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Why Does Izzy Cover Her Ears? Dealing with Sensory Overload

November 1st, 2009 No comments »
We felt this one was a great resource for students with autism, aspergers or any sensory “overload” issues.  Give it a look and let us know what you think!

Why Does Izzy Cover Her Ears? Dealing with Sensory Overload

Why does Izzy Cover her ears? Dealing with sensory overload.

Why does Izzy Cover her ears? Dealing with sensory overload.

Written and Illustrated by Jennifer Veenendall

Meet Izzy, a feisty first grader, whose behavior is often misunderstood as she tries to cope with sensory overload in her new surroundings. This brightly illustrated book creates an environment that is accepting of students with sensory modulation difficulties, including many on the autism spectrum. It’s a great resource for occupational therapists, teachers, and parents to share with children. Resources for adults at the end of the book include definitions of sensory processing and sensory modulation disorder, suggested discussion questions, and lists of related books and websites.

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Amazon Reviews:

5.0 out of 5 stars It’s All Too Much, June 1, 2009
By BeatleBangs1964 (United States) – See all my reviews
(TOP 500 REVIEWER)

George Harrison’s stellar “It’s All Too Much” and the inane classic “Make the World Go Away” which I never liked could easily be the soundtracks for this book.

Izzy is a delightfully plausible character who MIGHT have autism. She plainly has sensory issues, one of which is an aversion for loud noises. They are painful to her, so she will cover her ears regardless of her her environment.

She is a wonderful role model for all children, neurotypical and on the spectrum alike. I wish I’d had this book when I was a child. Show me a person on the spectrum who DOESN’T hate loud noises and surprises and I will show you a buzzard who can dance and a screaming eagle who can sing.

Izzy personifies the sensory overload experience perfectly and George Harrison’s 1968 lyrics “it’s all too much for me to see….it’s all too much for me to take” sum up this story very well.

5.0 out of 5 stars Overloaded with Awesome Sensory Information to Share with Kids!, May 26, 2009

From beginning to end, I LOVED this wonderful tool for introducing sensory challenges and solutions to kids at such an important age as early elementary school years. Izzy is a wonderful role model for kids who are challenged by their senses. They can see they are not alone and see how she deals with some of her challenges at school. As important, the book provides a wonderful tool to introduce sensory issues and potential sensory overload to classmates to help them better understand their peers who might be dealing with sensory overload. This book has great potential to bridge a gap between classmates by giving a better understanding of what others might be experiencing with regards to sensory issues.

Kudos to Jennifer Veenendall for delivering to us a wonderfully illustrated and clever story which beautifully tells a story of one child that can be transferred to many, many more.

Joanna Keating-Velasco
A Is for Autism F Is for Friend: A Kid’s Book for Making Friends with a Child Who Has Autism
In His Shoes, A Short Journey Through Autism

5.0 out of 5 stars A highly recommended and educational book for parents and children to share, June 17, 2009
By Midwest Book Review (Oregon, WI USA) – See all my reviews

Why Does Izzy Cover Her Ears? Dealing with Sensory Overload is the picturebook story of Izzy, an intelligent young girl just starting the first grade. Izzy has sensory processing disorder, which makes her over-responsive to environmental stimuli, including sounds, accidental bumps from other kids, and visual distractions. Her reflexive tendencies to cry, lash out, or cover her ears have caused other kids to accuse her of being mean, or deride her as a “crybaby”. But with help from her parents, her teachers, and an occupational therapist, she is learning how to adjust. She feels calmer and ready to learn, and she’s made a lot of friends! The story is told from Izzy’s point of view, but does not talk down to the reader. A highly recommended and educational book for parents and children to share, especially if the child has sensory processing disorder or knows relatives or friends with it.

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Helping Students with Autism on Homework

October 16th, 2009 5 comments »
When Jeff Stimpson of Autism Vox sent in the below Guest Post, we knew we had found a great topic.  Jeff is the author of “Alex: The Fathering of a Preemie” and “Alex the Boy: Episodes From A Family’s Life With Autism” (both of which are excellent, must reads – feel free to preview them)

Whose Homework Is It, Anyway?

by Jeff Stimpson

My son Alex is 11, diagnosed PDD-NOS, and he just entered 6th grade in a New York City public schools. I have had many occasions to try homework tactics with him; some of those tactics have even been successful.

