Tuesday, June 28, 2011

Story of the Day 6/23/2011



"portrait a saint"







"portrait of a fucking idiot"








We lost Aaron, or to be more precise, he lost himself.

Aaron has spent the past few days visiting with various New York relatives, his aunt Amy, his paternal grandparents and his maternal grandmother.
On the morning that he took the bus from Binghamton to New York City, I woke up at 5 AM, ate some breakfast and drove him off to the bus station, then I checked to make sure that he got in the correct line, and onto the bus before I sped away, back to Ely's and Amelia's home.

When Ely awoke, he was amazed that i had gone to the trouble. "He's an adult."
"Yes," I replied, "He is a very talented adult, and he has also inherited your father's gene for getting lost easily. And you do realize that you have inherited it , too. " And I reminded him of the college visits Ely had taken Aaron to, this past January, where they had spent numerous hours terribly lost and driving through all of the wrong parts of Washington, DC and Rochester, and had ended up missing all of the carefully arranged college tours and appointments.

My terse recitation of this recent display of Ely's own navigational skills only served to quiet his condemnation of this "coddling" for about 20 minutes.

Some relatives are more realistic about aaron. Aaron's wonderful Aunt Amy , upon learning that Aaron was coming in, immediately offered to meet him at his bus, to feed him and then to make sure he actually boarded the correct train to get him out to East Rockaway to visit his Greenbaum grandparents.
And his father had arranged , in advance, ( via the internet) for a taxi to take him from there to my mother's place, in Brooklyn. And, my mother had been given very specific instructions, that today she was to take him down to Penn Station in Manhattan and see him onto the train to Wilmington.
And, either his aunt Lynne, or I would then drive to the train station, this evening, and pick him up.
So, basically, we were treating this very oversized 20 year old as if he were a very easily confused and confounded 6 year old who was quite unable to navigate any of this by himself.

What can I say, we are brilliantly insightful.

The first wrench in the works came this afternoon. Aaron's train left Penn Station ( New York City) at 3:35 PM. It was supposed to arrive in Wilmington a little after 5 PM, but, when it arrived in Princeton Junction, it sat , and it sat, and it sat.
For two hours.



Sarah and I arrived in Garnet Valley, at Lynne's home, close to 5 PM, and Lynne immediately let us know about Aaron's delay, and the reason for it. Some sort of broken signals.

And Aaron texted his aunt Lynne and let her know that the train had started up again
So we ate and we visited, and we atesome more, and when it got close to the new arrival time for the train, Lynne left for the station.

Lynne, very certain of Aaron's navigation inabilities, was there standing at the platform when the train pulled in. she watched the passengers disembarking, and didn’t see Aaron The train took off, and as the passengers cleared out, she still didn't see Aaron

And then she got a text.

From Aaron

He was still on the train.

And the train was moving. Away.

Well, after numerous back and forth texts, what had happened became known, Aaron had gotten up from his seat, and grabbed his suitcase, and headed towards the doors . And this was at the Wilmington station. But, you see, he had gotten up after the train stopped, and in the aisle on his way to the doors were a very fat woman and a very old man, and he had to impatiently get them to budge , so he could get to the doors. So, by the time he mad it to the doors, they had closed. And Aaron was still on the train.

Aunt Lynne is not a dumb bunny. She is one of those people who says, "Oh gee, a problem, what is the most efficient way to solve it?" And then she does whatever that is. And solves it.

So, Aunt Lynne went up to one of the Amtrak workers at the desk and explained that her very tall nephew was a fucking idiot, and he had not managed to get off the train in Wilmington, and now he was headed only God knows where, and could someone from Amtrak grab hm and get him settled on the next train back to Wilmington. Oh yes, and he is deaf and may or may not be able to speech read and understand the train conductor, (since his hearing aids are rendered useless for this by the noise of the train.)
Meanwhile,. Aaron has texted Lynne to let her know that the next station they will come to is Albany. Which caused some consternation, since the train he was on should not have been heading toward Albany .The conductor had told Aaron the next stop, but Aaron wasn't familiar with the name of the city, so he thought it was Albany. The Wilmington agent figured out it was Aberdeen, MD. Aberdeen is after Wilmington. But getting off at Aberdeen wouldn’t help, since no train was coming back from that station.

