I always knew that Jack had problems in the visual area. As a baby and a toddler, I would try to play patty-cake with him. I would sit him up and clap my hands and chant the patty-cake rhyme to him. I would pull his little paws up in front of him and gently tap them as I recited and clapped. He loved it. But he never made a move to clap his hands, by himself. He never tried to touch my hands with his. He would listen and look and smile, even break out in a fit of giggles. But he never tried to copy.
Jack accompanied me everywhere. When school started, I arranged for Margaret to watch him twice a week, from when he was five months old until he was a little over a year old. I would bring my portable playpen up to Margaret’s house in Shelburne Falls and drop off diaper bag, bottles, and baby. Over the year, Jack and Margaret both learned how to walk, him for the first time, her for the second. When my classes were over, I drove back to Shelburne Falls and picked him up. The second semester, I also hired a student to watch him as I took classes five days each week. I would load up the stroller and his babysitter would take him Monday, Wednesday, and Friday for a single class, to deliver him to me once my class was over for the day.
I nursed Jack. As he grew, I tried to add some foods but whenever I did, he got diarrhea. I obsessed over it. The pediatrician told me he would eat when he was ready. He didn’t start on solid foods until he was a year old. He was skinny but jolly.
Jack’s first world was “Mommamomma.” He was tiny, perhaps eight months old? I was cradling him in my arms while lounging in bed, reading a book. John came into the bedroom and scooped him up. Jack let out a howl, “Mommamomma!”
John looked at the baby in his arms; Jack was reaching for me. John chuckled and handed him back. Jack nestled back and smiled angelically. John picked him up again. Jack whimpered and reached out again to me. John said, “Mommamomma, huh? Guess you’re a momma-boy.”
Jack walked for the first time on his first birthday. He was standing, hanging onto the table, when GrandMargaret called him from the sofa. Without thinking, he walked across the living room and into her arms. He then had to think about this for a while; he didn’t walk solo again for two more weeks. But once he started walking, he was unstoppable.
Jack had started to speak in phrases. He spoke so fast I couldn’t understand him. He would let out a supersonic chirp, then smile at the poor, silly mortals who couldn’t understand him. I wanted to visit my sister, so Jack and I took a car-tour of the deep south when Jack was fourteen months old. At my mother’s house, Jack let out once of his indecipherable chirps. My mother understood him! He had asked to play the piano. She held him in her lap and he carefully played one key at a time. He was just a baby but he didn’t bang on the keys the way any other infant would have. Jack loved the piano, carefully playing the entire time we visited.
I had one of my worst scares of his infancy while at my mother’s house. We were sleeping in her spare room, equipped with two twin beds. I had cuddled up next to Jack to sleep. I woke at dawn, alone. He walked well and loved to try to open doors. The house was equipped with burglar bars on all of the windows and doors and the set on the front door was difficult to open. I ran into the living room. No Jack. I opened the front door but could not open the burglar bars. Jack was not in sight on the street. I closed the front door and ran back to the bedroom and listened, holding my breath. I could hear my own heartbeat, frantically beating inside my chest. There was another small sound. Carefully, I scanned the room. I heard the faint sound of breathing. I looked under the first bed; it was jammed with odds and ends and no Jack. I flipped back the dust ruffle of the second bed and found Jack completely under the bed, almost invisible in the clutter and curled up next to the spare blankets. He snored softly. I rolled him out. He uncurled loosely. I picked him up and put him back on the bed. He never woke up.
Jack went off to a family daycare that fall, and shortly thereafter, he pulled his first prank on the provider. Jack didn’t like to nap. Diane Bagg had placed him in the bed but he got up. When it was obvious that he was not going to take a nap with Stevie, she let him come into the living room. He played quietly with the toys. She needed to use the bathroom so she left him alone for a moment. The next thing she knew, he was pounding on the bathroom door. She scolded him; “Jack, I need privacy.”
Jack responded, “Stevie’s mom. Stevie’s mom.”
Since Stevie’s mom was due shortly, Diane figured that she had arrived and startled Jack. She called out, “Just a moment,” and quickly finished flushed.
She opened the door to find Jack, all alone in the hall. He grinned up at her. “Where is Stevie’s mom, Jack?”
Jack smirked. “Funny.”
Diane told me the story when I came to get him. He wasn’t even eighteen months old and he had already figured out how to play a trick on an adult.
