(Visual) support can be beautiful

I'm newly enthusiastic about the effectiveness of visual supports for my kids on the autism spectrum. We've been using them for years, of course, along with their teachers at school, but I'm starting to think of some creative applications on my own.

A simple example: Brian's kindergarten orientation was this morning. He "felt sick" before we went, and I knew it was nerves. On our way out the door, I tucked my camera in my purse, thinking that maybe a few photos of his classroom could help him manage his anxiety until Tuesday morning, when his classes will start.

Toward the end of the orientation, I asked his teacher's permission to snap some photos of the room (not the children), which she readily granted. I took a few shots of the various areas of the room: the meeting rug, a play area, the computers and clock (always Brian's favorites), his cubby, and the room number sign.

When we got home, I printed them out in wallet size, all on one piece of paper. No text, nothing fancy. He was thrilled. He looked at them for a few minutes, hung them on the refrigerator, then promptly announced, "I'm not worried about kindergarten any more!" That's my boy.

Another example: Last week I blogged about Abby being trained on kid-sized weightlifting machines at the Y. She completed her three training sessions, but still has difficulty managing the multiple steps required for each machine, let alone actually being able to record her progress. The Y does have a weight training class for kids with Asperger's, but it's designed for older kids, and they meet in a quiet training room with adult-sized equipment, which is too big for Abby. That will be great in a few years, but doesn't help her now.

I then contacted the director of the Partnership Program, which trains and provides volunteers to assist people with disabilities. When I called, I was informed that the program is for adults with disabilities, not children.

The director then asked me if I could be Abby's volunteer.

Now, I love the Y. Earl and I have been members there for something like 15 years. The kids take their swimming lessons there; the babysitting staff is terrific; I've burned countless calories there and the organization does a lot of wonderful things for the community, as well. But I have to admit, it was hard for me to control my irritation when it was suggested to me that I work with Abby, myself.

I love my daughter. I would, and do, go to great lengths for her. But there are two reasons I will not work with her on her weight training:

1. I want this to be something she can do without relying on me, to develop a healthy habit, to enjoy the self-esteem from accomplishing something out of the ordinary for her; and
   
2. I want my own workout time! My idea is that she can exercise on the kids' equipment while I use the adult equipment on the same floor (per Y rules.) Of course, I could shadow her, and then she could shadow me, but that's not time-efficient in a busy family, and getting to the Y involves 20 minutes of travel time, as it is.

After grumbling about this situation for a little while, I decided to make Abby a workout book. I took the outrageously complicated (for a kid with Asperger's) workout card and created a simple, step-by-step process for each machine. I cut these out, and put them into the pages of a pocket-sized photo album, with a few clip art illustrations of exercise, equipment, stretching, and even a squirt bottle (to remind her to clean the machines after using them.) I even found a pug clip art, and put it in there after the stretching page, and wrote "Good job! Rozzie would be proud!" (Rozzie is my mom's dog, whom Abby adores.)

She loved the book, and is very excited to try it out. Test flight, tomorrow morning, when Abby and I have a girls' outing at the gym and the mall. I'm crossing my fingers that it works for her. I may need to tweak it, but I'll do it, if it means that she'll be able to do it, by herself.