“An inability to express one’s self in accordance with society’s standards does not make you less, it just makes you different.”

Written by a Little Star Center employee

I grew up with my older brother.  Mom, dad, me and my brother.  We were as close as two brothers could be growing up.  My mom stayed home with us until we went to school.  Everything was very typical, I didn’t know any different.  We would play blocks, trucks, roughhousing and make believe.  It wasn’t until my brother left for kindergarten.  I remember walking with mom to the bus stop and watching my brother get on the bus for school.

I was sad at first. This was the first time I would be away from my brother ever, at all.  I learned later in life that when my brother went to school, a different side of him was shown.  My brother, who played with me like a typical kid, didn’t play with anyone in kindergarten.  In fact, my brother didn’t do much of anything.  He sat in a corner, away from all of his peers.  My brother displayed his first signs of Asperger Syndrome, extreme social anxiety in a new setting.

I didn’t know when he got home that he had such a rough time at school.  He was my brother like I always knew him, back in the safety and security of our home.  My parents were made aware of his difficulties, and he repeated kindergarten.  My brother, being the brilliant human being that he is, surely saw that he didn’t meet their social expectations year one, so made sure of it come year two.  My brother progressed into elementary school as if nothing was wrong.  He did well academically and even made a handful of friends, some of which he still has to this day.

It wasn’t until late elementary school that a teacher noticed some of my brother’s difficulties and suggested that he be tested for high-functioning autism.  In the mid 90’s my brother was diagnosed with Asperger Syndrome.  This was difficult for me to hear, as you could imagine, being a 10 year-old boy and hearing your brother has a**burgers?  I was quickly told the correct spelling and was told that it was a high functioning form of autism.

We went to a parent meeting one evening at our elementary school so my parents could receive some literature on my brother’s newly discovered syndrome.  My brother and I played in the gym with some of the others kids and siblings.  We quickly noticed how out of place we were.  My brother was not like these children, we could both see that.  After that night, little was said about my brother’s Asperger’s or about the fact that he had autism.  But my curiosity had been peaked.  My brother was always just a little quirky and odd to me.  It never was anything deficient about him.  In fact, I always admired his ability to block out social distractions and focus on his studies and academic pursuits.

I was curious and, as it turned out, I would spend the rest of my time in school taking every psychology class I could get my hands on. I studied psychology in college as well as counseling and philosophy.  I wanted to help others and change the world.

After college, life sent me to residential care for children with autism.  I finally felt as though I had answered my calling.  I was working with a population I had been around my whole life.  Little did I realize that my brother was very similar to the kids in that gymnasium all those years ago.  Just a little quirky and different when it came to communicating with others.  But just as brilliant and loving as my brother.  I love my brother and this lesson that he taught me so early in life:  An inability to express one’s self in accordance with society’s standards does not make you less, it just makes you different.  It has been my pleasure working with children with autism and helping the world see their brilliance and love, even if it’s not what they’re expecting to see.  And I have my brother to thank for that.

This post was written by an employee at Little Star Center who has requested to remain anonymous.

Celebrating our beautiful son, Anthony

By Joanne Kehoe

I have four children. Anthony, my oldest, has autism.

When Anthony was a baby, I used to think about milestones and when he would reach them.  He sat up really early. He started rolling over and crawling early and got right up and started walking and running right on time.  His teeth came in when they were supposed to, much to my chagrin as a nursing mother.  He ate food from a spoon at six months.

I don’t know when I thought it strange that he wasn’t talking. I mean, he DID talk — a little.  He could count pretty high with me signing the numbers. He could say colors that I would sign. I have a video of him saying, “E, I, E, I … ho,” while playing with a tractor that played the Old McDonald song.

At 18 months, I took him to the pediatrician for his well-child checkup and explained that he wasn’t talking and that other kids in playgroups who were his age were flying by him. The doctor said to me, “Look how smart he is. Keep reading to him and keep talking to him.” So, I did.  I read a LOT. I talked to him a LOT.  I remember walking with Anthony around the block by our house after it snowed, and I thought to myself that if I fell and bonked my head, I would be in trouble because Anthony isn’t going to call for help.  He never called, “Mommy!” from his room. That was one thing I thought was strange.

