Last updated on November 26, 2023
Podcast Episode 0081, Season 5, Episode 12; 31 January 2022
Parenting on Pandemic Time
The end of 2021 proved difficult, and 2022 isn’t off to a good start. Parental responsibilities once again derailed blogging and podcasting efforts. Pandemic parenting compounds the challenges of supporting our daughters. Despite our exhaustion, we have to keep the girls on track. This is yet another podcast episode reflecting on the challenges of these unusual times. Let us hope 2022 eventually transitions to normalcy.
Transcript
Hello and welcome to The Autistic Me Podcast. I am Christopher Scott Wyatt, speaking as The Autistic Me.
A few followers have asked if I’ve set aside the podcast and blog. I have wondered if I possess the time and energy to maintain any projects beyond parenting. I ask that you please indulge me as I share yet another pandemic parenting podcast and blog entry.
You’ll probably notice the sound quality is lacking. My apologies for recording at midnight with an inexpensive headset.
I hope this podcast episode isn’t confused for an audiobook, but I have a lot of thoughts regarding the last few months. These weeks have given me a lot of material for The Autistic Me… while consuming all the time necessary to share those thoughts.
There’s nothing Susan and I wouldn’t do for our daughters. That doesn’t mean parenting isn’t exhausting. We knew there would be sacrifices. We just didn’t anticipate I’d be parenting and teaching the girls full-time.
Anne and Leigh started slipping academically — and behaviorally — about mid-November. Every year they’ve been in school, the girls have started acting out when presented with new content. They are comfortable doing what they know how to do. New knowledge, concepts, and skills trigger resistance. That resistance to learning carries over into other parts of daily life.
Learning, by definition, requires challenging yourself with new tasks. That’s difficult for some adults, who would rather keep doing what they’ve already mastered. Thankfully, children are curious and wired to learn.
I’ve noticed that our daughters aren’t always curious about the world around them. It’s challenging to find what will motivate them to learn new information or skills.
Susan and I are life-long learners. We’re always talking about the latest articles we’ve read in science, technology, or history. We discuss language constantly since we are both writers.
The girls don’t share our curiosity. They want the comfort of doing what they know how to do. The oldest, Leigh, is only now starting to ask lots of questions about random topics. In fourth grade, she’s asking the “why” questions most parents hear years earlier.
School becomes a battle by late fall or winter, as the girls wait for their teachers — now us — to give up and let them do nothing.
For more than two months, I have tried every technique imaginable to address poor choices and negative behaviors. By the end of each day, I’m too anxious and exhausted to work productively on my projects, including The Autistic Me blog and podcast.
Here we are. The blog is languishing, the podcasts are sporadic, and I barely get through each day.
Under the best of conditions, my ambitions for the blog and podcast never match my available time and energy. When I was teaching, lesson planning, grading, and academic research had to be prioritized. The “day job” comes first.
When Susan and I became foster parents, those obligations took priority. As foster parents, we had the standard parental responsibilities plus those of the foster system. There were a lot of disruptions. I was also teaching during those years.
Appreciate the challenges our daughters face and understand that as concerned parents, Susan and I keep those challenges in mind. We navigate the lasting effects of childhood trauma, early neglect, PTSD, ADHD, Reactive Attachment Disorder (RAD), oppositional behavior, anxiety, and autism as a family. The girls also have physical developmental delays, which is why we have maintained an exercise routine during summers and throughout the pandemic. Plus, my Neurodiversity adds an additional layer of complications.
We love the girls and we know they are dealing with an unfair number of challenges. We have worked with caseworkers, counselors, psychologists, and psychiatrists to meet the girls’ mental health needs. The girls were enrolled in physical therapy and occupational therapy. We never expected parenting to be easy.
Susan and I have also received training for various parenting techniques meant to support the girl. First, there was TBRI, Trust-Based Relational Intervention. The emphasis is on “do-overs” instead of harsh corrections. Then we tried PCIT, Parent-Child Interaction Therapy, which emphasizes praising good choices and ignoring bad choices when safe and reasonable to do so. These therapies assume children want to please their guardians.
RAD children don’t always care about parental approval or praise.
We reluctantly tried chore charts, laminated checklists for daily routines, and other supports for executive function deficits. Those approaches work for me, but the girls aren’t there yet. These tools are not to be confused with “star charts” or other forms of rewards. Learning life skills shouldn’t feel like a race with the current standings posted on a wall.
Trying to address underlying causes, we have tried play therapy, individual counseling, and trauma therapy. Trauma therapy was ineffective because both girls deflect, avoid, and rewrite their histories. Denial is a survival technique.
Recently, their psychiatrist suggested another attempt at talk therapy, this time focused on oppositional behaviors. I’m not convinced the girls are ready for any more talk-based therapies. They aren’t there yet, emotionally.
