RDI Community

To Gaze or Not To Gaze, That is the Question

Elizabeth Alford — Tue, 15 May 2012 14:12:00 GMT

Gaze aversion in autism has been the subject of many scholarly articles and therapeutic interventions. I remember a well-known speaker suggesting that a nanny had been especially helpful by saying, “look at me”, while using just the right pressure on the chin to ensure that the child would look at her eyes.

Other early interventions included “quiet hands” along with admonitions to stop stereotypical behavior. As RDI became more developmentally based, and as the guiding relationship became more foundational for all of our work, we began to understand the importance of reading signals; sometimes internally-sometimes externally generated.

A small piece of this process is an area that comes naturally to parents but one that we have found takes considerable thought and preparation for parents who have children on the spectrum. This is an area sometimes referred to as framing. Easily understood, if you consider a photo and the purpose of the frame in drawing your attention to the subject matter. Having said this, it may be easier to talk about support if we leave the picture frame on the wall rather than try to make this static analogy dynamic.

I’ll return to gaze in a moment. But, with any area where we are involved guiding another person, whether parenting or mentorship, it’s most important to have a clear definition of what you hope to accomplish. Having a clear-cut objective that is reasonably stated within a developmental track is extremely important. Without this objective in mind, it is possible to inadvertently mistake an activity for the objective one is attempting to address.

So, while gaze aversion is something we all do when are thinking, it can also be a signal of stress, especially when an activity chosen to address an objective is not used in a way that helps the child reach toward his own competence. Thus, helping a child understand that s/he can reference a parent to find meaning and take action when confused is a delicate undertaking.

A simple walk can establish a regulatory pattern and small changes in the walk can provide enough small differences to trigger this response. But, imagine if an enormous amount of complexity is introduced and the guide introduces multiple changes at a very fast pace. The self-perception of competence is undermined. Rather than figuring out where to look and how to decide what to do, the child is placed in a state of chaos.

Do you know where this edge of competence is for your child? Many factors can be combined to smooth the path that will support your ability to lead and your child’s desire to take on his own learning. In RDI™ we are always looking for a way to help children realize the importance of using their minds, not those of others to solve problems. More next week.

Walk a mile in my shoes. Observe your child today. When does he feel most relaxed and most easily engaged. What are the complexities that lead to overload and withdrawal-not to think but to avoid thinking.

FAQs About the Family Consultation Program

Elizabeth Alford — Tue, 24 Apr 2012 15:32:00 GMT

The cornerstone program of RDIconnect is the Family Consultation Program (FCP). Developed by Dr Steven Gutstein, the FCP has helped many families find hope and help when struggling with a child with development needs. The following are a set of FAQs to give an overview of the program.

What is the Family Consultation Program?
The RDI Family Consultation Program was designed to help families restore the natural "Guiding Relationship" when it has been disrupted or has failed to develop. Parents work with a trained RDI Family Consultant to harness the immense potential residing within each family. The goal is to to provide parents with tools and the knowledge of how best to use these tools function as a 'Guide' and facilitate their child’s mental growth. The program has provided a second chance for thousands of families worldwide to resume the critical functions that are the universal basis of family life and their children's success in the 21st century world. Our program mission can be condensed into two statements:

1 - Teaching parents to guide their children in a manner that builds Students' competent enactment of their role as mentally active dynamic learning Apprentices.

2 - Teaching parents to guide their children in a manner that builds the Students' essential motivation, responsibility and neural foundations for Dynamic Intelligence.

What is the problem? Why is this program necessary?
Most of us are fortunate to have grown up and raised our children in circumstances where things largely go as they should. We may think that parenting is difficult, but in reality we take our good fortune for granted. Our children’s development takes place in the context of a natural intuitive "Guiding Relationship."

If we were fortunate and all our stars lined up the way they were supposed to, we could remain blissfully unaware of this behind-the-scenes brain and mind building process we call the Guiding Relationship. That is, if nothing went wrong. But what if it did? What if, for example, a child was born with neural vulnerabilities that were so great, that they disrupted the natural process?

The most talented guides cannot succeed when they are unable to obtain reliable feedback from the child to determine the “edge” of their child’s competence. Without this feedback, guides can no longer safely present productive challenges. The process quickly breaks down or never develops in the first place. Some children, such as those with Autism Spectrum Disorders, are born with such significant neurological problems that even the most capable parent is unable to function as a Guide. Until our program was initiated in 2001 an initial failure to form a Guiding Relationship meant that opportunities for children's dynamic mental and neural development were irrevocably lost. There were no courses in Guiding. There were no books or manuals.

What is the value of the Guiding Relationship?

Children who learn to actively engage with the support of their parents in safe but challenging learning opportunities–problems and situations that are just beyond their level of competence–develop a strong motivation to explore and expand their world, as well as develop competence and trust in themselves and their Guides.

By the end of the first year of life, infants who have experienced success in the Guiding Relationship, respond to the experience of uncertainty, by entering a state of mind Scientists refer to as "Studying." When children are in a state of Studying, their heart rate slows, their movement decreases and their attention clarifies. Once they decide to engage with new situations, children's brains release powerful, highly pleasurable neuro-chemicals that sustain their engagement. Their brains also begin exploring new neural connections, determining which best provide the new integration needed to solve the problem.

What are the consequences if the Guiding Relationship does not develop?

Children who do not receive the benefits of a functional Guiding Relationship go through life perceiving their world as pervasively threatening. Their innate drive for curiosity and understanding is buried. Children perceive themselves as incompetent and fragile. New problems and settings are experienced as too difficult, new information too discrepant. Their strategy is to pervasively avoid and withdraw from any problems and situations they perceive as new or different, as well as those persons associated with them.

Without the Guiding Relationship, the child's brain fails to develop in a neurally integrated manner. Children's minds fail to develop critical abilities needed to understand change, to perceive the world from different perspectives, to perceive shades of “grey” rather than viewing problems as either “black or white.” The child grows up unable to speculate, wonder, or improvise. When problems do not work out as planned they have no way to adapt.

Children do not develop feelings of competence
Parent lose their sense of empowerment

How do you Measure Success?