Finally, we started Anthony in First Steps, the early intervention program. Three therapists came one morning to evaluate him. That was the first time I looked at Anthony as a stranger might see him and it didn’t look good!  They said he should have developmental, occupational and speech therapy.  They were throwing the book at him.  At the end of his involvement with First Steps, and before he moved on to therapy at the public school, he was diagnosed with autism.  By then, we knew it was coming, but it still sort of stung when the psychiatrist asked, “Has anyone ever mentioned autism to you?”

That was almost six years ago, and we have undergone a lot of attitude adjustments since then.  Anthony has had to get used to three little sisters, one louder than the next!  We have had to adjust our attitudes and our expectations. We still celebrate milestones with Anthony – so many I couldn’t even begin to count. They are just different than the milestones that I thought we’d be celebrating, and, Lord knows, they are sometimes later than I thought they’d be reached!  But he is so smart, and so wonderful, and we all love him so much – and I don’t mean just his family, but all his therapists and everyone who comes in contact with him. And those milestones mean just as much and probably more than the milestones that I thought he’d reach all those years ago when I was narrating my life and waiting for that first word.

Joanne Kehoe is a mom of four, including Anthony, a learner at Little Star.

 

Conversation with a Big Star for Little Star

 

In recognition of Autism Awareness Month, we will feature comments from the Little Star Center Board of Directors. This week’s Q&A is with board member Bill Brunner. Brunner was appointed to the Little Star Center Board of Directors in 2009. He is the former Chief Financial Officer for J.D. Byrider. In 2013, he was named a CFO of the Year by the Indianapolis Business Journal.

What makes you most proud about serving on Little Star Center’s Board of Directors?

The work we do to serve our children with no distractions from our mission of serving the most children we can with uncompromised quality treatment.

During your time as board member, what do you think has been one of Little Star Center’s biggest success stories?

The biggest success story occurs frequently when we share the success of the children.  This can take the form of a child learning a skill that he/she previously could not perform up to transitioning to traditional education programs.

From a more grown up perspective, I take pride in management and the board’s reaction to a challenge that presented itself which likely could have impacted the quality of Little Star’s programs; the mission prevailed.  Like in many organizations revenue and profit can become a cancer on the organization’s mission.  Yes, the board does have the responsibility to assure the organization’s survival, but parents can be assured that the quality of service to their children will not be compromised.

What is one thing you want people to know about individuals with autism?

Having autism is not a shortcoming or a bad defect; it is a neurological condition. As individuals they have many beautiful traits that often are expressed in a level of love that those of us that are “normal” cannot understand or express.

What do you see for the future of autism services in Indiana? Which areas of service are in need of growth?

I wish I could be optimistic on this topic, but I see the environment surrounding the ability to serve children will continue to be challenging for the foreseeable future.  The challenges will come from the ability to pay for services as well as groups trying to profit from this population.

The outlook from a clinical perspective, however, is bright.  I am encouraged by the increasing amount of research in treatment methods and tools for aiding in treatment.  In particular, tools like electronic tablets (i-pads) offer the chance to improve communication for individuals with autism.

How has being a part of LSC impacted you personally?

This is simple; having the opportunity to serve the autistic community reminds me that serving our fellow persons and particularly our children is imperative to fulfilling our social responsibilities.

 

Wyatt and I are in this wonderful world together

 

By Brett Eastwick

Someone once said never underestimate what a parent is willing to do for his child. Parents of children with autism know this maxim all too well. It is not easy being a parent, even with unlimited resources, family members, and a supportive spouse. But bring into the fold a diagnosis of autism, and suddenly you feel as if the world has swallowed you up.

And any parent who has gone through this five years ago, 10 years, 20 years ago, it was even more difficult. Today, the level of awareness is high. It seems as if everybody knows someone that is on the spectrum. That has not always been the case, nor has it always been that people accept our children for who they are. We all have experienced “the look.” The look of confusion as to why our child is making odd sounds, why they are flapping their hands, why a sudden noise sends them into hysterics. We are at fault. They just need to behave. They need more discipline. We are coddling them. I have heard all of this before, as I am sure you have. It makes you want to cry. It makes you want to lash out. It makes you want to hide away from the world.

