Thursday, February 4, 2021

 Thursday, February 4, 2021

 

My leg is feeling much better. It only bothers me when I lie on my back on the couch. Some spot gets pressed on my back and triggers sciatica.

      After yoga today, I asked Joe to check my orchid in the backyard. There are debates about whether it was grafted onto the shrub or a volunteer. Either way, it puts out these spectacular purple flowers. It's complete serendipity. Joe had told me to cut back the thingie from which the flowers grew. It gets longer and longer and longer- a little like Pinocchio's nose. I hadn't seen blooms for a while, and the leaves were turning brown. Most losses don't make me sad. The loss of this plant did. When Joe looked at it, he found a sprig with four or five blooms on it. It is alive and doing well. Can you imagine having orchids just self-plant and grow in your backyard? It's Hawaii.

        Joe also asked about my stem cell therapy. He is also eighty and is having some hip problems. He is considering having it done himself if I do well. We'll see. 

       I paid off the last significant payment on the credit card to cover the new solar equipment's expenses. I also reread chapter two from my book on my reading method. 

       I bolded the sections which I thought might be relevant for the Step-Up tutor who told me she was having trouble with her student because she was reading too fast and making mistakes. People always tell students who do this to 'slow down.' What in God's name does that mean? What are they doing when they slow down? Are they picking their noses? Contemplating their navels? What are they supposed to do? I ask those questions. I have come up with answers; I have had some success with my solutions. It drives me crazy when instructors give incomplete directions. If the student knew what to do, they might have done it independently.

       I had a therapy session today. I brought up two disturbing incidents. For the first, I  referred to an experience with the therapist who didn't see me as I see myself or, for that matter, as Mike saw me. She only saw me in a bad light. I have not been able to shake the bad juju from that experience.

         The second incident happened yesterday. I had my second session with a seven-year-old whose mom thinks she has some reading problems. She may be, but she is not far behind. She was reading a slightly advanced selection of where she should be in the school year. However, when she doesn't know a word, she can highlight it and have the computer tell her what it is. Then she repeats the word. Since I couldn't hear what the computer said, I didn't realize that she had a cheat sheet. When I did step in to correct or instruct, she left the scene and started with distracting behavior.

     I watched the mom with her on two sessions. From what I can see, mom is constantly on her case. At the end of our session, she stepped in and started pushing the girl around. I said, "Let me deal with it." I don't think she ignored me; instead, I think she didn't even hear me. The mom's behavior with the child struck me as counterproductive, if not downright dangerous, for her child's development. I can see why this child is resistant to anyone telling her anything since her mom's comments are tinged with frustration. I see mom as a bully. I was upset yesterday after getting off Zoom with them. Since I wanted to 'confront' the mom, get her to work with me on her deeper issues, or get into family therapy to learn other strategies for dealing with her child.

When I brought up the issue with Shelly, she asked what I wanted to work on, the mother or the child. I chose the child. When asked how I felt about her, I responded, "I hate her." Oh, this was a surprise. But not really. This little girl fights back. This little girl's mom is a lot like the way my mom was. (Although, I think this mom may be open to getting help- to acknowledging that she needs help.) It isn't this little girl I hate; it is myself.

      Now I have confronted other moments of self-hatred, but this was a new one. I felt like I had someone thrashing around inside of me. Shelly asked how old this self was. I wasn't quite sure, but I would say at least an adolescent, maybe in the mid-twenties. This was an adult version of me. Oh, boy. Does she ever hate me? She sees me as having ruined her life. She says she could have been someone if it wasn't for me. Her cry reminded me of Marlon Brando's line is ON the Waterfront, "I could have been a contender." She blames her lack of success on me.

     Of course, she's right. But one of the reasons I haven't been willing to put myself out there is because I have been aware of this aspect of myself. There is no way I will give free rein to a part of me that wants to put the work out there for ego reasons. The first commitment is" Do NO harm." I believe if ego is the main driver, harm will follow. This is what I see in Trump; he is one big ego. There's nothing else to him. 

      This angry self finally managed to wriggle herself free from the confines of my body. She stood before me and raged. Boy, does she hate me! I was calm with this. I hope that my dealing with her will finally free me from my reactivity to the critical, contemptuous comments. My guess is their words trigger 'her.' I have been fighting off the external comments when I needed to deal with the inner attack. I made it clear that I would not do her bidding until her need for fame and fortune were resolved. I don't expect it to disappear. I can imagine that she represents ambition. Not a bad driving force once harnessed.

         I didn't get 6,000 steps completed before yoga, so I did a lot of walking during the day to get up to 8,000 steps before my before-dinner walk. Poor Elsa was squirming again this afternoon. I have come to recognize it is painful hunger that prevents her from being at rest. I fed her before our walk. I've developed a new mixture. I mix the kibble with the chopped meat, but instead of massaging the beef into the kibble, I soak the whole mixture in hot water. I have done this with the kibble since introducing Dr. Marty's. When I add the water, it makes a gravy, penetrating all the kibble. She loves it. I gave her both kinds with her evening meal. Close to the usual portion I used to give her. I have to be careful I don't overfeed her.