The lady at the desk very kindly made some phone calls, and said that a conductor on the train he was on would give Aaron a ticket for the 188 ( the train coming back this way) and get him off and handed over to someone who would get him onto the right train and who would make sure that he got off at the correct stop.

So, Lynne texted Aaron. She explained to him what she had set up with Amtrak, and that he shoudl not act offended when the train conductor came to speak with him and treated him as if he were intelectually deficient . And then Lynne came home for teh duration, while waiting for the 188 train to come, since it would be coming from Baltimore , MD, which was the next stop.......


Time went by and eventually, we heard from Aaron that he was headed back on the correct train.

Via a slew of texts, I let him know that he was supposed to be standing, with his bag in hand BEFORE the train stopped at Wilmington, and be ready to disembark BEFORE the train doors opened. And Aaron texted me back that he was totally prepared, this time. His actual text back to me read : " I talked to the conductor and he gave me a ticket for amtrax(sic) 188 when i get off at Baltimore, I’m going to stand by the door before the train stops and push all the old and fat people out of my way. smile"

So a couple of hours later, Lynne , with Sarah in tow, headed off to the station in Wilmington.

About 20 minutes later, we get a text from Aaron that he is still on the train as it pulls out of the station in Wilmington, as he has not successfully managed to disembark.

And Lynne calls, both furious and a bit panicked about what to do. although, furious is probably not quite the right word, because , after all, she has been Aaron's aunt for 20 years , now, and in some dark recess of her brain, I think she knew this might happen. So, perhaps frustrated is a better term. And of course, the panic only lasted about 3 minutes, because, by then, the innate and essential Lynne had sprung back and she had , again, figured out the most efficient way to solve the problem

She , with Sarah riding shotgun, took off on a mad dash to downtown Philadelphia- where, of course, some sort of sports game was going on, so the normally unfriendly Philadelphia traffic was worse than usual.

With numerous very specific and detailed texts to Aaron to locate a conductor and make sure the conduct knew to make sure he had to get off in Philadelphia, we also did the ultimate and Aaron's Aunt Lynne and i both threatened that if he didn't get off the train in downtown Philadelphia, that we he would have to spend the night in New York City .


In the end, which was, thankfully, before the witching hour, Aaron was safely gotten by Lynne and Sarah, an brought back to Lynne and Joe's house.

Lynne has added:
When he missed Wilm the 2nd time, the Wilm agent asked if I wanted him to come back again. She, being from DE, was horrified that anyone should have to drive into Phila. I, of course, had been hoping to avoid it, but being a native, was not so daunted. I told her I wanted him off the train on dry land! I was fairly certain Phila would be a big enough stop that he'd manage to get through the door this time.

The reason he missed Wilm the 2nd time is the doors didn't open at all! Several people were trapped with him. Sometimes, there is a PA announcement that only certain doors will open at a particular stop, but if several people were at the wrong place, either they didn't make the announcement or the PA wasn't working & the conductor didn't know it. Usually this only happens at small stations though, & Wilm is a major city in DE.

When we got to 30th St Station, there was construction, so I had to drive around & find where all the taxis & cars were waiting. We texted Aaron which door to exit & Sarah got out to wave him over. I frantically asked, "Are you OK? Not sick, not hurt? Fine, now I'll kill you." I received several hugs for this, because, after all, it's Aaron.

The original time of arrival in Wilm (after the Princeton Junction delay) was 6:50. Sarah & I left the house at 6:25 & finally arrived home with our prize at 10:30. I hadn't realized it was a Road Trip Day, but spontaneity can be fun. ;)


And this is the same boy who will be traveling by himself to Israel in just two months.

Story of teh Day 5/23/2011 #1

Awaiting permission to post.

Story of the Day 5/22/2011

Awaiting permission to post.