I have lived in the world of autism for 10 years. My son, Wyatt, brought me into it. He is why I left my previous career as a veterinary assistant and became an ABA therapist. He could not speak. Learning was aversive and almost impossible for him. He could not communicate with us. I refused to let him stay trapped in his own world by himself.

The methods of verbal behavior analysis did not take him out of that world, so much as it allowed me to enter into it with him. Wyatt has hundreds of signs, and knows how to compel those around him to engage him that way. After six years of continued therapy, he has learned so much. But this is where the rest of the world still lags behind. It is not over. He will not be “cured”, especially since he is not sick. He has autism. He will always have autism. I will always be a parent of a child with autism. I do not think about the magic day Wyatt will be like typically developing children, when I no longer work with children of autism. Wyatt and I are in this wonderful world together. We all are in this community of parents with autism. And I would not have it any other way.

Brett Eastwick is a therapist at Little Star Center. His son, Wyatt, has autism.

 

The awesomeness of riding a tricycle…or not!

 

By Siovhan Lawrence

In our family, April 2 is not just World Autism Awareness Day. It’s also the two-year anniversary of our son Bradley’s autism diagnosis. So far, we’ve learned many things on this journey. One lesson, in particular, we learned very early is setting realistic goals for Bradley while celebrating every single milestone – both big and small.

After a battery of tests with four-and five-letter acronyms and countless labs, we finally received an autism diagnosis for Bradley. The next step: Setting goals for our newly diagnosed son.  We were asked, “What are your specific goals for Bradley in the next six months?” How do you answer that?  We knew our son was delayed in every aspect and missed milestones. He was developing new interfering behaviors and was also showing regression. We answered with things we thought would be achievable. Roll a ball back and forth during play. Push a toy car around. Say the words “hi”, “bye”, “mommy”, “daddy” and “sissy.” We said we wanted him to wave, smile, respond to his name when called. Also added to our list were eye contact and an expanded food repertoire. WOW! Looking back now, we realize what a tall order that was.

In the following months we learned more about autism and the challenges Bradley would face.  Needless to say, during his next evaluation Bradley had not met any of our goals. Subsequently, we became less specific about our goals and focused more on understanding all of the intricate parts of each of those tasks.

After coming to Little Star Center (nearly 18 months after Bradley’s diagnosis), Brian, one of Bradley’s therapists, casually mentioned he was working on something with our son. He told us it would be a surprise.  At Christmastime, we were asked to come to LSC and receive our “gift.”  With all of the progress, setbacks, therapy and undeniable hard work, we had no idea what to expect. We walked into LSC and in came Bradley, riding around the corner on a tricycle. ALL BY HIMSELF! There he was pedaling, smiling and focusing. He lost a grip on the pedal, but he regained his footing. It was AMAZING! The best Christmas present ever!

As we celebrate Bradley’s progress over the last two years, we have learned to see the development of new skills and goals being met under a whole new light. Each and every moment of dedication from both the LSC staff and Bradley is monumental. Whether he is flashing one of his giant, infectious smiles or communicating one of his needs, we appreciate each moment and it fills our hearts with hope and pride.

Siovhan Lawrence is a mother of two. Her son, Bradley is a learner at Little Star Center.

 

 

 

 

We found our perfect match at Little Star

By Onya Jones

When Kaleigh was 3 years old, we searched for the perfect ABA facility to address her needs. At the time, she wasn’t ready for developmental preschool. She needed more one-on-one assistance.

I began searching for therapy for children with Autism Spectrum Disorder and came upon Little Star Center’s website. It was very informative and looked exactly like what Kaleigh needed.  After touring the center and meeting with staff, I knew this was where she needed to be.

Four years later, I remain convinced that Little Star is the best place for Kaleigh. The staff is devoted to Kaleigh’s progress. It’s evident that they want the kids to succeed in life. They work hard to make that happen. It’s clear they love every single one of those kids and, at the same time, provide great support to the parents.

We are truly grateful we found Little Star.

Onya Jones is mom to Kaleigh, a learner at Little Star Center.