“Pick a color,” I tell Alex, pointing to the markers in the tray. Alex can’t seem to hold a pen. He tries to grip it in all of his fingers instead of in just the index and the middle finger, pressed by the thumb. He looks over at the TV (even when it isn’t on), at the cat (even when she’s asleep), at the wall. I take his chin in my fingers, pivot his nose back to the grindstone, and say, “Pay attention.” I put the marker in his hand and make him say the letter before he writes it. I hold his hand with mine, guiding him gently. Sometimes I take my hand away and say, “You do it, Alex.”

He pulls my hand back to his. I pull my hand away. He pulls my hand back to his. “You do it!” he says. Birth of a catchphrase.

Alex has always brought home sheets festooned with animals, kids, little houses, rakes, flowers, and has had to count the objects and sometimes color them afterward. I try tracing one of his fingers across the paper when I say one, then two fingers when I say two, then three fingers, and so on. Then it hits me that when I say “one” to him, I should give him one Goldfish cracker, “two” and two Goldfish, and so on. I think Alex would tackle calculus for a bag of Goldfish (original flavor). Alex will then color everything on the sheet by scribbling over the page with no more regard for the lines on the paper than a drunk driver has regard for the lines on the highway. Alex will color every drawing — a house, a shoe, a donkey — the same color. (For a long time, I couldn’t understand how coloring will ever help get him a job. Only later, during a conference, did I learn from his OT that he should color standing up, with the paper against the wall, to strengthen his shoulder muscles. He should also, I was told, never use markers but pencils; the latter require him to bear down harder. And only short pencils, like those you use to keep score in miniature golf.)

His math homework the other night had drawings of little shoes. The shoes were in pairs, the pairs grouped in boxes. Alex was to total the shoes in each box by counting by twos. The first box was easy: five pairs of shoes, and a dotted “10″ that Alex easily traced in the corner of the box. The next box contained two pair of shoes. “Alex, four,” I said. “Four.” And he drew a four!

The next box contained seven pair of shoes. “Alex, look,” I said, “two, four, six, eight-” He mumbled something. I took the marker and touched his cheek with the cap. “Alex, pay attention. Two, four, six, eight, ten-”

“Fourteen,” said Alex.

“No, Alex, listen. Two, four, six-”

“Fourteen.”

I started over slowly. “Two. Four. Six-”

Alex grabbed the marker from my hand. “Fourteen,” he said, and he wrote a fourteen. Oh.

For writing homework, I print words of things with meaning to him — “Mommy,” “Daddy,” “Elmo” — on the left side of the paper, and let him fill the rest of the line with copies of the word. Last night, he tried to look over my hand as I wrote “Cough,” which I picked because he has had a nagging cough. I’m left-handed; I sit on Alex’s right to do this homework, so he couldn’t see all the word at once. I had written the C and O, and was just starting work on the U, when Alex said: “Cold?”

I want my semi-verbal son to learn to write even more than I want him to learn to count or read (though lately we have made great strides in household chores by writing what we want Alex to do and having him read it). I want him to learn to write because I want to know how he sees the world.

Okay. “Did I tell you Alex spells words?” read the note from his teacher a few nights later. She said he’s learned to spell a new word! He spelled it for all of them in his class. The word was L-I-Q-U-O-R-S.

Jeff Stimpson can be reached here


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Not stupid: one woman’s fight for her sons’ education

September 26th, 2009 No comments »

I Teach Autism received the following guest post from Anna Kennedy.  It details an all too familiar story for many in the autism community.  Anna graciously wrote about her story; two sons’, one with autism and the other with aspergers.  It struck a chord here at I Teach Autism because we know how hard fighting for her two sons’ education had to be.  If the below strikes the same chord for you as it did us, you may want to visit her site and possibly her book.