Friday, June 17, 2011

Story of the Day 6/ 17/ 2011




























It has been a long day.

Of course, part of the reason it feels so long is that it actually started yesterday. Or, more accurately, the evening before yesterday, Wednesday night.

Since Sarah is now the proud owner of a pair of glasses, and there fore can take the written test to get her driver’s license learner’s permit, we have to take her to the DMV (Department of Motor Vehicles) to take the test.

And not only does she need to wear her glasses to pass the vision test, and correctly answer 40 of the 50 questions to pass the written test, but she also has to give proof that she is Sarah Leah Margolis-Greenbaum, not that anyone who isn’t Sarah Leah Marolis-Greenbaum would be likely to be able to spell that name, but just top be on the safe side, the DMV requires 5 pieces of identification: a birth certificate (or proof of naturalization), a social security card, 2 official documents attesting to a current Indiana address (such as bank statements, rental agreements, or a letter from a parole officer) and a cheek swab for a DNA test. Okay, they do not require the cheek swab, which is kind of a shame, because as it turned out, that would have been the easiest thing to obtain.

You see, Sarah doesn’t have a bank statement, because she doesn’t have a bank account. This is because her parents are evil and they have never allowed her to have more than 25 cents at a time, and they do not give her anything resembling an allowance. Of course, since they have previously gone broke paying for the older siblings’ college educations it is at least one step up from their having squandered the funds on booze and bimbos. However, the government doesn’t seem to care about these distinctions. Also, Sarah’s parents have been negligent in the way in which they have raised her and she has never even met a parole officer, none-the-less have her very own one to attest to her residence.
Sarah does, however, have a report card issued from a local public school with a local mailing address, and she does have a mother who has a retirement account listing her as a beneficiary, not that it will do Sarah much good, since the retirement account is rather anemic, but it is the thought (and the documentation) that counts.

However, now we are down to the tough items.

Sarah had planned to take the test on Thursday, since, if she failed, she would remember all of the questions and study them thoroughly and be able to go back and take the test on Friday, which constitutes (according to the test booklet) “The next business day.”
So, Wednesday evening, I left a message on the bathroom mirror (hey every family has to have good communication, and this is ours), for my husband to leave me her social security card and birth certificate.

And, Thursday morning, I woke to find that he had left for work and not left them out for us.

So, like any good nag, I mean wife, I called him at work several times and extracted the important information that the documents were in the firebox, where the firebox was and where the key for the firebox probably was. I extorted this information from a rather unwilling husband- a situation which made Sarah gripe and grumble about her father’s attitude in helping her to obtain said Learner’s Permit, but, as I explained to Ms. Sarah, if I were Larry, I would also not want me pawing through his bureau drawers in search for a small key. After all, He is neat and organized and I am…a disaster.

After much searching several very colorful 4-letter words, I was…unsuccessful.
With promises of a chocolate milkshake and heading out first thing in the morning- TOMORROW, I finally calmed Sarah down, and we awaited my husband’s arrival home, and the liberation for the important documents from the firebox.

Again, I left a note taped to the bathroom mirror.
This morning, I awoke to find a note on the bathroom mirror telling me that Sarah’s social security card was now on Larry’s bureau-which it was, but without it’s companion document, the birth certificate.
Once again, I called my husband and what I learned was that he did not have the birth certificate.

Again, I used one of God’s greatest creations, the Internet, and found out how to go about ordering a copy of the birth certificate. For only $36, I could have it delivered by certified something-or-the –other, in only one week. And for only $14, we can have it, also by some –sort-or-the-other of registered mail, in only 3 –4 weeks. Needless to say, I was trembling over the prospect of telling this to Sarah, when she woke up. As a matter of fact, I very carefully did NOT wake her up…until about 11 AM.