I went to Colorado shortly after Jack’s second birthday for a week of archaeological training with the National Park Service. While I was gone, John took Jack up in a helicopter; Jack sat on the floor of the glass bubble as there were only two seats. When I came home, Jack told me he “went up in a …. hard word.” I had no idea what he meant, so I asked John what they did. I taught Jack how to say helicopter by breaking it down into individual syllables, then slowly putting it together. Jack pronounced helicopter “hel..i..cop..ter” for months afterword. He had a toy helicopter, too, that he played with often.
Jack was simultaneously easy and impossible to toilet train. He did it in his own good time. I tried potty chairs, rewards, training pants; nothing worked. At the age of three, I had had enough with diapers. It was starting to get hot with the beginning of summer and Jack was getting a bad case of diaper rash. One morning, I dressed him in a pair of little regular underpants and a T-shirt (and nothing else) and told him that he HAD to start using the toilet. A few hours later, he howled. Standing in the kitchen, pee dribbled down his leg to pool on the kitchen floor. I mopped him off and brought him into the bathroom. He sat on the toilet and finished peeing. I stripped him, washed him off, put on a clean pair of underpants, and told him, “OK, when you feel like you have to pee, tell mommy and I’ll help you.” And he did.
That afternoon, again in the kitchen he howled once again. He said, “It’s.... ROLLING!”
I sniffed. The ripe odor of a fresh bowel movement flavored the air. I walked Jack to the bathroom. He waddled, complaining about the rolling sensation the entire way, all of twenty feet. I pulled the soiled underpants off and dropped the little ball of turd into the toilet. It splashed. I helped Jack onto the toilet and wiped his bottom clean and told him, “When you need to go, tell mommy and I’ll help you.” I wiped his butt for him every time he went until he started kindergarten. It was better than diapers! And just like that, Jack was toilet trained. He just needed an incentive and diapers were too comfortable.
When he was five, Jack went to an all-day kindergarten at the Horizon School (which is now the Canal Village School) in South Hadley Falls. He could have gone to the South Hadley public school’s half-day kindergarten but I was in grad school in Amherst and a half-day schedule just didn’t work. John was busy starting his car business in Springfield and rarely even saw Jack during the week; Jack’s care had always been my responsibility. So, I found Horizon and sent him there. His teacher was Pat Bein. Mrs. Bein was kind but Jack had some problems. The class was mostly boys (ten to two girls, as I remember).
Jack was melting down regularly by the end of the year. He knew his letters and numbers but he just couldn’t stand still to sit quietly at his desk. When he tried to write, he rotated his entire body in gyrations that mimicked the pencil. Jack could not write legibly or even in a linear fashion – in addition to the body movements, he would turn the sheet as he wrote and his letters drunkenly revolved around a central point. Writing was an extremely laborious process, much more than it should have been. He did whatever he could to avoid writing and often chose to play with younger children over staying in class. He didn’t participate in the graduation ceremony. Pat recommended that we pursue testing for learning disabilities so I contacted the SPED office and started the ball rolling.
Initial testing was done by the school psychologist, Dr. Leonard. She was very nice and seemed to have absolute insight into Jack’s issues. She strongly recommended that we get Jack a computer and teach him to type as soon as possible. She wrote that he should have access to a computer. She said that he would learn how to print eventually but that his difficulties with the act of writing should not be allowed to impede his ability to produce written language. She liked the fact that Jack was already enrolled in gymnastics, saying that this would help with large motor skills. She also arranged for a test of reading with color overlays; Jack got a special colored overlay to help him to read (I got one, too). She was the first to pin-point visual-motor integration as an issue for Jack. In short, he has problems copying another person’s behavior (which, in retrospect, sounds like mirror neuron issues).
Unfortunately, the IEP (and my criticism of it) was totally ignored when he went to first grade at Plains School. Plains School houses only the kindergarten and first grades. Here is the letter that I sent in early September to Charlie Hopkins, the director of SPED for South Hadley.
Dear Dr. Hopkins,
In response to the IEP proposed for my son, John E. (Jack) Robison II ( DOB 4/12/90), I must articulate the following problems:
1. The recommendations do not include many discussed during the meeting of 6/18/96.
At the meeting on 6/18/96, Dr. Leonard spoke of more than just Jack's fine motor problems with cutting; she recommended completely divorcing writing and fine motor skills from Jack's academic work. I agreed to bring my spare computer to Jack's classroom to assist with this recommendation. I have spoken to Nancy Frennette about this, and will bring in the computer later this week. Jack's inability to write for very long (once he has written his name, he has nearly exhausted his limits) causes him intense frustration and undermines his sense of self-worth ("I'm stupid."). Free access to a computer to perform his academic work is crucial for Jack.
