Spring is in the air. I know because of all the sneezing and hacking going on everywhere I go. It is also the time for elementary school productions. Now, since Ethan is only in 1st grade, he doesn't have a full-blown play, so what Orvis does is have all the little 1st graders up on risers during the morning assembly to sing "songs about spring." Okay cool. Yesterday I asked Ethan about this and said, "Livi and I will get to come to school and watch you sing your spring songs!"
Now usually, talks of us coming to school to see him causes great excitement and he is very happy. I noticed his lack of enthusiasm and asked if he didn't want us to, or if anything was wrong.
"I don't like the Spring Songs," he mumbled. Now I have to generally agree with him. Most songs selected by school music teachers must have to somehow rank extremely high on the Suck-O-Meter. I am still haunted by the lameness of some of the things I was forced to sing when growing up. I truly think it's a type of child cruelty. But, instead I ask why.
"They're too loud." Ah. I told him I was sorry the songs were a little loud, but encouraged him to sing loud and proud and get into the spirit of things. This was wrong. When an autistic child gives you their sensory "tell," you had better pay attention.
So, the morning dawned and I managed to get Ethan ready in time, and somehow managed to remember to dress him in a yellow shirt so he looked "spring-like" as was requested. I then threw on some clothes, grabbed Cheerios for Livi to take to snack on and off we went. We even managed to get to the school about the same time as my parents. Once we got settled in the Always-Slightly-Too-Hot-Gym, I found Ethan. He was on the 3rd or 4th riser......with his fingers planted firmly in his ears. I remembered the talk from yesterday, but thought it odd that he was already doing this when the show had yet to begin.
The show was divided between two main 1st grade groups. Ethan's was second. So we watched as the first group shook their Easter eggs and did the usual elementary school "moves." I did noticed that the music was way too loud. In fact, you could barely hear the kids. They could have been speaking Swedish for all I knew. I watched Ethan--fingers still plugging ears. Then, came his class. I had reloaded the batteries in my camera and was getting ready to record. My dad leaned over and asked, "Where's Ethan?" I glanced up, and to my surprise, Ethan was not there. Then I knew. I knew with every fiber of my maternal being, that Ethan had looked Death in the face and said, "Not today."
"Shoot. He's hiding." Little did I know, Ethan was doing more than hiding. My child was a total ninja. Suddenly, out of no where, Ethan appeared. Ethan...went....ROGUE. He had slithered down through the risers and slipped out, completely evading his aide. About the time she sensed the danger, Ethan ran across the front of the audience, before the packed risers and the music teacher, who suddenly seemed at a loss as to what to do, and avoiding every teacher who came near. He swerved back, retracing his route with his aide trying to catch him without appearing to hurry. You know the look. The look where someone is walking swiftly, yet awkwardly--not wanting to ruin their dignity by outright running, but doing this funny semi-power walk. If she'd had a grape between her butt-cheeks, she would have made it a raisin. I heard all the gasps and the "What is he doing?" comments from the other parents. I guess I could have been mortified. Instead, I cheered him on. "Look at 'em go! Boy can RUN! Go Ethan! Head to Mexico! Narnia and the North!" Eventually, Ethan manages to thread his way through the entirety of the 3rd grade and make it to us. Relieved, the aide retreated a little further away, but watched his every move with hawk-like precision and a faint hint of disdain upon her face.
Note how the aid is not smiling, but is looking directly at the camera (which Ethan had happily stolen and was shooting more pics than the paparazzi when Paris Hilton forgets to wear panties).
My son decides taking pictures of everyone and everything is far more exciting than the program, and manages to stay put. As it became time to leave, he displayed his displeasure at my retrieval of the camera by going completely limp and squatting down. My parents had boxed him in, so running for it was no longer an option. Finally, Ethan was hoisted to his feet, where he then decided to walk at a 45 degree angle. This was fun, because it was "Dance Time," and the rest of the kids were swept into a swarm of jumping, swirling, and other seizure-like maneuvers.