The Family Consultation Program assumes that relationships–the consultant-parent relationship, along with the supportive partnership of Parents and the Student "Apprentice,"–are the primary vehicles for progress and eventual success.

The program is considered successful once the Guiding Relationship between parents and the vulnerable child becomes solidly established and provides a learning environment for the child's development of Dynamic Intelligence.

Success is also determined by the Students' ability to transfer their "Apprentice" role to other safe, consistent adult guides.
In the final analysis, success cannot be measured by checking mastered objectives off a list. Rather, it must be based on the ability of the family to construct and maintain an environment for the vulnerable child that provides lifelong opportunities for mental growth and that eventually leads to the child's self-management and personal ownership of development.

Who participates in the Family Consultation Program?

Program participants include parents and concerned family members, along with a vulnerable "child" of any age. Children may have been born with or acquire neurologically-based vulnerabilities that obstruct the development of the natural Guiding Relationship. Parents often enter the program possessing "normal" parenting abilities. Frequently, they successfully guide or have guided the vulnerable child's siblings. However, when deprived of active participation and accurate feedback, even the most masterful Guides cannot be successful.

What is the length of time a family will participate in the program?

The Family Consultation Program has no defined program length. The program is designed to accommodate parents and children with a wide range of obstacles and handicapping conditions. Therefore participation may range anywhere from months to years.

A Compassionate Stranger

Elizabeth Alford — Mon, 09 Apr 2012 17:43:00 GMT

We have all had the experience of being in the super market with a difficult child, our discomfort exacerbated by the eye aversion of well-meaning adults. For parents of children with special needs, whether physical or neurological, this aversion of gaze can sometimes have the unintended effect of further isolation.

Recently I was talking to a mother whose 10 year-old with autism had a meltdown at the grocery store. He wanted the toy car, she said "no" and he threw himself on the ground, repetitively shouting. We can all relate to this mother's discomfort and many of us would have bought him the car just to curb our own embarrassment, even if we threw it away at home. But this mother didn't give in, even though she was aware of her spectacle; what she believed others were saying or thinking about her. What happened next, however, was not only a surprise but a compassionate moment from a total stranger. There was a light touch on her arms, she turned to see a much older lady standing next to her. "Stick to your guns, honey, you're doing great."

I was reminded of her encounter recently as I watched "What would you do?", a television show that sets up scenarios where people need to decide whether or not they will interfere in the lives of strangers who cross their paths. The compassion or avoidance of strangers is striking and understandable. However, for this mother, it was life changing and although she never saw the woman again, she says it seemed like an angel was sent, just when she needed her.

One imagines that the "angel" had interfered in people's lives many times over the course of her life. There were probably times when people responded as this mother did but there may have been rebuffs as well. For whatever reason, the woman remained compassionate-she wasn't judging this mother nor was she judging her child. She was a mother encouraging another mother. She didn't take over neither did she tell her what to do. She walked alongside her for a few seconds and the mother was no longer alone.

As you move throughout your day, we hope you feel and project compassion with your fellow sojourners...those you meet along the way..

A Different Easter by Rachelle Sheely, Ph.D.

Elizabeth Alford — Tue, 03 Apr 2012 14:06:00 GMT

Just as the seeds of autumn germinate and bloom in the rich Easter soil, so do our efforts bear fruit for the children we love.

As the Christian world approaches the most holy of days, I remember two young autistic boys and their unraveling, perhaps retelling, of the Easter Story.

Jacob and Will began their communication journey from similar points but different capabilities. One had almost no language; one extreme verbosity. Both lacked conversational ability and a paucity of response to facial expression, prosody and other nonverbal information. While their parents replicated with us a passage similar to that of parents who guide their typically developing children, the boys had their own work to do- to become eager apprentices to their parents. By the time they entered this dyad, Will and Jacob were resilient, flexible and passionate about their friendship. When the following conversation took place they had begun to organize for themselves the time they spent together.

May, 2001

Will and Jacob began their dyad on this spring day by pretending they were variously Charlie Brown and "Puppermint Putty", playing off the Peanuts, Easter Beagle video. There were no props. Their little minds fed off each other with nimble ferocity. And, then, in synchronous response to some imperceptible signal, their play took on a different tone and their voices transitioned from playfully familiar to seriously grave.

Will: Pretending he's on fire. "Jacob, help me. It's an emergency"

Jacob: Dials 911, pretending his hand is a phone. "Is this the hospital? Will's on fire."

Jacob puts down the phone and rushes to the hospital where he is now a surgeon. He pretends to operate on Will.

Jacob: Very sadly he says, "Will, You're dead"

Will: Mirroring Jacob's expression, "You're too late"

As children's play goes:

Jacob: "You'll feel better in the morning" He picks up the phone and calls G_D. He pauses at the end of each sentence

listening carefully to the person on the other end. "Come get Will, he's dead" "OK, I know what to do." "Bye"

Will: Looks up at Jacob and asks, "What are you doing here?"

Jacob: "I'm Jesus" He poses with his arms outstretched and in a low serious voice says "Go to New York and see the others."

Will: "Where's G_d"

Jacob: Points up and gets Will to G_d.

Will: Will picks up the telephone to talk to G_D. "I want to go back" As if listening carefully he yells, "Going to hell? I better call my mom."

The boys return to the same theme.

Will is dead again.

Jacob calls Jesus who tells him to "Go get Will"

Jacob, assuming a different role, "Hello Will I'm Jesus. Your hands aren't burned any more. Get up. Go to the city and see your mom and dad."

Will does not cooperate and continues to pretend he's dead

Jacob pretends to pour water on him.

Will stretches.

Jacob shouts, "He's alive! He's alive"

The boys reverse roles.

Jacob is dead.

Will walks in and says "I'm Jesus, It's at heaven." Then he jumps on Jacob and pretends to resuscitate him by pushing his hands into his chest.

Jacob jumps up healed.

The reason we remember with clarity moments such as these is because we sense we are traveling through the cusp of a true awakening of minds that have been disconnected and static. Bearing witness to this free-form type of play assures us that spring not only comes in the temporal world but to the world of autism as well.