Not stupid: one woman’s fight for her sons’ education
by Anna Kennedy

In January 1990 I gave birth to my first son, Patrick. At first, despite
several health scares, it seemed Patrick was progressing normally. Then,
at the age of seven, he began displaying erratic behavior and became
extremely distressed at school. His educational progress was severely
limited.

Three years later, I gave birth to my second son, Angelo, who, at the age
of two and a half, also began displaying most abnormal behavior. At an
assessment, Angelo was diagnosed with autism and, naturally, this was a
scary and devastating blow for my husband, Sean, and myself.

Meanwhile, Patrick’s strange behavior and protests at being taken to
school intensified. He was diagnosed as having Asperger’s syndrome but,
unfortunately, it was three years before this diagnosis was revealed to me
and my husband! This meant that Patrick, wholly unsuited to mainstream
education, had been forced to endure the trauma of not understanding what
was required of him, and taunts such as “bird brain” from other children,
at a school totally ill-equipped to cater for his specific needs.

Worse was to follow, in fact, much worse! A total of 26 special schools,
within an hours drive of where my family and I lived, turned down
applications for my boys’ placements. Doors were being shut in our faces
on a regular basis and we hardly knew where to turn.

With a friend, I began a support group for families in a similar
situation, which soon became fully subscribed. Faced with the difficulty
of finding anywhere that would provide educational support for my boys,
and our inability to find suitable childcare for children on the autistic
spectrum in our locality, we took drastic measures. Having discovered a
derelict school in Hillingdon, we approached the local council and asked
if we could purchase it and turn it into a center of excellence for
children on the autistic spectrum.

There were numerous bureaucratic obstacles in our way, but we resolved to
take on the endless red tape, small print and financial obstacles to turn
this dream into a reality, despite the fact that we had no training in
educational provision. This would be a daunting prospect for anyone, but
with two young sons affected by autistic spectrum disorders (ASD), and a
husband also diagnosed with Asperger’s syndrome, you can only imagine the
endless stress, determination and hard work that was involved for me and
my family.

Hillingdon Borough Council eventually agreed to lease the school to us,
but at an asking price of £627,000! Obviously, we did not have such a sum
of money in our bank account, but, even then, we refused to accept defeat;
we re-mortgaged our small home and rallied the support of local
councilors, local companies, charities and the media to get the venture
off the ground. After much hard work, endless campaigning, tears and
frustrations, we eventually found ourselves in a position to recruit an
experienced headteacher and suitably qualified staff who would assist us
in opening Hillingdon Manor School on 4 September 1999.

The school initially provided education and life skills to nineteen pupils
between three and nineteen years of age, but that was just the start.
Since then, Hillingdon Manor School has gone from strength to strength and
has helped hundreds of children on the autistic spectrum to get the
education they deserve and are entitled to.

However, because of the lack of suitable facilities elsewhere, the school
soon became over-subscribed. As a result, I decided that we should take
things even further. I was determined that other families should not find
themselves in the position that my husband and I had endured with our own
sons. The decision was taken to borrow enough money to expand the
facilities we offered and, despite the personal financial risks involved,
we pushed ahead with plans to open a new secondary school, which now
provides specialist education for 95 children in total.

One of my chief desires, throughout all of this, has been to provide
ongoing educational, vocational and life skills support for my sons and
others. ASD are lifelong conditions, so there were real concerns for our
sons’ well-being once they passed normal school leaving age. With the help
of our supporters, I therefore took the decision to further enhance our
educational provision by setting up the West London Community College, a
small, independent life skills center which caters for the specific and
complex needs of adult students with ASD. Using a person-centered approach,
we provide high quality individual programs for each student.

Not content with our schools and college, I was looking even further
ahead. Our team created an eight bedroom residential home, now known as
The Old Vicarage, where adults with an autistic spectrum disorder live,
with support from specially trained staff.

All in all, it has been an incredible journey, from the initial idea for
Hillingdon Manor School to where we are now, and it has been far from
easy. However, when certain councilors and bureaucrats seemed more than
willing to hinder or oppose our plans, I refused to give up. There have
been so many tears and frustrations, but I have battled through every
barrier placed before me.

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