A return to therapy means budgeting another few hours a week to the girls’ needs. Yes, that’s parenting. But I had really hoped to have time for myself.
After the adoption hurdles were cleared and we relocated to Texas in 2019, I assumed investing time and energy into The Autistic Me was a realistic plan. We love the girls, enjoy having them in our lives, and I do not want anyone to misinterpret my words. Loving the girls has always meant dedicating time to their needs. I simply thought I’d have a little more time once we settled into our Texas home.
The girls would attend school. I’d work and write. We’d have evenings and weekends to ourselves, as a family.
The pandemic disrupted everything.
We never intended to homeschool the girls, yet homeschooling is now my job. It turns out to be more work than teaching college full-time. Working with two Neurodiverse elementary students is not typical homeschooling. Our days need to meet specific needs that are priorities ahead of the girls’ progress towards academic goals.
Susan and I had several reasons for homeschooling our daughters for yet another year. Among those was a near-certainty that classrooms, and sometimes entire schools, would be closed due to coronavirus outbreaks. We avoided a year of virtual learning, during which many students fell behind. This year, we have avoided the unpredictable classroom and school closures.
As it turns out, sometimes the entire school district closes as the latest COVID-19 variant races through our community.
Parents might have anticipated the Martin Luther King Jr. holiday on January 17, but COVID forced our school district to close for several additional days. Bus service had been limited much of this school year. And then busses were suspended two weeks ago due to staffing shortages, many related to this wave of COVID infections.
We live in a small community, with slightly more than 25,000 residents. When classes were suspended, 1680 students and more than 200 school staff were medically excused. Because there was a lack of COVID testing kits, only 705 of the medically absent individuals had positive COVID test results. There’s no way to measure the actual extent of this wave.
There are no mask mandates. There is no vaccination requirement. Temporary online learning isn’t offered, though some local students opted for a full year of virtual learning managed by other districts. Texas allowed existing online programs to accept new students but barred schools from implementing short-term online options.
The classrooms and other spaces are crowded. Everything is “back to normal” — except students end up at home doing nothing far too frequently during this school year. Of course, at home, while their classrooms or campuses are closed, students don’t isolate. They gather inside during this cooler weather, leading to additional outbreaks. Many working parents cannot remain home, so their children have to go somewhere during the canceled school days.
Anne and Leigh have been homeschooled with a consistent routine. While other parents post about the struggles of start-stop schooling and frequent substitute teachers, we’re at least offering a stable environment for our daughters.
The consistency and stability we’re providing to the girls does come with a price: my exhaustion.
I’ve spoken before about how the pandemic revealed to Susan and me that schools were failing to meet our daughters’ needs.
Before the pandemic, both girls struggled academically. We didn’t know why, but Anne couldn’t read and Leigh’s progress had stalled. Anne had to repeat kindergarten. Leigh attended preschool and Head Start. We were told she was below grade level and might fall further behind. We asked for updates from their teachers. The girls had 504 plans, and Anne eventually had an IEP. We were told the girls were doing as best they could.
It turns out, they were not doing much in their classrooms. Both girls were physically present yet not making academic progress.
Since the spring of 2019, the girls have achieved more than what their teachers and support teams had thought possible.
Anne was two when she arrived at our house. She wasn’t speaking, so she was unable to communicate her needs. She tended to crawl or climb. Even now, Anne has a noticeable in-toe and on-toe gait, with her knees together.
Anne also had other symptoms of neglect.
When toddlers are neglected, they cope by taking charge.
For example, Anne had learned to scavenge for food because she was used to meeting her own needs. She didn’t learn that children can trust and rely on adults because that wasn’t her experience. As a result, she doesn’t understand or respect parental authority.
Leigh is not quite a year and a half older than her sister. She had a limited vocabulary, including a created language shared with one of her older siblings. Like her sister, Leigh also struggles with gross motor skills. When she walks, her legs cross in what’s called a scissor gait. Sometimes, she trips herself.
Developing their language skills was a priority for Susan and me. We read to the girls regularly. During mealtime, pause to discuss words encountered by the girls while reading or heard on the evening news.
Language is the key to most academic success. Unfortunately, neglect affects language development because the child doesn’t hear a rich vocabulary. Parents failing to talk to a child during those early years forever changes neurodevelopment. Late speakers struggle with sounds, not having learned words through simultaneously watching and listening. Mouth shapes, tongue positions, and other nuances of meaningful speech are learned.
Thankfully, Leigh likes to read and has made steady progress in all academic subjects since we started this pandemic homeschooling adventure. Every subject relies on reading, so as this foundational skill improved, Leigh’s grades in other subjects improved.
Leigh wants to read the same books, over and over. That’s fine, but she resists new materials required for school. I happen to like rereading books. My wife rereads the same novels every few years. Leigh’s rereading is different. She has a few books she will read, probably fewer than a dozen.