Where they are now: It has been 5 or 6 years since I've seen Jacob and Will. During the writing of this blog I touched based with their parents:

Will is 17 and attends boarding school. He enjoys traveling independently, plays the guitar and will soon be driving solo. He is a sensitive, good friend to the many guys he hangs out with. A master of timing and comedic phrases, there seems to be a stand-up career in his future.

Jacob is 17 and attends public school where he advocates for himself. Jacob has a strong faith in God and is in leadership to "Do Hard Things" which he regularly does for himself. An accomplished musician, Jacob participated in Honor Orchestra of America, and improvises on vibes in jazz band. He is sensitive to others. And, yes, he too is driving.

Sink or Swim #21

Elizabeth Alford — Tue, 27 Mar 2012 21:40:00 GMT

Family chores, a lackluster favorite of all children and parents, often took front and center in Ellen’s family, mostly for what went undone. Both Ellen and her brother tried to get out of their jobs, one difference being that when her brother agreed to and set about doing his job he completed them quickly. Ellen, on the other hand often started with the same determination but lost focus and wandered off midstream to do something that else that caught her eye. It was hard to sort out whether this was due to intent or disorganization, which made it important to find out.

Standing in the doorway of a living room that contained a soda can, residue of homework, a couple of craft projects, and various toys, Ellen’s mother asked why she had not cleaned up after herself to which Ellen replied that she would. After picking up a couple of things, she suddenly became absorbed in an incomplete craft project. Although it was tempting to assume that she simply didn’t want to clean (and who would?) her mother needed to understand how Ellen saw the room and in doing so recognized not only distractibility but disorganization.

The question about whether Ellen’s messes were related to ASD became secondary to her family’s belief that everybody in their family should contribute and take care of not only themselves but each other as well. And, while it might take a little more scaffolding, a little more guidance, their expectations for her remained high.

The first question was whether she could actually recognize everything that was out of place. And, for whatever reason, she couldn’t. She seemed unable to sustain attention long enough or thoroughly enough to do so even tell her mother what was out of place. This, then became their beginning point.

Pencil and paper in hand, Ellen’s mother divided the room into four parts, reducing the area that required attention, teaching Ellen that breaking a big task into smaller ones makes it more manageable. As they physically moved from quadrant to quadrant, Ellen identified each item that was out of place and wrote it down. These were numbered 1-4 so that when they moved back into the original doorway, she could actually look into the room, see and say what was out of place in each quadrant, thereby covering the entire room.

Next week, I will explain how this beginning exercise led to a more capable, self-sufficient girl.

*I have been asked if Ellen is a real person. The answer is yes and no. I have used the persona of Ellen to illustrate various principles of RDI. The vignettes are taken from my work

Sink or Swim #20

Elizabeth Alford — Tue, 20 Mar 2012 16:32:00 GMT

Sink or Swim: The continuing adventures of Ellen
by Rachelle Sheely, Ph.D.

As Ellen's parents became increasingly better in their ability to set up decision making opportunities, she continued to become a better apprentice. She was more confident and there was a notable inverse relationship between her burgeoning competence and the controlling behaviors that had previously marked their interactions. They later laughed as they remembered that every step forward seemed to provide new challenges for them. At the time, they probably wouldn't have referred to their discoveries as opportunities, although in retrospect they were glad that they had been good observers of where Ellen was stuck and how they could continue to guide her.

Most of us, as parents, believe that we should not compare our children. Each is different and has his or her own gifted sparkle. But, when parents are learning to guide a child born with neurological difference, observing a typically developing child can provide a road map. During our consultations, Ellen's brother's name often emerged-what he could do, what he wouldn't do. "Just like her brother, she tried to get out of taking out the trash...he didn't put the dishes away." "He said he forgot."

Sometimes he did and sometimes he didn't. And, it was the same with Ellen; sometimes she forgot and sometimes she just didn't want to help out. A rule of thumb....autism shouldn't change your expectations for your child. The route you take as you move them toward adulthood may have a few extra twists and turns but the focus has to stay intact.

Of course, the perspective of the future is not always readily present in the everyday moments that require parenting. One such problem was probably related to both volition or memory. Cleaning, sweeping up the mess in your room... next week.

Competence the Antidote for Everything: The Card Catalogue

Rachelle Sheely — Thu, 14 Jul 2011 20:07:00 GMT

Competence, The Antidote for Everything

The Card Catalogue

Googling information on an unfamiliar syndrome a few weeks ago, I found volumes of material, opinions, treatment suggestions, possible medications and their side effects. This is something I have come to expect and it is no longer surprising to quickly find obscure information when I search for it. What is unusual is for information to not be immediately available. A true disappointment, as I have come to depend more and more upon the effortless acquisition of getting what I want, when I want it.

By contrast research, term papers as they were called, used to require a trip to the library, a perusal of the card catalogue, and a search through dusty tomes to support a literature review and formidable bibliography. There was an intensity to this, especially the painstakingly organized 3 x 5 cards a seventh grade teacher hoped she would never have to read. Typically, a six or eight week project, the final product was a meticulously handwritten document or if one was lucky enough to have a typewriter, a perfectly typed paper. An advertisement for yellow pages “let your fingers do the walking” now seems a good description of this lugubrious process.

While this is not a call for a return to outmoded forms of communication, it is a reflection on something that I miss; the luxury of a slower pace—time to develop thinking and reflection in the apprentices we guide. This came to mind recently when I Googled information on the internet that did not materialize. Somewhat irritated, I looked for shortcuts to avoid taking the requisite time to find what I was looking for. Fortunately and unfortunately, I was unable to do so.

