birthday anymore!”, cried Howie, which sent him into a tizzy of complaints about not having had any cupcakes for my “party”. And cries of sadness over not getting any presents for my birthday.
“I’m going to draw squiggle words. It says Happy Birthday Mom thanks for stealing someone else’s birthday.” (please don’t ask me what that means) And he proceeded to take the crayon and just draw wavy lines in the box on the paper. And then he turned to me and smiled.
“Howie, the directions on your homework say DRAW a picture. It says it right here. That is not a picture”. I handed him a fresh piece of paper.
“Stop trying to make me hate you!”
And with that, we were done. I don’t know where he’s heard those words before, but he pulled that script out just at the right time. I closed up the binder that had all the other kids’ pictures of Manny and silently put it back in the backpack. With Manny. Howie ran off to run laps around the house with his brother.
His teacher happened to call at that moment about something else, and I shared the story of Manny with her. She told me not to worry about it, they would ask him at school if he wanted to do it there and if not, it was no big deal.
No big deal. To them. But this was clearly about me.
I felt guilty that Manny had stayed in his backpack all weekend. Our life is so chaotic that adding one more member – even a stuffed furry one – would have thrown me over the edge. I can barely get my kids dressed some days. Dressing a bear was not going to happen.
I felt guilty that we didn’t lead the kind of life that lends itself well to a drawing. Other kids had Manny going to work with their dads, visiting restaurants, and sleeping in their beds. We didn’t set foot outside the house all weekend long. Manny didn’t set foot outside the bag.
I felt guilty that I was longing for the kind of life where my kid could sit down and draw a picture of something wonderful that we all did with his classroom bear. This is a kid who has just started to hold a pencil the right way. I started to panic about homework – even though real homework is still years away. I already battle with my oldest about it. I can’t even imagine how challenging this will be for Howie.
And I felt guilty for making him feel bad about what he did do on that paper. We had nothing to draw for Manny, so making something up made no sense to him. The wavy lines represented words, and that’s what he wanted. What was wrong with that? Nothing, except that I didn’t want the other parents to see his squiggles. Because I didn’t want them to wonder why my kid couldn’t draw a bear.
I can write all I want here about how I’ve come to terms with Howie’s diagnosis, and I’m okay with it all. But sometimes when I see what other kids and families can do, I’m reminded of how different we really are.
Howie clearly knew what he was able to do. For me, the battle over what we can and can’t do as a family will rage on for years to come.
“People I know, places I go, make me feel tongue-tied
I can see how people look down, they’re on the inside
Here’s where the story ends
People I see, weary of me showing my good side
I can see how people look down
I’m on the outside
Here’s where the story ends
Ooh here’s where the story ends” – Here’s Where the Story Ends by The Sundays
January 19, 2011 at 2:03 pm
{{{hugs}}}
We had to do something similar with Julia’s class bear last year. PJ… I felt the same way, and we did the same thing. It is what it is, and again, your kids aren’t “missing” anything. Is it different for your family than others? Yes. But your family is exactly what your kids need it to be, and you are the mother they need, and your doing the job they need, WHICH IS OUTSTANDING!
I’m not exactly one to talk, as guilt has a pretty tight hold on me as well, but you know I do think that guilt is highly over rated. 🙂
Chin up. You’re the best!!!
January 19, 2011 at 3:33 pm
guilt will never go away. the Jewish mom in me can’t let it go 🙂
thank you for the support as always!!
January 19, 2011 at 2:14 pm
Sigh. That was ouchy, and honest. I don’t think there is such a thing as Acceptance, but lots of little acceptances. This is another one. There’ll be more. Hopefully it gets easier over time. Big hugs.
If we were the family, there’d have been a fight over the bear, who would have been damaged. Pictures of Pudding putting her brother’s diaper on the bear, 67 times. And then a meltdown over having to return it.
January 19, 2011 at 3:34 pm
thank you. I like the idea of the little “a” in acceptance and not the big “A”. thanks for the support. I’m sure it will get better.
January 19, 2011 at 2:18 pm
Oof. This really hits a nerve today. I’m stuck in the same loop lately and it makes me weepy and anxious and so unsettled that I can’t imagine I’m any fun to be around; I don’t like myself much when I’m in this space. BUT…I have to honor it’s truth so I can move on. Or at least set it aside for a while. I suspect it will keep sneaking back to settle around me.
You are not alone and we both can hold on to the knowledge that it’s not a permanent condition. Right? (Please say “right!” ?)