After observing Jack all summer, I now believe that his apparent desire to only play with children younger than himself at Horizon primarily stemmed from his difficulties in performing on paper in the classroom. During the summer, when he did not have to do any paperwork, his preferred playmates were, almost universally, either his own age or older.
2. The recommendations do not address an apparent disparity in one of Jack's test scores: the scaled score for digit span is a "5"; the rest of his verbal scaled scores are either "14" or "15". Does this indicate a possible problem that was missed or passed over? I did not see this discussed in Dr. Leonard's comments. I would appreciate more information.
In going through the various test results, a consistent pattern emerged. When a particular test had a low score, the examiner often commented that Jack had been less than cooperative during that portion, and that this test score should be interpreted cautiously in light of possible test inaccuracy. As Dr. Leonard noted, Jack is a perfectionist; isn't it possible that when Jack had difficulty with a test, he tried to redirect his examiner into a direction where he knew he could prove his mastery? I have noted these attempts consistently during the summer whenever he had problems performing tasks. This redirection by Jack should be a red flag for his teachers and testers.
In light of these problems, I am reluctant to accept the IEP as presented.
Jack's self esteem is strongly tied to his ability to perform in school. His IEP needs to take this into account. Jack is reading short words and sentences (mostly self-taught). He has taught himself a variety of math skills on the computer, including measuring and even some multiplication! The IEP must include strategies to allow Jack to perform to the fullest extent of his abilities, while encouraging him to develop his fine motor skills.
Jack is both bright and very well behaved in class; these two personality characteristics could easily cause his teachers to miss subtle cues about problems he is having. Jack also tries to conceal his difficulties. Jack's coping mechanisms must be acknowledged. When he exhibits these mechanisms, a red flag should be raised about his current activity. His IEP must clearly address strategies for detecting new problems, as well the retesting recommended in several areas.
The meeting of 6/18/96 also recommended that Jack have a OT evaluation as soon as possible. Please let me know when this is scheduled.
Thank you very much.
Jack was originally placed in a regular first grade class but, during the first week, was unable to sit in his seat. He disturbed other kids by crawling around. He was moved to a different classroom (a grade 1A class taught by Nancy Frennette – a class for kids who were intended to repeat first grade the following year) and it was MUCH worse! I brought in Jack’s computer but Jack was not allowed to use it. Jack was not even allowed to cut out his own shapes. An aide did all cutting. This was all despite the IEP that allowed him the use of the computer and recommended that he be encouraged to try to expand his fine motor skills. Jack lost all of his letters, refusing to make any effort to read. He had been reading signs at the age of three but suddenly, he refused to recognize letters. He started having tantrums every day, several times each day. Something had to change.
To add insult to injury, some damned kid – a big kid who had already stayed back a year or two and was at least twice Jack’s size - started bullying Jack on the school bus. All Plains kids were bused – and a parent had to be at the bus stop to put him on and take him off of the bus. It was a pain in the butt. One morning, the big thug tried to rob Jack of his lunch money. Jack had the coins in his backpack. Jack, thinking fast, grabbed at his pants pocket, as if to protect the money. The kid snatched at Jack’s pants pocket, tearing his pants pretty badly. Since we live so close to school, it happened just as the bus pulled in to the school yard. I guess the bully thought the money fell to the floor in the stampede of kids leaving the bus.
No one at school asked how Jack’s pants had been torn. I asked Jack what had happened when he came home. He told me, proud that he had fooled the bigger kid and kept his lunch money that day – the goon had taken it the day before. When the bus came the next morning, I reported to the driver what had happened. Boy – was she annoyed! With an angry gesture, she rousted the big kid from his nest in the back of the bus to sit next to her. Jack trotted happily to the back of the bus. The kid wasn’t on the bus for at least a week. But other events occurred and the problem with this brat became a non-event.
I can’t remember the last straw – I think it was when Nancy Frennette told me, in front of Jack, that he wasn’t as bright as everyone thought he was. It was the end of a series of demeaning things that had happened - Nancy Frennette explained that all of the kids had to be allowed equal use of Jack's computer to play games, for example, and that it would not be available to Jack for practice in reading and writing. I removed Jack and all of his belongings from the school around Veteran’s Day and refused to bring him back. I was threatened with the truant officer. I found an open house (I think it was held at Deerfield Academy) for local private schools. I talked to Weezy Houle, the director of Amherst Montessori and after negotiations, she agreed to enroll Jack as of December 1. I told the principal of Plains that Jack was transferring and he called off the dogs.