During a pre-babies doctoral program in the arts and sciences at Rutgers University, I taught school in Trenton New Jersey. Being a doctoral student at Rutgers gave me access to the Princeton University and The State of New Jersey libraries. Those of us lucky enough to have spent time at Princeton, can attest to the special grandeur of it—the old stone buildings, the spikes of ivy outliving the graduation classes that planted them, sculptures by Picasso. Carefully balanced on the shelves in the art library were original, obscure publications which students could pile onto carrels and leave for a few days beside the dusty windows. There were people to talk to, a sculptor or composer, and a project on art of the baroque period might be displaced by music of the classical period. At the State of New Jersey Library, with its works by Ben Shahn, one might rub elbows with a legislator, the secretary to the governor or a NY poet who was exploring his work by reading crossword puzzles aloud. All of this became fodder for the second grade classroom where I guided my charges every day. And, while there is nothing magical about being slow, a slower pace is a requirement for learners’ minds to become thoughtful and creative.

Miss Dempster, my own second grade teacher, who I might add was a bit harsh, would have appreciated the time-consuming nature of all this. It has taken me years to understand why. Prior to the opening of school, parents bargain-shopped for a standard list of supplies, pencils, erasers, paste, paper, crayons and scissors. Miss Dempster confiscated the erasers. We were to think before we wrote and we were not to waste paper or her time by thinking out loud or thinking on paper. Creative projects in her class took time. The answers to questions, whether written or visual, unfolded first in our minds. And, not everything that came to mind was grist for exploration or worthy of a good grade. This meant that steps and procedures, juxtapositions and elaborations were internally developed before realized on paper.

Who would have time or take time for such a thing now. And yet, our work with persons on the autism spectrum requires it. Slowing down allows space for a flexible approach to ever-increasing difficult problems. It encourages a mindful approach to everyday living. Moderating a more measured pace gives those we wish to guide the requisite time to develop internal language and thought, to absorb and mindfully acquire not only information but ways to use it.

I still sharpen pencils and love a great eraser. Although her influence was a dismal failure as it related to erasers, Ms. Dempster would be satisfied that the time she afforded the development of minds, thoughtfulness and careful planning remains a standard for the vocation she devoted her life to.

There are two 6 year old boys in our office today. They are on spring break and spending time together while their mothers work. They have played with the paper cups from our cooler for almost a full day. At least twenty have been turned into small rubber band instruments with the rubber band making a different sound as it is plucked on one or the other end of the cup. Each of us got to choose a “cuptar” (cup + guitar) depending on the sound we liked and we could keep the instrument after we’d signed our names saying we would not ask for another one. One can only imagine what discoveries were made. But, one need not speculate very long to see that the gift of time was a catalyst for this magnificent project.

Spurred by nostalgia, perhaps for the scent of mildew, I visited our local library. It had been years. I own a Kindle. I Google and shop at Ebay and Amazon. Excited by the epiphany of a slower pace, fostered by the boys in our office, and the prospect of allowing my mind to freely peruse an unwieldy organization of information, I imagined moving alphabetically through the card catalogue from chrysalis to chrysanthemum. With my driver’s license in hand to show residency I approached the librarian—she was much younger and better dressed than I remembered. Where is the card catalogue, I asked. She asked me to wait. “The director says we do not have a catalogue of cards” she replied.

An RDI Parent Shares her Journey

Laura Morehead — Mon, 13 Jun 2011 16:34:00 GMT

The following letter was written by an RDI parent to her colleagues. She has given me permission to upload it onto my blog. I hope you enjoy it.

Dr. Sheely

I promised an update on our foray into a new therapeutic approach to helping our kids (ages eight and twelve) who both have high functioning autism, Asperger's syndrome. We are very early in the process, but it has been an interesting adventure. We are seeing significant improvement in both kids after only a short time, so I thought it was worth letting you all know what we are learning.

We are participating in a program called Relationship Development Intervention (RDI®). We've been at it for roughly four months now and I have very positive feelings about this program.

The first two and a half months were devoted to explaining how kids typically develop and what goes wrong in the development of kids with autism. Dr. Steven Gutstein is careful to not blame the parents - he repeatedly states that the kids are not wired to respond as typical children do to our attempts as parents to engage them in reciprocal behaviors.

In the absence of reinforcement for our attempts to engage, we stop trying. The children then don't develop the skills that build on reciprocity because they are either not ready to learn them or because the parents stop trying, or both. Because I am the way I am, it made me feel like I had missed a lot of opportunities to help my kids develop "normally" (This was my problem - not a problem).

The first ten weeks involved a series of exercises during which we learned about the "Guided Participation Relationship" (between parents and their children), and how the relationship breaks down. It was pretty depressing. Then we learned about the methodologies we would be using to re-establish the relationship and the skills we would be teaching ourselves and our children.

Dr. Gutstein has broken typical development into a complex hierarchy of skills. It is very clearly laid out and because of my graduate training in psychology, I can say that his approach is well-grounded in respected research findings. It's really an incredible thing he's done - and I feel strongly that it's a methodical and appropriate approach.

We are now eleven "objectives" into the program, and the kids are already noticeably more attuned to our nonverbal cues. The program starts with those sorts of cues - including things like tone of voice, eye gaze, pointing, noticing when someone comes into the room, etc. We are also practicing appropriate scaffolding of learning new skills including introducing just the right degree of "productive uncertainty".

You have to videotape yourself interacting with your child using the technique you are practicing each week. You then watch the video and critique it. You send a copy to your teacher, and s/he will critique it as well (including providing both negative and positive feedback.) This has been, for me, one of the most interesting parts of the process.

Video tapes don't lie - and I've noticed all sorts of things I do with my kids. As a result, it has helped me correct myself and be a better parent. For example, I have a tendency to jump in way too soon to help my kids - I don't give them time to figure out problems for themselves (I've been conditioned to do that because of their anxiety, but the videos reveal that it's quite noticeable that they could use more freedom). So I'm working really hard on backing off.

There's a huge emphasis on doing this in your natural environment while doing tasks that are natural for your family anyway, like cooking, setting the table, cleaning your room, etc. That's also really good for us - reminding us that the kids can and should be helping with those tasks.

What would you think would be the most interesting thing about it? The kids like doing the exercises with us. They actually look forward to it.

If you are interested in learning more, The RDI Book is currently on sale for half price on rdiconnect.com. It's a good overview of the process and I think you could do a lot on your own even just by just reading the book. I'd recommend the program for any child on the spectrum, as well as for children with NVLD.