Well, it was not as bad as I feared. Sarah did not hit me, nor scream- at least not very loudly. However, we did make a special, before Shabbat, very stressed out trip to the Marion County Health Department. There we took a number and sat in some rather uncomfortable molded plastic chairs, and waited. And waited. And waited. Although, really, it wasn’t as bad as all that, except that, when they gave us the $9 copy of the birth certificate, I realized that the names were wrong. Oh, it was Sarah’s birth certificate, all right, but Larry and I were not the parents. It was some other couple with very long names. For some reason, our names had been doubled. Maybe this was some sort of a snide comment about the weight I have gained, since Sarah was born, but that cannot be the reason for Larry now having 4 names, since he is still the same pant size as when I married him, 26 years ago.

Well, after a bit of explaining, we were given a corrected copy of the birth certificate, and, once again, Larry and I were the parents of Ms. Sarah.

Now, the afternoon, was disappearing, and instead of driving al the way back to the DMV near our home, I texted Aaron and asked him where the closets DMV was to the Health Department. The health department is about 39th street and North Keystone.
In only a few minutes, Aaron had texted me back that there was a DMV conveniently located at 5151 South Meridian. Wow, only about 90 blocks south. Fortunately, I have more directional sense than he has, and I ignored his suggestion. With only a little trouble we did find a DMV to far from where ewes were.

This DMV was a lot like our local one. It was painted an odd color of greenish something-or-other and it had those very familiar uncomfortable molded plastic chairs. Yes, the state must buy these in bulk. And it had the same long lines. And it had a similar roped off area for people to sit while taking the written test.
This is important, because you wouldn’t want anyone taking the test to have someone help them, or give them an answer, or anything like that.

Sarah was nervous and told me she was afraid she would fail the test.

While we were standing in line to obtain a copy of the written test for Sarah to take, Sarah observed the two women sitting in the roped off area. “ Mom, “ she signed to me, with a rather uncomfortable look on her face, “That woman over there is using the book to answer the questions!”

I looked back, and Sarah was right. The woman was holding her DMV booklet to prepare for the test in one hand, and the pencil with which she was writing answers on her test in her other hand.

“Well, “ I told Sarah, “At least you would never stoop as low as to do that!”
To which Sarah agreed.

A few minutes later, I had my butt parked in one of the molded plastic chairs on the waiting room side of the roped off area, and Sarah had herself parked in one of the molded plastic chairs on the test taking side, with the woman who was using the book sitting right behind her. (See the photo.)

Sarah finished the test in about 10 minutes, and she put it on the pile to be graded. While we sat and waited, and waited, and waited, the woman with the test preparation booklet kept working on her test, and working on it, and working on it.

Eventually, we were called to give the cheek swab, and the other documents, and Sarah who had passed the exam, had her photo taken for her learner’s permit. Then, just when we thought all of the hard testing and documentation as over, the assistant manager of the DMV (who happened to be the person doing Sarah’s paperwork), asked her a series of difficult questions.
“How tall are you?”
Well, a guess will work, right?
“5’9”? 5’10”?”
She stood up and the man selected the height he thought she looked to be.
“What do you weigh?”
Sarah actually knew the exact answer to that one.
“What color eyes do you have?”
“Blue? No, wait. Green.”
“What color is your hair?”
A smile crossed Sarah’s face, “Auburn.”
The man wrote this down.
“Do you have any mental, physical or hearing disabilities that would affect your driving?”
“No.”
The man looked at Sarah. Of course, Sarah is Deaf and I have been signing is questions to her and voicing her signed replies to him.
He told us we had to wait a minute while he went to speak with his supervisor.
As he got up, Sarah said to me, “I am deaf. It does not dis my ability.”
I told the man this.
Apparently, his supervisor agreed. She said to him, “Well, I can’t see why it would affect her driving.”

When we finally left the DMV, that same lady was still sitting and reading through her preparation booklet looking for the answers.

I have a suspicion she didn’t pass.

Story of the Day 6/15/2011


A number of years ago, Sarah came home from school and made a remark about how she couldn’t see the blackboard, it was blurry. I used to take my children to the eye doctor, once a year, for a check up. At the previous appointment, that had only been 4 months earlier, Sarah’s eyes had been fine. On the other hand, Sarah had grown several inches and she was at that magical age (10) when kids often start needing eyeglasses.