January 19, 2011 at 3:35 pm
Right. Of course right. And I’m so glad you’re on this journey with me, because I think the same things hit our nerves.
January 19, 2011 at 2:18 pm
If it makes you feel any better, we had a similar experience with Zomina the elephant. Zomina sat in the grass in my front year for over two weeks. I had to snap some quick pictures of it in a tree and make liam hold it. He didn’t want to write or say a thing about that elephant.
January 19, 2011 at 3:36 pm
that does make me feel better! What is it about these projects that bring such angst?
January 19, 2011 at 2:30 pm
With three boys, I cringe every time one of those dumb school projects comes home. None of my boys like to do the drawing/writing/playing with whatever object it is. Personally, I think you went above and beyond the call of duty to even ask to keep it another day. Good for you! (And I am not being sarcastic here.) Some kids thrive on those little activities…mine don’t. My autistic son is now 10 and we have gotten past some of the sillier activities in school, and can focus on more academic activities…where Alex thrives. Don’t beat yourself up for being the family that you are. Don’t be ashamed/sorry/embarrassed/etc. I have come to terms with the fact that we are who we are, and if people don’t like it, well, maybe I don’t like them too much either. You have my acceptance! Jennifer
January 19, 2011 at 3:37 pm
thank you! you said it much better than I did. 🙂
I look forward to the day when the pressure to compare goes away.
January 19, 2011 at 2:48 pm
I remember meeting Manny on one of my visits to the house – I think Manny appreciated the quiet time and the solitude he enjoyed at your house. Do not apologize for giving Manny and your boys what they need – your thoughtfulness!
January 19, 2011 at 3:37 pm
maybe I should have crawled in the bag with Manny!
January 19, 2011 at 4:10 pm
That made me laugh out loud (for real)!
January 19, 2011 at 3:11 pm
Those “send home friends” suck.
I have absolutly no recollection of what the other kids in the stupid “album” did, but I do remember feeling the same way about those fur-covered-bags-of-germs. When my second kid hit second grade I am not ashamed to say I suggested that the “send-home-friend” be retired…at parents night q&a…and I may have thrown in a head lice scare too. He’s almost 15 now and I still can’t stand the idea of those assignments.
January 19, 2011 at 3:38 pm
can I tell you I love you? 🙂 the head lice thing is perfect. I may be using that…
January 19, 2011 at 3:31 pm
Thanks for sharing your tale in such an honest way. I think all of us parents with a kidlet (or more) on the spectrum can relate. I know I can. Several of the things that Howie said, sound mighty familiar. And yes, as accepting as I am about the diagnosis and the differences in our lives, sometimes when those differences are layed side by side (in a binder), it can be tough. And I try to remember there are many families that our lives are not so different from and I go spend some time on their blogs & chat on Twitter & say hello! Glad you tweeted, so I could come say hi to you! :>
January 19, 2011 at 3:41 pm
that is exactly it. In my little world, I can see the successes and milestones measured by my standards. Laid out in a binder – it’s harder to ignore what the other kids are doing. I’m glad you stopped by too – you put the feeling into words perfectly.
January 19, 2011 at 3:57 pm
You are not alone. My little guy is now in first grade, but last year the kindergarten had a visiting bear. The issue in this house was that in order to take bear home, your name needed to be pulled out of a hat at morning circle time. Caleb did not have his diagnosis last year, therefore had no classroom modifications in place. Every time his name was pulled, the excitement or the unknown or some other factor would result in a major melt down on his part. His teacher strongly felt that misbehavior and bear did not go together. I could tell at pick up that something was terribly wrong. Caleb, thru his sobs would cry, “I failed again.” My heart broke for him over and over. By spring we knew we were dealing with Asperger’s and this year he has a 1:1 aide and many, many supports and modifactions. The road is bumpy for sure, but hang in. It does get better.
January 19, 2011 at 4:08 pm
oh my goodness, my heart just broke with this story. the poor guy! I’m so glad he had the supports he needs now (and hopefully a different teacher?) My older son had that same arrangement in his preschool with taking home live animals. SOOOO happy that’s not a choice this year. I hated when it was our turn to have the turtle. Too much pressure to keep it alive.
Thank you SO much for sharing your story. It helps a lot.
My son’s teacher is very laid back about the whole bear thing, but I still feel the pressure and the comparison to the other kids.
January 19, 2011 at 4:11 pm
I think the teacher “failed” that day!
January 20, 2011 at 12:41 am
My heart broke here, too. I think this is so hard for kids who get later diagnoses, whose teachers are constantly misinterpreting things as willful misbehavior that are so clearly not. A more sensitive teacher might also have picked up on that anyway. But thank goodness your son now has the support he needs!