Sincerely,

RDI® Parent

While this mom did give permission to use her name, I prefer not to do so. I am so appreciative of her insight into her journey and hope she will provide updates. Best wishes to this family.

Competence, the Antidote for Everything by Rachelle Sheely, Ph.D.

Rachelle Sheely — Fri, 20 May 2011 18:55:00 GMT

“You are my princess”

Nearly 12 years ago now, I had the privilege of observing the guiding relationship between a father and his little girl that stretched my understanding of the power of love, the gift of time and the determination that stemmed from belief that limits were not for him and his “princess”. It unfolded during a part of our assessment where we ask each parent to spend time with their child to help her get comfortable in our setting. Feeling that parents know their children best, we leave many of the particulars up to them. Thus, it began with her asking her father to sing the “princess” song to her. “You are my princess, the prettiest little girl…..” While I don’t remember the song as fully as I used to, I still remember the rhythm, the melody and the soothing quality it had.

At that time we had a series of increasingly difficult activities which were structured to observe the ability of parents to guide and the desire of the child to learn. One such string of activities began with simple ball throwing, culminating in a simultaneous two-ball toss. Thinking it was too difficult, I said that we could move on to the next series of activities and needn’t bother with it. The father interrupted me “what do you think, princess, can we do it?”

With the same melody I’d heard earlier, he slowly guided and paced the activity with a structure that allowed mastery of this very difficult game. Although I’ve observed many capable parents over the years, I remember this for two reasons. The father’s focus was on his daughter’s feeling of competence, with the task assuming secondary importance. Thus, she would finish the game feeling that she was smart; he had engaged her mind rather than simply teaching her to throw the ball. The other reason this story sticks in my memory is that she was also blind.

It is tempting to turn over the education of our children to people who have different expertise from us. And, there are times when we are told and believe that the problems they face are best served by others. This is because life does throw us unexpected curves; autism, a whole array of learning disabilities, varying styles of different parents and most certainly the tension of the times created by the fast pace in which we live. Still, there are parents I see every day who continue to develop their children’s minds, their character and they do so with grace and good humor. Empowering them, guiding them to find their competent voice and to release the competence that is inherent in their child’s potential. Competence, the best motivator; a better motivator than even joy or entertainment.

As we find ourselves more intensely involved in the vast amounts of information at our finger tips it is easy to be enamored and blindsided by its acquisition and availability. As parents, as consultants and as guides, continuing this side-by-side journey with those we care about reminds us that it’s not the sheer accumulation of information that helps the apprentice move forward but what he is able to do with the information he has.

More on competence in future blogs. Thnx for being here.

Rachelle K. Sheely, PhD

Twitter: RDIconnect or mindfulguiding

Competence the Antidote for Everything: A Different Easter

Rachelle Sheely — Thu, 14 Apr 2011 18:38:00 GMT

Just as the seeds of autumn germinate and bloom in the rich Easter soil, so do our efforts bear fruit for the children we love.

As the Christian world approaches the most holy of days, I remember two young autistic boys and their unraveling, perhaps retelling, of the Easter Story.

Jacob and Will began their communication journey from similar points but different capabilities. One had almost no language; one extreme verbosity. Both lacked conversational ability and a paucity of response to facial expression, prosody and other nonverbal information. While their parents replicated with us a passage similar to that of parents who guide their typically developing children, the boys had their own work to do— to become eager apprentices to their parents. By the time they entered this dyad, Will and Jacob were resilient, flexible and passionate about their friendship. When the following conversation took place they had begun to organize for themselves the time they spent together.

May 2001

Will and Jacob began their dyad on this spring day by pretending they were variously Charlie Brown and “Puppermint Putty”, playing off the Peanuts, Easter Beagle video. There were no props. Their little minds fed off each other with nimble ferocity. And, then, in synchronous response to some imperceptible signal, their play took on a different tone and their voices transitioned from playfully familiar to seriously grave.

Will: Pretending he’s on fire.

“Jacob, help me. It’s an emergency”

Jacob: Dials 911, pretending his hand is a phone.

“Is the hospital? Will’s on fire.”

Jacob puts down the phone and rushes to the hospital where he is now a surgeon. He pretends to operate on Will.

Jacob: very sadly: “Will, You’re dead”

Will: mirroring Jacob’s expression: “You’re too late”

As children’s play goes:

Jacob: “You’ll feel better in the morning”

Jacob: Picks up the phone and calls G_D. He pauses at the end of each sentence listening carefully to the person on the other end.

“Come get Will, he’s dead”

“OK, I know what to do.”

“Bye”

Will: Looks up at Jacob and asks “What are you doing here?”

Jacob: “I’m Jesus” He poses with his arms outstretched and in a low serious voice says “Go to New York and see the others.”

Will: “Where’s G_d”

Jacob: Points up and gets Will to G_d.

Will: Will picks up the telephone to talk to G_D.

“I want to go back”

As if listening carefully he yells,

“Going to hell? I better call my mom.”

The boys return to the same theme.

Will is dead again.

Jacob calls Jesus who tells him to “Go get Will”

Jacob, assuming a different role, “Hello Will I’m Jesus. Your hands aren’t burned any more. Get up. Go to the city and see your mom and dad.”

Will does not cooperate and continues to pretend he’s dead

Jacob pretends to pour water on him.

Will stretches.

Jacob shouts, “He’s alive! He’s alive”

The boys reverse roles.

Jacob is dead.

Will walks in and says “I’m Jesus, It’s at heaven.” Then he jumps on Jacob and pretends to resuscitate him by pushing his hands into his chest.

Jacob jumps up healed.

The reason we remember with clarity moments such as these is because we sense we are travelling through the cusp of a true awakening of minds that have been disconnected and static. Bearing witness to this free-form type of play assures us that spring not only comes in the temporal world but to the world of autism as well.

Where they are now...It has been over 6 years since I’ve seen Jacob and Will. During the writing of this blog I touched base with their parents.

Will is 17 and attends boarding school. He enjoys travelling independently, plays the guitar will soon be driving solo. He is a sensitive, good friend to the many guys he hangs out with. A master of timing and comedic phrases, there seems to be a stand-up career in his future.

