Distance Learning Can Wear on You
The assignments and the virtual meetings have multiplied. So have the inexplicable nicknames. When life's upended, it doesn't seem important to find out why Leah addresses her young, energetic, definitely female speech pathologist as 'Mr. Petrol.'
One of the things we like about Mr. Petrol is she recognizes when she has bigger fish to fry. Mr. Petrol has shown plenty of the flexibility we constantly try to instill in Leah. A speech session with a teenager trying to hide in her parents' bed? No biggie.
Distance learning isn't exactly a smash hit. To be fair, I'm not sure it's a hit with her teachers either. They didn't go into teaching because they wanted to impact students from their living rooms. Teachers identify days spent in classrooms of half-grown humans as their life's calling. And in Leah's case, her village has also committed to loving her even when she acts like she doesn't want to be loved by them.
The payoff is that Leah misses her village. Not enough to happily comply with much of the work they're sending, but enough that there's genuine joy in her eyes when she greets them online. Her virtual homeroom meeting last Friday was the highlight of her week. And I kind of understand about the work. As I've mentioned before, she isn't earning a diploma. When assignments arrive, I evaluate them with my own criteria: If I'm going to spend half a morning managing resistance behaviors before Leah collaborates (don't forget, 'cooperate' is a no-no word around here), is the work worth the angst? Leah's reading level isn't going to change unless she wants it to, and she isn't interested.
Instead I've been mining her Google classroom content for assignments I can parlay into functional skills. Readings about phone manners turned into prank calls to her sisters (so yes, sometimes things take a bit of a turn). Bottom line, I realized quickly that I need something else to fill her time, especially in light of the official word that Maryland schools are done with in-person instruction for the year.
How you can help with our new project
Since the virtual classroom isn't enticing for Leah, I'm going to engage her in a project that furthers her job skills, with a t-shirt fundraiser. The quote on the shirt front, which will be Leah's favorite shade of blue, is one of her most memorable: One morning while she was in elementary school, Leah wasn't feeling the three Rs. When prompted to get started, she told them, "No work today. Thanks for asking!"
Under current conditions, that quote belongs on a shirt. Leah is all of us.
Here's how the fundraiser will work:
Preorders are due on Friday, May 15. Use this Google form to order.
When the shirts are printed, Leah will work on sorting, folding, and preparing them for delivery – by hand if you're local; by mail if not (shipping is free).
Proceeds will benefit Itineris Baltimore, a nonprofit that also happens to be the only adult service agency in Maryland that specializes in autism. We are seeking only to recoup our costs. A few months before the coronavirus brought life to a halt, I learned that Itineris was exploring the possibility of adding a second location, closer to our home. I want them to succeed in this, not only for Leah, but for all the others in our area that will benefit.
If you love distance learning, dislike sarcasm, or never wear blue, you are welcome to cut out the middleman and donate to Itineris directly. I'm sure they'll welcome it.
If you too would like to raise funds for a cause, contact me. Perhaps Leah and I can help out. In another life, I did some graphic design. And we'll want to continue to build on Leah's project skills.