January 21, 2011 at 12:20 am
That is an awful experience, at least now there is very little chance this will happen again but what an absolutely excruciating experience for your son and for you. I can really imagine what that was like for you all, the same would happen in our house.
February 24, 2011 at 7:41 pm
Oh how horrible!
My son would have had a meltdown every time his name wasn’t picked – competition is our enemy. 😦
January 19, 2011 at 4:22 pm
Big hugs. We haven’t done this yet (though we did with our oldest and did very little with it to be fair) but I know how those moments creep up on you and slap you in the face! Jen
January 20, 2011 at 2:02 pm
thanks Jen. It’s nice to know that the same feelings creep up in other people’s houses too.
January 19, 2011 at 7:30 pm
For us, it was Flat Stanley. I love the stories of Flat Stanley, but when my 2nd grade niece sent my 2nd grade daughter a Flat Stanley and the request to take pictures of places he goes and write about them, I recognized this as homework for ME, not my daughter whose English writing skills were non-existent. Just what I wanted… homework. In the end, I battled with Hebrew and my daughter’s teacher battled with English and I kind of got her to understand why I was visiting her class with a camera and a flat boy. And thanks to a trip to the town we intended to move to, we pulled something together that looked far more exciting than it really was. And Google docs meant I could put it together into a neat project the day before they NEEDED Stanley’s adventures back! What pressure the teachers place on the parents!
January 20, 2011 at 2:03 pm
ah, Flat Stanley…
What an interesting story! I try to see it from the teacher’s view – something fun for the kids to do, but at this age it is more for the parents. And sometimes it’s just too much.
January 19, 2011 at 8:18 pm
Wow! Great post! Nothing like an experience to remind you that your family is so NOT normal. I totally get it!
Kelly
http://www.ourordinaryday.wordpress.com
January 20, 2011 at 2:05 pm
thank you! and thanks for visiting here. Your blog is awesome!
January 19, 2011 at 9:33 pm
Eli’s preschool teacher did that too. Rainbow bear one year and Sunshine bear the next. Oh how I hated seeing those bears pop out of his backpack. Sometimes we got pictures of the bear hanging out with us. Most of the time the bear stared at me from the couch, begging for someone, ANYONE to pay him some attention. I was always jealous of what other families did with the bear. I am happy that kindergarten doesn’t do bears!!!!!
January 20, 2011 at 2:06 pm
Heather – I can just imagine that bear staring back at you! thanks for sharing that with me. I can’t wait to see what is in store for us for kindergarten!
January 19, 2011 at 10:27 pm
Oh Alysia, as you say, it is not the big things that bother me about how different my son can sometimes be, but the little things, the minutiae of life that help us form the picture of what we imagined/hoped/dreamed our family life might be like. To me, sometimes these little differences are a slap in the face and it can be hard to pick myself back up.
But, like so many other mums, I find a way to keep trying, keep going, keep hoping.
It still hurts, I still have to work at making this feeling ‘fit’ with all the other demands and expectations. Just knowing you aren’t alone is sometimes what helps the most.
January 20, 2011 at 2:07 pm
that is totally it. it’s the small things. the big stuff I can anticipate.
thank you for your support always.
January 19, 2011 at 10:44 pm
I have that project guilt all the time. Now I just silently (okay, sometimes out loud to someone, hopefully my hubs is listening so I’m not talking to myself)…ahem…now I just laugh and question who they think they’re sending these things home with and just who do they think will be doing the work. (My son’s CP makes it so that drawing much more than a 2 year old’s scribble is far-fetched). Yet, they still send it. Yet, I still wonder why they try to torture us so…
January 20, 2011 at 2:08 pm
thank you for sharing that. I know they do it because they want the kids to be included and they think it’s fun, but it is harder on us parents, especially when the day-to-day is hard itself.
and I’m glad I’m not the only one who talks out loud!
January 19, 2011 at 11:42 pm
First of all…..GORGEOUS child 🙂
Secondly….your heart must have felt ripped apart by the whole scenario. I agree with most of the other commenters and I HATE those kind of projects. THey just point out how “different” your child is.
Ugh.