Jacob is 17 and attends public school where he advocates for himself. Jacob has a strong faith in God and is in leadership to “Do Hard Things” which he regularly does for himself. An accomplished musician, Jacob participated in Honor Orchestra of America, and improvises on vibes in jazz band. He is sensitive to others. And, yes, he too is driving.

Competence the Antidote for Everything: Those Aha Moments

Rachelle Sheely — Tue, 05 Apr 2011 16:45:00 GMT

We are so pleased to post this week’s blog from Mitali Vaidya, guest author and RDI parent, who shares her journey of discovery with her son Tanmay. Mitali’s story is inspiring, touching and full of "aha" moments. As you read, I hope her words resonate and encourage you as they did me. --Dr. Rachelle K. Sheely

Getting back to Parenting

Our lives changed when my son was two years old – Autism took centre stage. We followed the prescribed route: Intensive ABA, speech & OT. I was longing to see the genuine twinkle of excitement in his eyes, and the warm smile that lit up his face when we interacted. By the time he was three, he experienced no joy, connection or engagement with us – he was our “escape artist” anxious to get away as soon as he could from our barrage of demands. We wanted him to look up to us for guidance rather than look away. We were fed up of teaching him in the same static method.

The nagging question that troubled me was: How much could I teach that would be enough in this dynamic world? When would he learn to LEARN, to monitor his environment, to recognize and adapt to the requirements of his surroundings? And most importantly, when would he have the joy of learning and accomplishment?

He had just turned three, when we started RDI and got answers to many of our questions. Initially, we STRUGGLED to understand what to do and how to do.....But a year into it, we are still learning and have realistic hope.

Letting go of the target -setting and information-stuffing

Moving to a more experience-sharing interaction was a major leap of faith for us and a welcome rejuvenating change for our son. Every new objective that we worked on together shed new light on various RDI principles such as the importance of the pause, the slow pace, the trust that we put in him, the relaxed atmosphere that optimized the interaction, the ‘just-right’ challenge that spiced up the activity and boosted up his feeling of competence, etc. Not to mention the lack of all these that watered down his interest and participation in what we were doing.

We learnt from our mistakes and he benefited from our learning. As we mulled over each objective, we were continually realizing the innumerable opportunities that even a routine day offered as a back drop for the kind of learning we knew our son needed to succeed in this dynamic world.

As we foray into this exciting arena of Mindful Parenting, it’s difficult, different, and much more deliberate as compared to other ways; but it is equally delightful. We are parents and guides to our son, no longer instructors or therapists. Our pauses tell him ‘we believe in his capability to do it, yet we are there to help if it’s too much at the moment’. He also rewards us with his meaningful gazes of acknowledgement, smiles of competence, the joy of co-operation & participation. The pause let us marvel at how much he is able to accomplish with his own thinking, and each such episode gives him more confidence for the next.

Giving him responsibilities and defined roles he can be competent in has helped make him more aware of his surroundings and more alert to the clues he receives from them. Many a time, he has surprised us with his actions based on his earlier experiences, and observation, which we had not expected him to.

Each new day begins with the excitement of what we are to share today, and the effort to keep ‘target-orientedness’ at bay. As well as to curb the greed to present challenges - overwhelming in either their number or complexity. It’s fun to find new ways to make similar activities more dynamic, provide new responsibilities, and it’s a delight to see him progress in his motor capabilities, his cognition and learning from experience. But we have to strive to subdue the impulses to help him at every juncture and watch with amazement as he unravels his own potential step-by-small step. His level of engagement with us, his connection with the activity is like a meter for us to know if we are in sync with him. Given the right conditions we have found him much more open to our suggestions and eager to interact, rather than stay away. So if things are not going well, we have learnt to look within ourselves to mend things. We are more focused on what he can and will be able to do rather than what he cannot do.

We have always got the best response when all the GPR (Guided Participation Relationship) aspects have been in place. We have had our most pleasant surprises when we were least expecting or demanding them. The pauses and gentle encouragement has been much more rewarding than hours of slogging together with instructions and prompts.

My son does not speak yet. Our primary and stinging worry about lack of speech takes a back seat – he has myriad ways in which he communicates: wonderful shared gazes, meaningful warm smiles, attempted gestures, budding facial expressions, and his growing understanding of our spoken as well as unspoken (non-verbal communication) words. We have begun to enjoy his individuality as a whole rather than judging his intellect from the words he speaks, the objects he points to or commands he obeys.

Together we have celebrated the various FIRSTS: the first time he followed our gaze, searched for information from our faces, looked back when unsure, shared his joy at finding something, referenced us when he met a stranger, made a little gesture for asking for help, imitated willingly, was happy to see his dad come home, initiated an interaction, tried to continue a game, smiled back when he smiled at him, expressed his love by coming close and giving me a hug, communicated that he did not want a particular thing, solved a problem on his own, tried again after the first attempt failed, etc. The list has just begun.

As I am signing off, I can hear a lot of chirping in the birdie’s nest outside. The mom is teaching her nestlings to fly, one of their life’s most crucial lessons. No words, no letters, no sheets, just modelling and gentle encouragement and reassurance ….lots of GPR. I wish the little birdie and his mom lots of joy and success as I go back to my little one for our own flying lessons.

Mitali

Mitali Vaidya is Mum to four year-old Tanmay. She lives in Mumbai and where she works with Carol Subramani, her RDI consultant.

Based on the work of Dr. Steven Gutstein, The RDI Book is available on Amazon.com.

Cardinal Principle

Rachelle Sheely — Wed, 09 Mar 2011 17:20:00 GMT

Competence, the Antidote for Everything

The Cardinal Principle

Sitting as I do with my desk against a window, it is easy to appear deep in thought even as my focus is on the nesting cardinal, a family of blue jays, the flirtatious mourning doves or an occasional off-beat pilgrim parrot. My tree-level window frames an ever-changing, 15-foot mini nesting environment created by various gardeners who believe the overgrowth on the fence is better pruned by someone else. Thus, there is a dense, impenetrable star of jasmine, a pecan tree and Japanese ligustrum which supports a dead, sometime-restaurant for an occasional woodpecker.