Anne learned to read once the pandemic forced us into homeschooling. Working with Anne on reading was painful. She resisted reading in every imaginable way. Tantrums were common. She kicked, screamed, and threw herself about the floor. Meanwhile, I’d sit there and wait for her to read one or two sentences.
Anne realized we wouldn’t surrender. She had to do some work before doing what she wanted. She still resists learning, though. Anne loves to look at books but hates reading aloud because it’s difficult. Her reading will improve and Anne will grow more confident reading aloud.
Our Homeschooling Isn’t ‘Normal’ Homeschooling.
Pandemic parenting means taking time to teach social skills. It means Mom and Dad are the only other people the girls see daily. I worry the girls are spending far too much time on schoolwork, yet there are state standards we’re trying to meet.
All we can do is our best, as a family, and hope we’re finding the right balance.
When I read online posts from other homeschooling families, they mention how quickly each day’s work is completed. Homeschooling allows for a shorter, more focused school day. The children have three- and even four-day weekends to explore science, technology, the arts, and other interests. These families post photos of their hands-on projects, the students smiling and engaged.
“Just let the children explore and learn at their own pace. You’ll be amazed. It’s like a Montessori school, but even better!”
As an autistic adult with ADHD, I cannot complete a 15-minute task within an hour. I know not to expect my children to do what I cannot. The girls face additional obstacles, making it even more difficult for them to focus and complete tasks.
Getting sidetracked is what I do. However, being aware that I get sidetracked compels me to do all I can to ensure that I catch myself when I am straying from tasks. I learned to prioritize tasks early as a student because I was afraid I’d forget to do something and fail. Leigh has that same fear. She hasn’t been able to adopt successful self-management techniques.
I spend the school days shuttling between the girls. Before our afternoon PE time, my FitBit often records more than 5000 steps. We cannot have a single common study area for homeschooling. We tried that approach and it failed miserably.
The youngest, Anne, requires an adult sitting across from her throughout the school day. If I look down at my iPad or try to use my MacBook Pro, she doesn’t do the schoolwork. If I have to leave the table, there’s no predicting what she’ll be doing when I return.
Trying to prepare notes for this podcast episode, Anne refused to read directions on her homework handouts and earned poor grades. She has to read instructions aloud to an adult or she will not read them at all. She will do what she wants to do. I gave up trying to work on my blogs and podcast at the table because I focus on my screen. We cannot take a break from monitoring Anne, for her safety and our sanity.
Our home has an open floor plan, so I can monitor Anne while I prepare my tea throughout the day. Sometimes I have to take a phone call or step into my office. Susan and I try to hand off monitoring duties so Anne knows an adult is nearby. Even a bathroom break requires handing off Anne to Mommy.
If we are out of her sight too long, Anne will sneak into the kitchen pantry and take candy. We have to monitor this because she’ll take sweets from sealed bags or closed canisters. We have tried snack times, rewards, and other approaches. She’s consumed raw, unsweetened baking cocoa. If it looks edible, she eats it.
Anne can be working behind Susan, in Mommy’s office, and toys will magically appear. Not one stuffed animal or one fidget, either. A collection of toys.
It’s not only her toys that end up transporting from place to place. Anne has the skills of a master cat burglar, which concerns us. She takes things from Mommy’s office, from Mommy’s craft cabinet, from Mommy’s closet, and from pretty much anywhere else Anne isn’t supposed to be looking. A few times, she’s taken things from Daddy’s office, too.
Children from foster care, chaotic split families, and similar situations often keep small items for security. They experienced leaving things behind: clothes, toys, and personal mementos. Everything feels important. Many autistics and children with RAD also form attachments to objects.
Both girls brought home things from school that belonged to other students, their teachers, or the classroom. We returned the items and kept explaining to the girls that they couldn’t just take things they wanted.
We’re still working with the girls on respecting other people’s property. Just because something is in the house doesn’t mean it belongs to everyone.
Like Anne, Leigh also ends up with toys and random items on her desk if we don’t check on her frequently. A fidget or single stuffed animal is allowed, but the girls pile up toys and miscellaneous stuff to the point of burying their work.
Leigh wants to follow rules and make good choices. Her ADHD symptoms bother Leigh, contributing to her anxiety. She hates knowing that she gets distracted, causing her to miss simple homework questions. Sometimes, Leigh gets angry with herself.
Most low grades she receives are not Leigh’s fault. She skips around on assignments. She loses her place. She forgets to double-check her work. She often writes incomplete answers. Even though you can tell she had the right answer in mind, she doesn’t earn the points. She’ll get distracted mid-sentence or even mid-word when writing a response.