Jack did little in Montessori for several months except play with the farm toys, polish shoes, and sweep (typical Montessori activities that encourage the development of motor skills). He needed time to regain his sense of equilibrium and confidence after the damage done at Plains. Jack liked Montessori as he could work at his own pace and his teacher was very sweet and calm. he stopped having temper tantrums. Eventually, he started to work with the math modules. Then, he learned how to write on strips of paper using a writing template to form his letters – I still have one long message from the end of the year, asking if he can light a bonfire at the boat.
As the year progressed, I started working on further testing to figure out what kinds of help Jack needed to reach his potential. It was obvious to me that Jack was a lot smarter than any other kid I'd ever met, but that he had some serious challenges; I thought that his problems with writing was just a symptom of something bigger. I ultimately arranged for a complete neuro-psych exam at Yale, but it took longer than I expected. It took about a year to schedule and complete the tests, with him finally finishing in the middle of second grade. I took Jack down to New Haven for testing at least six times, perhaps as many as twelve times. Normally, the testing didn’t take this many sessions but Jack was resistant to completing segments where he had difficulty; he constantly tried to redirect. It took a lot of sessions to actually complete the battery. The main issue uncovered was the visual-motor integration issues. As part of the tests, I specifically asked to have him evaluated for Asperger’s but the psychologist said he was much too social to be on the autism spectrum.
Jack’s second year at Montessori was difficult on a number of levels. Although Jack had been at Montessori for almost a year, he had been in a primary classroom, not the elementary room, and the change was substantial. Second, our family life was in upheaval. John was never home. I grew to suspect that he had been having an affair for years. I begged John to go to couples counseling and eventually confronted him about my suspicions. He did not deny it. When he refused to end the affair, I asked John to leave and he did. It was pretty distressing for all of us.
Jack had started in the elementary classroom in Montessori in September of 1997 for his second grade year. He did not read, yet, but had mastered a lot of math. At home, I bought a lot of math and other computer games, such as Treasure Island and Treasure Galaxy, and Jack would go through periods where he played intensely. At Montessori, he got a file card every Monday with the tasks that he needed to complete by the end of the week but when he worked on which topic was up to him. He loved this freedom. Some kids needed more guidance. Over the summer, I had another meeting with Charlie Hopkins. Since Jack continued to have serious problems with reading and was now in second grade, South Hadley paid for one of the Montessori teachers (not Julie Jones) to learn and teach him with a special intensive phonics program. Jack hated it but it worked and he learned how to read by the end of the year.
There are always bullies. Jack had a problem with another kid this year – one who teased and bullied him pretty severely despite the otherwise close-knit classroom. His teacher, Julie, caught on and put an end to it in fairly short order, but the kid was a snot. He was a year older than Jack and determined to maintain a pecking order with him on top. One of the science modules for the third graders was on penguins. There are a number of different species of penguin, including the "jackass penguin," so named for its braying call. The kid used every opportunity to call Jack, “Jackass Penguin.” Jack was incensed. He eventually left to go to public school.
One of the other Montessori mothers, Jane Macomber, and I started a cub scout den at the Montessori school. The older boy was in a different den (he wasn't even in the same pack), which also created some friction, but the kids in Jack’s den were happy to have an extra structured play period after school to do arts and crafts and to run amuck outside.
Jack had a massive crush on a little girl named Olivia. Colin, a friend of Jack’s, also liked Olivia. Olivia was a little bitch in training – she deliberately played the boys off against each other. Every day, Jack would present her with little treats out of his lunch box as love offerings and as often as not, Olivia shared these treats with Colin, never with Jack. Jack drew countless love notes. Nothing she did discouraged Jack. At the end of the year, Olivia was supposed to move back to France. Jack was bereft.
Then, Jack met Danielle in swimming class. They became fast friends. They laughed and played daily. Danielle was a real little girl; she liked to do most of the things that Jack liked to do. She didn’t try to manipulate him, she just liked to play with him. This was a very different boy-girl relationship than the one Jack had had with Olivia.
Then, it happened. Jack had met Danielle at the playground before swimming class. They ran inside the dressing rooms and got changed, then the kids got together inside the pool enclosure. Who should be there but Olivia! Jack and Danielle had been laughing and running around for the last half hour at the playground and they were still quite playful. Olivia was with her mother on the deck at the far end of the pool. The kids nearly bumped into her as they prepared to jump in the shallow end and have their first swim-race of the day. It was hysterically funny to me – Olivia angrily glared at Danielle, then stood up, put her hand on her hip, and smiled as winningly as she could at Jack (the same way she used to look at Colin).She said, "Hi, Jack! Whatcha doing?"