It is said that in the avian world the mother bird teaches her babies to fly by pushing them from the nest. As a new parent I had not only heard this bit of wisdom but that babies were natural swimmers and only needed to be allowed to swim. Since I was neither the mother of birds nor sharks, I avoided the metaphorical sink or swim. This is not to say that getting it wrong as parents is all bad. In fact, small doses of mistakes and failure where a child learns that he can solve problems and deal with manageable measures of disappointment, provoke the grist of good learning, flexibility and resilience in later life.

Emily, a few weeks shy of her fourth birthday, the youngest of three little girls two doors down is learning to ride a bike. When she first began to navigate the world on her chubby little legs; they saw she was strong enough to pick herself up, she was allowed to fall, struggle a little as she persisted the cycle of falling and standing over and over again, getting better each time. However, as she learned to ride her pink bicycle, sporting a pink polka dot helmet they were more guarded. Emily’s parents and older sisters supported her for a much longer time making sure she had her own balance and never fell. The seat on Emily’s bicycle was at its lowest notch so that when her parents no longer held her, her own feet could reach the ground. Finally, following all of this scaffolding and support, the training wheels were removed. She may not understand how carefully those around her structured her world so she would feel smart but feel smart she does. By the way she carries herself and studies the world around her, one observes a competent, self-assured little girl.

It is the child, never given the opportunity to stand after a fall, or race her feet to the ground to become balanced, who becomes confused when real-life intrudes on the idyllic world of a flawless upbringing. And, while we would like to be perfect all the time and provide a tearless happy life for ourselves and for our children it is not always best to do so. Mindfully, like Emily’s parents, guiding those we care about through the thoughtful introduction of increasingly difficult tasks builds their competence.

There is a family of cardinals I have been watching for a while now. The females, less colorful than the males, are slowly approaching the size of their mother. I have never been fortunate enough to see the first jump from the nest—whether she pushes against them as they reach for their freedom or whether she pushes against them as they attempt to stay put. What I have seen is that they first test their wings on branches very close to the nest and similar to our children who crawl before they walk, the cardinals awkwardly flutter between nest and adjoining branch learning to control the strength of their wings and the direction of their bodies before they venture further. Their mother’s choice of a nesting site created an environment that was ready to provide support before it was ever needed.

Today they are all strong flyers although still living at home. They move from branch to branch, between the pecan and a distant live oak and spend as much time signaling each other as they do their mother. One has taken to perching on the sill outside my office and looking in. Unlike the random bird that fiercely attacks his reflection and flies flat into my window, the cardinal, much prettier than his sisters, peers through the glass at me and back at the reflection he seems to recognize as his own. The mother’s flights seem to take her further away for longer periods of time. They no longer cry interminably for her when she is out of hearing and visual range. They seem capable of foraging for themselves and one sad day I will notice they are no longer here.

We believe that all of our children deserve the option of independence and for most it as straightforward as the scaffolding the cardinal provides her young. But for many, parents of children who present differently, they are blindsided by difficulties over which they have no control and challenges that are outside the range of their expertise. These parents are every bit as capable as those whose jobs are easier—they simply require more support and direction as they navigate the familiar along an unfamiliar path. Emily’s competence is created daily by her parents and it is for this we all yearn, for ourselves and for our children.

As my older daughter enters her 30th year and my younger her 28th, I reflect on the blessings of children, my own and those I have been privileged to know over the course of my professional life. Our dreams for our children do not change because of their differences. Sometimes they open the door and flawlessly assume the becoming of who they are. Sometimes we push against their premature leaving or push against their prolonged staying.
But in the end, my friends, sooner or later, they really do leave the nest.

Rachelle K. Sheely, PhD

Competence, The Antidote for Everything: The "Bad Boy" Poet By Rachelle Sheely, PhD

Rachelle Sheely — Mon, 28 Feb 2011 17:50:00 GMT

Competence, the Antidote for Everything

The “Bad Boy” Poet

There are moments in time when we realize the untapped potential of those with whom we come in contact. Tapping their potential often releases our own.

At a school in New Jersey where I taught for nearly 10 years, come spring my principal would drop into my classroom before she finalized class lists. There was a child, she knew, I would love to teach next year.

Unlike many inner city schools in the late 60s and early 70s, the school was a gem and a lovely place to spend the day. Most teachers brought unusual giftings to their classrooms and were there because of them. Mine was a love for the arts which countered a significant problem—indecipherable handwriting. Thus, it was suggested early-on that my talent for teaching was probably not best realized in sharing my penmanship with others. In contrast to the teacher down the hall with a calligraphic chalkboard, I painstakingly put very little handwritten information in front of my students every day. I did make an interesting discovery, however-- that if I wrote very slowly with my non-dominant hand on the chalkboard it was neat and legible.

Writing with a non-dominant hand, odd as it may seem, was recently used by one of our consultants in his work with a family. By way of explanation, we believe that parents, guiding a child with learning or developmental differences, will speed up progress if they go slowly enough to give the child time and space to understand and absorb what they are teaching. While this makes sense to most of us, there is a counter-intuitive, practical aspect that is related to the pace of modern day life: slowing down to speed up sounds good but isn’t as easy as it seems. The consultant illustrated this value of slowing down by asking the parents to copy a page of writing with their non-dominant hand. Clearly struggling, he told them to hurry.   And, then, to further demonstrate how hard it is to learn something under pressure if the pace is too fast he goaded, urging them to go faster. Even though they understood his intent, the parents confided that the more he forced them to speed up the more anxious and less capable they became -- the caveat being that more time and a slower pace increase competence while a faster pace diminishes it.

In September, the 7 year old boy moved through the door of my classroom. “I’m bad” he said. He was a challenge but my principal was right. I did enjoy him. Over the course of that second grade year, he would come to have a special place in my heart but in the beginning our common ground was that each of us had terrible handwriting, which he thought was “very cool”.