I suppose my only regret, was I didn't get it on film. What a proud family moment to see my son rejecting everything this happy little production stood for.
Now usually, talks of us coming to school to see him causes great excitement and he is very happy. I noticed his lack of enthusiasm and asked if he didn't want us to, or if anything was wrong.
"I don't like the Spring Songs," he mumbled. Now I have to generally agree with him. Most songs selected by school music teachers must have to somehow rank extremely high on the Suck-O-Meter. I am still haunted by the lameness of some of the things I was forced to sing when growing up. I truly think it's a type of child cruelty. But, instead I ask why.
"They're too loud." Ah. I told him I was sorry the songs were a little loud, but encouraged him to sing loud and proud and get into the spirit of things. This was wrong. When an autistic child gives you their sensory "tell," you had better pay attention.
So, the morning dawned and I managed to get Ethan ready in time, and somehow managed to remember to dress him in a yellow shirt so he looked "spring-like" as was requested. I then threw on some clothes, grabbed Cheerios for Livi to take to snack on and off we went. We even managed to get to the school about the same time as my parents. Once we got settled in the Always-Slightly-Too-Hot-Gym, I found Ethan. He was on the 3rd or 4th riser......with his fingers planted firmly in his ears. I remembered the talk from yesterday, but thought it odd that he was already doing this when the show had yet to begin.
The show was divided between two main 1st grade groups. Ethan's was second. So we watched as the first group shook their Easter eggs and did the usual elementary school "moves." I did noticed that the music was way too loud. In fact, you could barely hear the kids. They could have been speaking Swedish for all I knew. I watched Ethan--fingers still plugging ears. Then, came his class. I had reloaded the batteries in my camera and was getting ready to record. My dad leaned over and asked, "Where's Ethan?" I glanced up, and to my surprise, Ethan was not there. Then I knew. I knew with every fiber of my maternal being, that Ethan had looked Death in the face and said, "Not today."
"Shoot. He's hiding." Little did I know, Ethan was doing more than hiding. My child was a total ninja. Suddenly, out of no where, Ethan appeared. Ethan...went....ROGUE. He had slithered down through the risers and slipped out, completely evading his aide. About the time she sensed the danger, Ethan ran across the front of the audience, before the packed risers and the music teacher, who suddenly seemed at a loss as to what to do, and avoiding every teacher who came near. He swerved back, retracing his route with his aide trying to catch him without appearing to hurry. You know the look. The look where someone is walking swiftly, yet awkwardly--not wanting to ruin their dignity by outright running, but doing this funny semi-power walk. If she'd had a grape between her butt-cheeks, she would have made it a raisin. I heard all the gasps and the "What is he doing?" comments from the other parents. I guess I could have been mortified. Instead, I cheered him on. "Look at 'em go! Boy can RUN! Go Ethan! Head to Mexico! Narnia and the North!" Eventually, Ethan manages to thread his way through the entirety of the 3rd grade and make it to us. Relieved, the aide retreated a little further away, but watched his every move with hawk-like precision and a faint hint of disdain upon her face.
Note how the aid is not smiling, but is looking directly at the camera (which Ethan had happily stolen and was shooting more pics than the paparazzi when Paris Hilton forgets to wear panties).
My son decides taking pictures of everyone and everything is far more exciting than the program, and manages to stay put. As it became time to leave, he displayed his displeasure at my retrieval of the camera by going completely limp and squatting down. My parents had boxed him in, so running for it was no longer an option. Finally, Ethan was hoisted to his feet, where he then decided to walk at a 45 degree angle. This was fun, because it was "Dance Time," and the rest of the kids were swept into a swarm of jumping, swirling, and other seizure-like maneuvers.
I suppose my only regret, was I didn't get it on film. What a proud family moment to see my son rejecting everything this happy little production stood for.
You know Rachel, it is Ethan ' s Constitutional right to protest the loud noises & those lame songs. Sorry you didn't get him on tape. At least you know he knows how to voice his open. I'm loving it!! Thanks for sharing!
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