       I had J at 2:30. He said his reading speed has increased, the math facts are coming to mind faster, he is contributing more in class, he is no longer having problems copying word problems, and he is enjoying math. I did a sentence of phonemic awareness. Today I asked him if he ever tried a word himself. He said yes. I asked him to do one word. He chose, please. He parsed it as [pl-ea-s-e]. Good try, but no cigar. The real problem was separating that final e. He said he didn't know what to do with it. I think he knew it was silent; he just didn't know how to transcribe it. As far as the pl was concerned, he had been taught that that consonant blend made one sound. This approach works for many kids who aren't having problems, but not for those who are. P and l are two distinct phonemes; they do not make one sound. They do make a convenient letter combination. Those are the ones that are repeated a lot and help us decode words quickly. It's worthwhile learning, but not without understanding that they are two distinct phonemes. OH, well,

       J asked if we could work on his homework. He pulled up some math. I felt like we were playing a video game. We worked together, throwing ideas back and forth, solving a problem. It was fun. I am enjoying this boy more and more. What a delight!

                Right after him, I had adolescent E. He didn't know what to work on. I always tell him to select something that's annoying-whatever comes to mind, no matter how trivial. Annoyance always leads to the good stuff. He finally said that he found it took forever to do his homework. He frequently will say, "What?" and I have to repeat myself. That says one of two things: he can't make head or tails of my NYC accent, or he has an auditory processing problem. It came out he was doing his homework while working with me. I asked him to read a sentence from his homework. He read the directions. OMG! I didn't find the instructions intelligible. I wrote out what they really meant. I can't remember the actual words, but they used the word below when they meant above. Students had to infer what was necessary. I will work with him on his language processing some other time. 

      He worked on an exercise for his health class to determine his conflict resolution style. I don't remember all of them: competitive, withdrawn, compromise, and two more. He said he came out as being primarily competitive. That was a surprise. I saw him as someone who withdrew when he sensed conflict. As it turned out, his competitive impulse came out when talking with friends, arguing about various points of view. This was a form of play. He enjoyed articulating his point of view. He didn't have to win.

       On the other hand, when he was in conflict with his mom, his strategy was to withdraw. I saw his behavior when dealing with his mom. He lowered his eyes, collapsed his upper body, suppressed his breathing, and turned sideways. He said yes. I told him he was shunning his mom when he did that. I asked him what would happen if he turned his back. He agreed with me; his mom would go ballistic, possibly hitting him about the head. Even when he was with friends, I also saw that he didn't ask for what he wanted. If someone proposed something, he would respond with "Whatever!" He was always accommodating or submitting.  

     I asked if his sister asked for what she wanted. He said yes. He also said their mom came down on her like a ton of bricks when she did. He and his sister have chosen the same two complementary paths my sister and I chose. Hopefully, those two do as well as we have.

       I told him he should start thinking about how he can safely mention his needs and interests o others. If he couldn't, he won't have a good life ahead of him.   I told him the story of when Mike and I picked out our silverware at Fortunoff's. We each headed to the display cases on our own. I came back with a very modern design; Mike came back with something appropriate for an 18th-century table. We each looked at the other's choice, and without saying a word, went back to the displays. We came back together with our second selection. Mike's was a bit more modern; mine a bit more traditional. Back we went. Mike came back with one we could both settle on on the third try. We never regretted our choice. I still like the pattern. We called this process co-creating. It's not the same as compromising because you're not giving up something; you're considering the value of other possibilities. We both believed co-creating always produced something better than either of us could come up with alone. I loved living that way.

I told E. that my conflict resolution style was finding a mutually comfortable resolution. However, many people don't see my effort that way. They see me as pushing my ideas on them. Well, I guess I am. I am pushing to work things out. I asked him if he saw me as forcing my ideas on him. He said no. Did he see anyone who expresses themselves or asks for what they want as aggressive? I am sure others see me that way. I retreat from those people- to a great distance. I have learned that there are people like that, and there is no hope.

         After E. I had my new client, A. He is seven and in the second grade. He is struggling to read at a kindergarten level. Mom says he is okay in math. I have my doubts. I think mom minimizes his problems to protect him. He gave many of the sounds we had covered last time, not from memory but from hearing his own production. I started on the second aspect, putting the sounds together again. A. had a problem with auditory processing, and he has spatial issues. I taught him cross-body blending. I learned/developed a new detail for the strategy. I had him identify the left shoulder with #1 and the right with #2. This seems to solve some spatial problems; students reversing the sides, confusing which side represents the first letter versus the second in a word. Mom was by his side the whole time. There were times when he was struggling, and I could see how hard it was for her not to interfere. I would say," Steady, breathe." She did a good job.  

      I did some work on the short PowerPoint presentation on the decoding method I developed. I started writing a book with ten chapters, each chapter at least thirty pages. Then my niece suggested that I start with an article. Then I developed this half-hour video, which is pretty dense. And now I've reduced the content to a short video. I learn something new about my own method when I shrink the presentation down. I find out how to communicate the basic idea in fewer words. I also have come to realize how much knowledge I have. I needed every smidgeon of that knowledge to develop this method, but since kids feel confident playing with it independently, it doesn't seem to require much knowledge to execute. Fantastic!