Modeling my teaching after the work of Kenneth Koch, I began the morning, by reading the work of great poets.   Blake was their favorite “Tiger, tiger, burning bright. In the forests of the night…” Frost, a close second “ So was I once a swinger of birches, And so I dream of going back to be.” The structure of each poem was a scaffold for the creative process, the poignant dreams of life. One such line based on the Frost poem I still carry with me “ I am a swinger of fire escapes and so I will always be” Slow, slower, and slower still, was the motto as thoughts were crammed onto the thick-lined yellowing paper.   Regarding my little “bad boy”, we had more in common than poor penmanship—he loved listening to poetry, and he loved writing it.

We all have a desire to feel competent and to nurture the love of learning to learn in others.   And, while we may be born with talent and propensity, competence is made not born. It moves through the mindfulness of the guide and is mirrored in the mindfulness of the learner. Once the poetry of this dance takes shape, the child no longer sees only his teacher-guide as smart, the teacher-guide as poet. He grabs the mantle of competence, wearing and owning it for himself; a tangible evidence, that it is he who is smart. It is he who creates.

Four or five years after my little “bad-boy” poet graduated second grade, he popped in one day after school with a friend. He was 11 or 12. “ He doesn’t think I’m a poet,” he said. “You tell him.” It was the last time I saw him but somehow I know that the careful march of time has not removed him of this. That of the many things he has achieved and become, he is at heart, still, a poet.

Rachelle K. Sheely, PhD

Give it a try and post it as a comment:

WILLIAM BLAKE

Tiger, tiger, burning bright

In the forests of the night,

What immortal hand or eye

Could frame thy fearful symmetry

Your poem based on Blake

_______ __________ burning bright

in the ________ of the night.

What _____________hand or eye

Could frame thy _____________ _____________

With thanks to:

William Blake: The Tyger

Robert Frost: Birches

Kenneth Koch: Rose Where Did You Get That Red

Clare Shaltis, Principal, Mentor, Friend

               Who taught me all I ever wanted to learn about teaching and was never afraid to ask

               Monument School, Trenton New Jersey

BIRCHES, ROBERT FROST

When I see birches bend to left and right
Across the lines of straighter darker trees,
I like to think some boy’s been swinging them.
But swinging doesn’t bend them down to stay.
Ice-storms do that. Often you must have seen them
Loaded with ice a sunny winter morning
After a rain. They click upon themselves
As the breeze rises, and turn many-coloured
As the stir cracks and crazes their enamel.
Soon the sun’s warmth makes them shed crystal shells
Shattering and avalanching on the snow-crust
Such heaps of broken glass to sweep away
You’d think the inner dome of heaven had fallen.
They are dragged to the withered bracken by the load,
And they seem not to break; though once they are bowed
So low for long, they never right themselves:
You may see their trunks arching in the woods
Years afterwards, trailing their leaves on the ground,
Like girls on hands and knees that throw their hair
Before them over their heads to dry in the sun.
But I was going to say when Truth broke in
With all her matter-of-fact about the ice-storm,
I should prefer to have some boy bend them
As he went out and in to fetch the cows—

Some boy too far from town to learn baseball,
Whose only play was what he found himself,
Summer or winter, and could play alone.
One by one he subdued his father’s trees
By riding them down over and over again
Until he took the stiffness out of them,
And not one but hung limp, not one was left
For him to conquer. He learned all there was
To learn about not launching out too soon
And so not carrying the tree away
Clear to the ground. He always kept his poise
To the top branches, climbing carefully
With the same pains you use to fill a cup
Up to the brim, and even above the brim.
Then he flung outward, feet first, with a swish,
Kicking his way down through the air to the ground.

So was I once myself a swinger of birches.
And so I dream of going back to be.
It’s when I’m weary of considerations,
And life is too much like a pathless wood
Where your face burns and tickles with the cobwebs
Broken across it, and one eye is weeping
From a twig’s having lashed across it open.
I’d like to get away from earth awhile
And then come back to it and begin over.

The RDI Program in Warsaw, Poland, March 26-27

Carlotta Baird — Fri, 04 Feb 2011 01:32:00 GMT

Join Dr. Steven Gutstein for an exclusive 2-day parent and professional workshop in partnership with Fundacja Rozwiązać Autyzm in Warsaw, Poland. Please copy and paste this link in your browser for details, http://rozwiazacautyzm.pl/index.php/en/rdi-workshop-main.

Betty Adkins Published in Autism Classroom Magazine

Carlotta Baird — Mon, 10 Jan 2011 16:20:00 GMT

Congratulations to Betty Adkins and her colleagues, Daphne Brindle and Heather Partanen, who published RDI 101: The Next Generation of Autism Treatment in Autism Classroom Magazine.

To begin the journey back from autism, one must address its core deficits. If not addressed in a systematic manner, these deficits (in the areas of social connectiveness, flexibility in thinking, co-regulation, experience-based communication, and episodic memory) will impact the child’s quality of life, regardless of IQ, language ability, or functioning level.

RDI® families often refer to the remediation of autism as a “marathon, not a sprint”. In order to complete a marathon, an athlete must train and prepare. In RDI®, the consultant acts as a coach, guiding the parents in understanding autism and how the core deficits of autism are expressed in their child. Parents learn to develop an interaction style that allows room for discovery and resilience. The consultant helps the parents structure and frame activities to address specific developmental objectives.

For example, in order to increase social referencing, the consultant may ask the parent to complete a simple household task such as setting the table or getting the mail, and to video tape that activity. The consultant will review the video and provide feedback to the parents about how to increase and create opportunities for social referencing within the activity. Feedback to parents is provided through an online system that allows the consultant and family to track and monitor progress over time.

The online system offers parents unique opportunities to participate in a world-wide community of other parents and consultants. Webinars are available that address a wide array of issues pertaining to ASD. In addition, the online system offers parent forums, e-learning opportunities, and a resource library of video clips of families across the world working on specific objectives.

Through RDI®, parents become empowered to restore their natural role as their child’s guide in life. In doing so, the consultant works him- or herself out of a job!

Click on this link to read the full article.

Betty Adkins is a Certified RDI® Consultant in the Washington, DC. metro area. She has more than eighteen years of experience working with individuals with autism and their families. email her at Betty@BettyAdkins.com.