So, like a good mother, I trotted her off to the eye doctor, where she was found to have developed nearsightedness and where we promptly purchased a pair of glasses. Well, not that promptly, since the eye doctor we used didn’t sell them, but still fairly promptly.

Since Sarah was the youngest of the three, this also meant that I now had three matching kids- each with a pair of glasses for distance.

I will gladly admit to you that Sarah looked absolutely adorable in her glasses. Unfortunately, she couldn’t get used to wearing them. Despite a lot of nagging from me and my forcing her to put them on, at least once a day, they were rarely worn for more than 20 minutes at a time, and had been completely abandoned within a few weeks.

Every year, when we would go off for the eye doctor appointment, Sarah would smile for the eye doctor, and then refuse to get glasses.

Then, suddenly, about 7 months ago, Sarah let me know that she needed glasses.
Now.
Immediately.

Why? To take her driver’s license examination. Before she can take the written test to get her learner’s permit, she must take a vision test, and without a pair of glasses, she will fail. Ah.

So, every Sunday, for about a month, Sarah and I would drive off to one or more (usually more) different eyeglass places to view what they had. We tried Sears and JC Penney’s, and Vision World and Dr. Tavel’s, and Eye Glass World, and every other place in Indianapolis that has one of those special deals – “An eye exam and a pair of glasses for just $79”, or “An eye exam and two pairs of glasses for just $99!” But we never even found a pair of frames that vaguely interested her, and, eventually, the eyeglass buying trips stopped.

Until 3 weeks ago. Suddenly, Sarah again had this mad desire to get a pair. I mean to get a driver’s license. But she also, by now, had a mother who was absolutely unwilling to drive to any more eyeglass stores.
Ever.

Which is why God made the Internet. And places on the Internet from which one can order a pair of glasses. If you have a prescription.

So, I madly scrounged around the house to find the most recent eyeglass prescription.
Since I still drag her off, once a year, to the eye doctor, I knew we had a relatively (last fall) recent one, but where had I put it?

I found Aaron’s.
I found Ely’s, even though Ely’s is now a contact prescription.
But where was Sarah’s?
Every year, I would get a new piece of paper with a new prescription for each of them. And I would buy them glasses or contacts, or occasionally not, as happened, last fall, with Aaron, when the doctor said it hadn’t changed, and neither had Aaron managed to break the two pairs I had bought him the year before. But Sarah’s prescription was just something that was, at best, decorative; and I suppose that since it was never used it was also never filed in the appropriate place, which happened to be under a magnet on the refrigerator.

So, I called the eye doctor, and had them mail me another copy.

Two weeks ago, right after getting it, Sarah ordered two pairs of glasses from an on-line site recommended by Harriet’s daughter, Joanna.

When Sarah asked me to buy her two pairs, I gave her a look that would have made a lesser person cringe, after all, I expected the glasses to get a grand total of a week’s worth of wear, if we were lucky. But, I am a sucker.

And they were cheap.

And, every day for about 8 days, Sarah has asked me, “When do you think they will come?” This question is not quite as toxic as the “ Are we there, yet?” query, but I was starting to get a bit tired of hearing it, twice a day, and sometimes even three times a day, for the past couple of days.

When they finally arrived, today, Ms. Sarah modeled the new glasses for me.
And, a few minutes later said, “Everything looks so different with so many unimportant details. Like high definition TV.”

I said, “That is because things are now in focus.”

“You mean, they are supposed to look that way?”

And a bit later, “And everything looks brighter!”

”That is because they are in focus.”

Which prompted a short explanation of bent light waves.

In the meanwhile, at least one pair will get a little wear, tomorrow, for the driver’s license exam.

Afterwards, I am sure they will make very nice dust collectors.

Monday, June 13, 2011

Story of the Day 6/8/2011

Rice.
Dinner was salmon with a brown sugar, orange juice and soy sauce glaze, roasted asparagus, a salad of strawberries, romaine, and walnuts, and rice.
And Sarah was eating the rice.
With her fingers.