Jack looked at Olivia, blinked, and said, “Oh, Hi!” He hadn’t even noticed her sitting next to her mother. He grabbed Danielle’s hand again, turned, and the kids jumped into the pool together. Olivia was thunderstruck. She watched the pair for a minute as they laughed and splashed, pouting and lip quivering. Her mother lay on her towel in the afternoon sun, eyes masked by giant sunglasses. Olivia demanded that they leave. We never saw them again.
The next year, there were four kids in their third elementary year at Montessori – Karl, Dorian, Hannah, and Jack. Danielle was enrolled in public school but the kids continued to get together regularly. Jack was the leader at recess; he had made up a story about Fishy, the Space Penguin. It was a long-term story; any kid who wanted to participate at recess was given a role in the on-going storyline, even the littler children were welcome to play. Jack drew elaborate pictures of the battles of Fishy and company and all of the kids knew all about the space war in which Fishy’s Space Cadets battled the bad guys. Jack was in his element. He was the most popular kid at the school and recess was very different than the previous year when the older boy ruled the playground. Hannah’s little sister had a crush on Jack and he was much kinder to her than Olivia had been to him. Every day, she left a mash-note in his cubby. Every day, he discretely handed it to his teacher, Julie, who disposed of it. In that way, no one’s feelings were imposed upon.
All of the kids at Montessori were very bright. The four older kids were all involved with the Cub Scout den (we didn’t tell the packmaster Hannah’s name as girls aren't allowed in boy scouts!), as were a couple of the younger boys. All of the kids liked each other and none had any tendency to be mean. The little kids adored Jack because he encouraged them. Of course, he was a little condescending but he liked the little kids, too. Montessori taught him how to treat people who didn’t operate on his level with kindness and patience.
Jack was invited to become a member of the team at Hampshire Gymnastics. He started working out three days a week, for three hours a day. For the first time in his life, Jack started to sleep for eight hours each night. He like gymnastics and his teammates.
After graduating from Montessori, we had a decision to make. I lived in South Hadley. John was living in Chicopee with his girlfriend. Jack was splitting his time between us, although sometimes it was hard to make Jack go to his father’s house. I wasn’t happy with the South Hadley public schools but I thought they were better than Chicopee’s. I enrolled Jack at Mosier School, to start fourth grade. His teacher was Mrs. Hann. A classmate lived around the corner: Kevin Regan. The boys started visiting and riding bicycles together. Maureen Regan was the den mother for Kevin’s cub scout den. Eventually, Jack joined their den as the one at Montessori fell apart in our absence.
Jack did well in fourth grade but I was preparing to leave for Mexico, to do research at Museo Na Bolom, before the school year ended. My plans had already been disrupted by John. Although we had separated two years earlier and had drawn up a separation agreement, John never filed for divorce. I wanted the security of knowing that our relationship was over before I left. I was afraid that if anything happened to me, John would inherit everything and his girlfriend, the woman he had chosen over me, would wind up with my house, my car, my jewelry, and my child. John finally filed for divorce and we went to court a few days before our scheduled departure. I wrote a holographic will, asking my brother (a lawyer) to make sure that Jack got everything of mine.
Jack was scheduled to take the MCAS for fourth grade. I didn’t want him to take it as he did not have the accommodations in place to allow him to use a keyboard. Instead, I signed him out of school and we left for Mexico.
I was happy. Once again, we drove to Florida, this time with Shenzi, the dog. My sister was going to take care of him while we were in Mexico.My friend Frankie had given us the first three Harry Potter books on CD. We listened to them on the ride south. I had been reading the books to Jack as his bedtime story; the CDs gave us something to think about other than the long drive. The fourth book came out while we were in Mexico; I made sure that John bought it so Jack could read it when Jack came back to the US before me. Jack became a proficient reader with this book; he went to Cub Scout camp with his copy that summer and read it at every free moment. When he started the book, reading was still something of a struggle for him. He read only one word at a time. The more he practiced reading, the faster he read. He started to read in chunks of text, the way that I do. When he finished the book, he was at a loss for something to do. Maureen Regan suggested that he could always reread it. He immediately brightened and, on the spot, started it all over again! He read the book three times before I got home and by the time he finished it the last time, he read almost as fast as I do. Now, he reads much faster on a computer screen. He can read about as fast as he can scroll. I don’t read that fast on the computer, but I read about that fast on paper. Maybe I need to practice reading, now!