But remember that YOUR child has an amazingly compassionate and awesome mother 🙂
January 20, 2011 at 2:09 pm
awww…seriously Fi you just made my day…
January 20, 2011 at 12:50 am
Alysia, what a brave, honest post! This brings up so much for me, all my tiny daily “failures.” Sometimes, when I write about all I am doing for Jake I feel a fraud, because I know all the ways I am NOT doing all I could, how there’s always something more. I am that mom who is always writing a note to her sons’ teachers about how the homework did not all get done and that it is MY fault, because it always is. Because it is always a struggle to get my kids to do it and some days I just don’t have the fortitude. We have a small apartment, the only place to do homework AND to play (AND to eat dinner) is pretty much the living room. And Ethan can’t do homework with Jake in the living room because Jake is too loud and distracting, and by the time Jake gets to bed its too late and Ethan is without patience. Crap. I try not to think about this, but it sucks. And I clearly have to find a better system to put in place.
Um, I guess this is my long-winded way of saying “you are not alone.”
January 20, 2011 at 2:11 pm
thanks Varda. I think we have a lot of the same issues. My oldest can’t do his homework with me (or near me) because his brother’s behaviors distract him so much. I too have to find a better way, but I haven’t found it yet. And I know it will get harder once they are both doing homework. But like you, I just don’t have it in me right now to think it all through.
But we’ll figure it out. Actually I’m hoping YOU figure it out and I can steal it 🙂
January 20, 2011 at 11:50 am
Alysia, thanks for sharing this and being so honest about your feelings. I know so many of us have had those SAME feelings – I know I have! – about comparisons between what we feel about our special families and what we perceive about other “normal” families. I think I will be struggling with that for years to come as well.
I got a chuckle out of taking a quick snapshot of Manny and Howie watching cartoons together at the last minute, because that SO would have been me! HA!
Homework is tough. Our oldest (with the SPD, and an almost-diagnosis for Aspergers), is having a really hard time with homework. It’s such a struggle for all of us to get him through it, weekly. It’s exhausting! You are definitely not alone in the Homework H-E-double hockey sticks category either ; )
January 20, 2011 at 2:12 pm
thanks Jaimee! I know we are going through a lot of the same stuff with our boys. The struggle will always be there. It’s just figuring out how to get through it…
January 20, 2011 at 3:21 pm
I love this post! Thanks for sharing. Just wait until the class mascot is a LIVE animal like one of the classes at my kids’ school! PLEASE write about that experience, too!
January 20, 2011 at 3:26 pm
Thanks! We have had that before – with my oldest. He brought home a turtle and hermit crabs. each time I thought we were going to kill it somehow. THAT was pressure!
January 20, 2011 at 8:08 pm
OK, so sometimes I say “great post” and I really don’t mean it…but oh my this really is a great post. I LOVE it. It is so my life and my feelings about this. I went through the guilt when my daughter was just in preschool for God’s sake. Now I’m having a honeymoon (self-contained, private school, no homework) but it is just a temporary situation. She will probably get transitioned to general ed in the fall and then I’m back in normie land. Ugh.
January 21, 2011 at 7:41 am
Thanks Lynn!! That means a lot!
I hope your daughter’s teachers next year are awesome and work with you both to make the transition easy and figure out what is best for you all.
January 20, 2011 at 10:59 pm
I can understand your feelings about being different from all the other families, but I see the differece in a good way. I’m on the spectrum, and I relate so much to Howie, and I see his response as a positive.
People often think that Autistic kids don’t know how to play, but it’s not true. We just have a different kind of play. I had a very rich interior life. And I was fascinated beyond words by the mysteries of things. I just wasn’t into pretending that inanimate objects live and breathe, that a banana is a telephone you can call grandpa on, or that Barbie and Ken were actually dating. What’s wrong with that? I was into the magic of the real world. I still am. Not that I don’t enjoy certain kinds of fiction. I love a good movie. I love a good novel. I even have a master’s degree in English literature. But when my NT daughter was young, I had a very hard time with pretend play.
When I was a kid and someone tried to do a Manny kind of thing with me, I’d go ahead and do it the first time, feeling that the adults had some good reason and I should follow along. But the second, third, fourth, and umpteenth time, I kept feeling like, “Why are you treating me like a baby? I mean, come on. A stuffed bear comes from a factory. End of story. Besides, there are so many interesting and beautiful and miraculous things in the world. Do we really have to pretend that the bear has feelings? And teeth that need brushing? Please stop insulting me. Seriously.”
It’s okay that your family is how it is. Personally, I think you’re ahead of the curve in some ways. So take that Jewish mother guilt to the trash heap where it belongs. (Yes! It’s possible! I did it! I swear! It’s gone! I looked, and I can’t find it anywhere!)