I am used to this behavior from Aaron. In addition to his famous pink bathrobe that he cannot be separated from, he eats with his fingers. He eats rice with his fingers, he eats scrambled eggs with his fingers, he has even tried eating soup with his fingers.
We all groan, and threaten him that no one will ever go out on a second date with him, but nothing seems to help.

But Sarah, who often cajoles Aaron for this behavior, was now eating her rice with her fingers.

I used my Aaron line on her, “No one is ever going to go on a second date with you!”

“That is okay, I don’t want to date anyone.”

“Well, but what about a job interview.”
She looked at me for along moment and replied, “ I will tell them I am on a diet and I cannot eat the rice. “

Being the high class mother that I am , I replied, “ Either that or that it makes your poop look funny.”

Sarah smiles and says, “Exactly!”

Sunday, June 12, 2011

Story of the Day 6/7/2011 #2

Apparently, you don’t use the word asshole, very often, in ASL.
At dinner, Sarah explained the more common ways to describe someone- the words that are more commonly used.
I am having a problem with this.
Several years ago, when Sarah was in 6th grade, she had a teacher at the Deaf School- a math teacher, who was an asshole.
I thought about the other words that Sarah showed me .
And they just didn’t fit.

I let Sarah know which teacher I was thinking of.

This teacher, C.M., had received, as part of Sarah’s IEP, instructions that she was supposed to be providing math enrichment to Sarah, because Sarah would otherwise be bored with the regular math work.
This teacher decided that she wasn’t going to be bothered, and opted to ignore what was written in the IEP.
I brought to the school’s attention that the enrichment work was not being provided to Sarah. The teacher then argued to the supervising teacher that Sarah was not only not good at math, she was struggling with it. She argued that Sarah really should be moved to the lower level math class, and not given enrichment. She argued that the teacher who had Sarah, the previous year, had no idea what he was talking about when he had suggested this.

Now, in order to get the school to follow the IEP, I had to give permission to have Sarah tested.
This is not normal. Normal is telling the supervising teacher that the IEP is not being followed, and they deal wit it and make sure it is followed, but this teacher was so adamant that the IEP was wrong and that she was not going to follow it , and the administrator was so un willing to fight with her that I was forced to do this.
The school’s psychologist, Terri, ten tested Sarah and presented her findings at a case conference/ According to the tests, Sarah was gifted in math. The teacher’s response to this was to spend 20 minutes of the case conference arguing with the school psychologist that she didn’t know how to do testing.
Following this case conference, not only did the teacher not provide the enrichment, she started behaving viciously towards Sarah- behavior that was noted and reported by another staff member to the supervising teacher.
As a result, Sarah was eventually moved to another, lower level math class.

Why to a lower level math class?
Because C.M. was teaching the “ on grade level” section. The Deaf School is small, and each grade has an on-grade-level section - and a section that is about one grade level behind, and sometimes a section that is even further delayed. The best that could be done was to move Sarah to the lower math section.
Which happened to be wonderful.
The teacher in this section was friendly and flexible. He gave Sarah a seat that was separated from the other kids , where she could do the appropriate lessons, and not what the other students were working on, and he gave her real enrichment work, and after working with her for a while ,he recommended that she be skipped up a grade level. Actually, he recommended that she be skipped up two levels, but Sarah wasn’t comfortable with that, so she was skipped one level.

Meanwhile, I was still searching for just the right ASL word to describe this teacher.
And , now, so was Sarah.
In the end, Sarah looked at me and said, “Asshole”.

Apparently, even in ASL ,, this is the only word that really fits.

Story of the Day 6/7/2011

Ely had a hard time understanding what I was telling him.
Aaron is now dressing differently.
Okay, Aaron has always dressed differently, after all, how many 6’3” nice Jewish boys who are straight wear fluffy pink bathrobes? And Hawaiian print shirts with checked shorts and socks with sandals and think they are well dressed, and…..