January 21, 2011 at 7:43 am
Rachel – your perspective is SO helpful here! I didn’t really think about any of that. And I’m sure that’s why he couldn’t (or wouldn’t) draw something with that bear that didn’t happen. It didn’t make sense. Stuffed animals just aren’t his thing anyway, so there was little enthusiasm about the whole Manny thing to begin with.
And I appreciate the Jewish mother’s guilt thing. Can it really go away? can I tell that to my mom? 🙂
January 21, 2011 at 8:22 am
Yes, the Jewish mother guilt really can go away. It’s another one of the miraculous things in the real world that make pretend play so unnecessary. 🙂
Maybe being on the spectrum helps me here, because once I got it clear in my mind that guilt is a completely useless emotion, my pragmatic side kicked in and I said, “Well, if it’s useless, why would I want anything to do with it?”
The same thing happened a few years ago when a friend told me that the Buddhists say that comparing oneself to others is the hell-realm. I thought, “I don’t want to go THERE!”
January 21, 2011 at 12:00 pm
oh I like that! I will try it (can’t promise that I’ll succeed though 🙂 )
January 21, 2011 at 2:24 am
Ack. Sorry. I know this too well. But I’ll have to think hard on my memories (harder than I can this late at night) and come up with something better for you. Because it does get better.
January 21, 2011 at 7:43 am
thank you 🙂
January 21, 2011 at 10:13 am
I hate assignments like that! I don’t even do them for my typical kids. I have three too many children to care about that. Of course, I am the mother who at parent/teacher conferences says things like “I don’t think elementary school homework is important.”
January 21, 2011 at 11:59 am
oh thank you! I have to know, what do the teachers say???
January 22, 2011 at 8:45 am
Seriously. This is PRESCHOOL we’re talking about?!!! Lemme tell those teachers a little sumpin’. NO HOMEWORK. And a DRAWING assignment?! That’s ridiculous. IT’S PRESCHOOL!! It’s supposed to be about PLAYING!! And I will shout that to them if you’d like. Or I’ll shout it to you as often as you want. IT’S ABOUT PLAYING. Forget about all the other stuff.
January 24, 2011 at 1:29 pm
I knew I could count on you! 🙂
January 22, 2011 at 8:57 pm
Don’t worry, we are that family too. I had all these ideals, especially when I was a teacher, that I would be that mom and we would be that family. But guess what, last week i was franctically forcing my screaming ASD 4 year old to color, glue, and glitter a craft project that was due when I brought him to school in 5 minutes.
I know how you feel, I am so at ease with my son’s diagnosis too, but it still is hard. My sister has 3 neurotypical kids and I would be totally lying if I didn’t say I was jealous sometimes…OK, a lot.
January 24, 2011 at 1:30 pm
ah, thank you for sharing from both the teacher and parent perspective. I know it’s supposed to be fun and no big deal, it’s just not always easy to have that fun with it no big deal.
and I appreciate the jealousy factor too. a lot.
January 25, 2011 at 5:21 pm
Last summer, Bear’s daycare sent home an assignment to have them decorate a page themed on a favorite family activity so they could post them on the wall and have the class talk about them. At first I couldn’t even think of anything – I mean, is OT a family activity? Cause that’s all we have time for. And the idea of him appropriately participating in the actual decorating was a joke. It was the first time I really had to come to terms with the idea he wasn’t able to do the same things as his peers.
February 15, 2011 at 4:42 pm
You brought back bad memories of my daughter’s pre-school days. We had a stuffed black cat that we had to bring home three times. Plus her school picked kids drawings to go on their weekly chapel programs. Hers never made it. We didn’t have a diagnosis then so I really felt like a failure as a parent.
The nice thing is now she gets better grades in school than most of those children and she is much nicer than some of them too. It does get better!
February 18, 2011 at 1:52 pm
Well like the saying:”Pick your battles” and this assignment was not one of them. You can only do so much.
On the teacher’s side, she/he has to cater to the parents who demand “homework from day ONE” and probably loved this activity.
A note or call to the teacher explaining your situation might be all that is needed to allow you to make the decisions regarding homework at such an early age.
February 24, 2011 at 7:46 pm
As a non-creative person myself, I HATE stuff like this. I have gotten to the point now that my son is a bit older that we either do the assignment but with whatever his take is on it or I send a note explaining why it didn’t work out for him.
March 1, 2011 at 6:05 pm
[…] to aid her son in learning his math and encouraging him to read.Homework. Alysia Butler presents Here’s Where the Story Ends posted at Try Defying Gravity. She documents the difficulty surrounding her son completing a simple […]