But by differently, I mean that he has now decided to wear a dress shirt, you know, one of those things with a collar and buttons, and a tie and dress pants, every day. Every day means for all occasions, like sitting on the sofa and reading, and going to the grocery store, and walking around the neighborhood. He did keep one pair of overalls for digging in the garden, but that is it.
Dressed up means along sleeved shirt. And that shirt and tie are on top of his tzitzit- and it has been 92 degree Fahrenheit.

I never said he was smart.

I did tell Ely that I , over his objections, bought him two short sleeved whit4e shirts, but he hasn’t worn tem , yet. Maybe he is waiting for it to be 100 degrees.

At any rate, I should have realized what Ely’s next question would be, “What did he do with his clothes?”
“He got rid of them.”
”You let him get rid of them?”
Ely was appalled, he was sure that he could use some of the pants and t-shirts.
Ely breathed a sigh of relief when I said that the stuff was not quite all gone from the house, yet.
“But, Ely, Aaron is 6’3”!”
“Well, I’ve put on some muscle mass, and some weight. I now wear a size medium t-shirt.”

”Yes and Aaron wears an extra large. A large doesn’t’ cover his belly button!”

“Oh. But we have the same waist size.”
"No you don’t!”
”Yes we do, I have put on some weight! I can wear a 30, now.”
Okay, a 34 is not really bigger than a 30, if you have a good belt…. A very good belt. And maybe some suspenders.....
But…
“But Ely, Aaron is 6’3”.”
”Yeah. And.”

I hate to tell Ely this, but Ely is all of 5’5”…….

But I did promise to bring the two pairs of blue jeans that he is tossing ( the ones Sarah didn’t’ want) when we come to visit, in a couple of weeks……….They may need some minor alterations……

Remind me to take my camera.

Aaron has emailed :
"Minor" alterations? I think Ely will need to wear some stilts with them.
\
Giggle.

Love,

Aaron

Friday, June 10, 2011

Story of the Day 6/6/2011 – Addendum

This Story of the Day has generated a lot of messages an emails- not as comments, but as actual emails to my inbox and messages on Facebook.

As I wrote in response to a friend who had expressed concern about the “accessibility “ issues from the Story of the Day, “Clueless can be fixed, unfriendly can’t. And the people I have dealt with at the IU high school have all been friendly.”

At any rate, after an incredible number of emails, during which I was also asked to explain why Sarah would need an interpreter, ( in a friendly way, remember: clueless, but friendly ) , they are now poised to hire an interpreter for the midterm and the final. Now, we just have to get Sarah through one more chapter , so that she is ready fort the midterm!

Monday, June 6, 2011

Story of the Day 6/6/2011




My daughter, Sarah, is taking a math course, this summer. It is the first of two semesters of Algebra 2. She is also hoping to complete the second semester of the course, this summer, but of course, first things first, and first semester, first.

Generic children enrolled in Sarah’s school have three options. They can take the class during the school year, they can take it on-line, through an accredited on-line program, or they could take it during the school’s summer session.

Sarah is not generic. She is Deaf. She is also Jewish. Because she is Jewish, she cannot take it during the school’s summer session. The summer session has rules. One of the rules is that if you miss two days of the session you are automatically failed. Shavuot, which is a Jewish holy day that, this year, is on June 8th and June 9th, would require her to miss two days of the summer session for religious observance. Therefore, because she is Jewish, she cannot take the classes during the summer session.

That leaves two options, Sarah could take the class, this coming school year but she was very bored sitting through Geometry, this past year. She sat through the 50 plus minute class, every day, and except for a brief period of good interpreting, got to watch the interpreter make a fool out of him or herself while deriving absolutely no educational benefit, at least regarding math. She did learn a number of rude and crude sexual signs, but the teacher didn’t test on those.
She also learned how to measure the surface area of vaginas, right vaginas, and a slew of other interesting things that I never learned when I took Geometry, but unless she plans on becoming a gynecologist or a porn vidoegrapher, relatively useless information.

As result, it seemed like the best option was to have her enroll in an on-line course.

There are numerous on-line high school programs, but one that is run through Indiana University (that public university that just happens to be in the same state in which we live) has one that was recommended to Sarah by her high school. Sarah put in the paperwork to take the courses from them (Algebra 2, semesters 1 and 2) pre-approved and we waited, and waited and waited. They were approved but somehow the school forgot to notify us. At any rate, after nagging them a bit to double check the status of the request, I ordered the textbook for the course. I did this before enrolling Sarah because, since she is largely expected to teach herself from the textbook, if the textbook was awful, why was I going to pay a lot of money to register her for the course? As it turned out, the textbook is a good one, wit very clear explanations, and I enrolled her to take the class, just as the spring semester ended.

Sarah has made a schedule for herself, so that she will complete both semesters of the class, this summer, and be ready to take pre-calculus, at her high school, starting this fall semester. She sits at the kitchen table and grunts and groans as she does the problems. Occasionally, I hear a noise that is something vaguely resembling “Get your butt over here and help me!” as said by someone who doesn’t actually speak. So, I get my butt over to the table, and explain something. As she finishes each section of each lesson, she goes on-line and does the problems that are up. Then she goes back to the kitchen table to grunt and groan some more.

Sarah has just finished Lesson 2. There are 4 lessons, a review, and then a midterm exam. Being a very schedule oriented person, Sarah was concerned about how the exam is done. I told her to email her teacher and ask. The teacher, who only exists to us as a name and an email address happens to be very prompt, and replied in less than 24 hours. Midterms and finals are proctored…Okay, that was helpful, so I called up the office for the on-line program and asked, “Where?” At a local college or high school or at the public library. I voted for the public library. It is right near a Starbucks.

Then, I asked an important question, “Have you received the copy of her IEP?”

The woman I was speaking with very kindly ran off to check, while I waited on the phone. In almost no time at all, she returned to let me know that they didn’t have it…okay, at least I knew whom to contact. I quickly sent off an email to Sarah’s guidance counselor. And she promptly emailed me and let me know that she had previously sent it, and they had definitely received it, since they had called her about it, but she was sending another copy their way.

Shortly after this, I received an email from a different person at IU high school; they had received the original faxed IEP, but had been waiting for some information and so had not logged it.

I breathed a sigh of relief.

Then I sent the following email:

Dear Ms. B,

Thank you for the information. I was concerned, and had called, this morning, because Sarah has never taken an IU high school class before and I was concerned about the set up for taking the midterm examination; and I could envision her showing up and there being no interpreter. (I also called because I was not sure where I would need to take her for the exam- she is not ready, she has two lessons left before it, but she has her schedule posted on the refrigerator ad is working towards it.) I also assume we need to give you more than the standard amount of advanced notice before she can take the exam, so you can arrange for an interpreter?

Thank you, Cassia Margolis



It turns out that I breathed that sigh prematurely.
Apparently, this public program, even though I had previously informed them (when I enrolled Sarah, which I did over the telephone) that Sarah is Deaf and has an IEP and I requested the fax number, so it could be sent, didn’t understand that Sarah is Deaf.

I received this very interesting response:

Dear Cassia,
Hi. I am a highly paid school administrator w 25 yrs experience in coordinating programs for special ed students. I have received ur daughters iep & filed it into a very large drawer. I did not read it because all ieps are the same. Please have ur daughter contact me if she has any challenges & I will speak very slowly to her, the same way I do with the learning disabled, wheelchair-bound, blind, and asthmatic students.
Have a great summer! :)




Okay, I did NOT receive that response from the school, I received it from Lynne, after I sent her the response I received. She nicely summarized the previous two emails from them, in a rather insightful manner.

In truth, the actual response from the IU program was “interpreters are too expensive!” although, that is also a paraphrase, the original actually said: “The problem with an interpreter (I assumed you had one already) is that it is NOT easy for us to locate one and it will cost $$$$ for us to do so. Where are we then?”


I thought, “Should I explain to this person about the ADA?”, “Should I quote to her from the brochure from the program?”, “Should I scream?”
Well, instead I forwarded it to Lynne, who made me laugh. For the moment.

Of course, we still have to arrange for Sarah to take the exams…