Perfectionism crashes into Leigh’s Neurodiversity. Her ADHD, autism, anxiety, and other obstacles interfere with her obsession with being a good student. Leigh has said she feels like a failure. She has good grades, yet she will tell you they are horrible.
Anne isn’t merely distracted: she’s oppositional. Her grades don’t matter to her. Rules don’t matter to her.
Anne declares almost daily that she doesn’t have to do what I ask her to do. When Susan and I try to help her, Anne gets angry, insulting, and has even threatened to throw things at us. Minutes later, she’ll be apologizing and wanting a hug. In school, Anne would hide under tables, toss chairs, and act out in other ways.
When there’s a problem, we have to untangle all the potential reasons for Anne’s words and actions. Then, we have to try various approaches to calming her, hoping we have identified the correct cause.
I have reservations about using medications, and I distrust the mental health professions. As parents, Susan and I turned to medications as our absolute last resort for the girls.
Anne cannot control her emotions or her impulses without medication. I hope, with all my heart, that someday she will have that control.
Leigh would never through a chair or scream. Her anxieties cause her to freeze under pressure. When Leigh earns a low score on an assignment or activity, she cries.
Some experts advised using technology, while others cautioned against it.
Many autistics, including me, rely heavily on technology to stay organized. Online learning works well for me, too. But, as I’ve mentioned before on the podcast, no solution works for every student.
Early in the pandemic, we saw that computer time had to be carefully supervised for both girls.
The arguments for computers and tablets are reasonable: the learning is self-paced, students cannot skip problems, and feedback is immediate. With gamification, the learning activities should help students stay on task. Yes, it’s all very reasonable.
I did my master’s thesis and doctoral dissertation on issues with online learning. I know the promises don’t match reality, and technology isn’t the same as a human teacher.
How many adults get distracted by multiple browser tabs and too many applications running? Numerous studies have found humans cannot multitask effectively. Yet, technology tempts us to do just that. Gamification leads to a focus on winning, not learning.
Anne and Leigh, like most children, have mastered task switching and tab clicking. Turn your back and they are playing games, no matter how carefully security is configured. We use all the parental controls… and the girls know the loopholes.
When Mommy wasn’t watching carefully, Anne was off watching YouTube videos. She realized one browser blocked YouTube so she used a different browser.
“Trust the children and they will develop good habits.”
What happened was they wasted hours and finished nothing assigned to them.
The girls have their own Amazon Fire Tablets and we have two computers they share: a Windows computer the girls helped build and a Mac mini. We’re not anti-technology — we just have learned from experience that technology has to be monitored at least until the girls mature.
I would love, absolutely love, to trust the girls to work independently. As a college instructor, I’ve seen how some young adults are self-directed. However, most of the young people I’ve had as students needed support to meet deadlines. They needed email reminders, calendars, and checklists.
My eight- and nine-year-old daughters are still extrinsically motivated. They don’t grasp doing good work simply because that’s the right thing to do. They certainly don’t understand delayed gratification.
By mid-November, the girls were learning new material. The math, English, and science lessons became more challenging. The more difficult schoolwork led to frustration and lower grades on assignments. Then, we hit the holidays, adding to household stress.
I hate watching the girls struggle with school. Leigh has said she wants to continue with homeschooling because she’s learning more. Anne wants to continue homeschooling because Susan and I can be more flexible than classroom teachers.
December and January have been difficult for everyone in our household. Anne is more volatile. Leigh is more anxious.
The girls need sleep. We all do.
We’re all tired from the lack of sleep. When the girls wake up, I try to manage their needs so Susan can sleep.
As I mentioned early, we recently worked via telemedicine on CBT, Cognitive Behavioral Therapy. The hope was that Leigh could “reason through” her anxieties and reduce some of her more distressing impulses. We were going to apply what we learned to both girls.
Yes, they both have difficulty falling asleep and staying asleep. We’ve tried everything you can imagine, from relaxation techniques to medications. Leigh also had a sleep study before we moved to Texas.
Neurodiversity often comes with insomnia. I rarely sleep well. My mind never pauses, especially at night without distractions. I contemplate everything. I think about everything I could do better, everything I should have accomplished, and everything I need to do the next day. At least I’m only stuck trying to clear my mind. I listen to old-time radio or podcasts so I can focus on someone else talking instead of my thoughts.
We’ve put Internet radios in every bedroom. We’ve tried white noise, nature sounds, classical music, and old-time radio. The girls still fight going to sleep.
They sometimes have nightmares. They worry about someone breaking into the house. They worry about being taken at night. They worry at night about the next day.
I have wondered if the holidays and new year triggered family memories or issues related to their history as foster-adopt children.
The long, sleepless nights lead to long days.
In the morning, I sit at the table across from Anne. I check on Leigh several times an hour. It feels like I’m sleepwalking through the day.
After dinner and bath, we have reading time. The girls go to bed between 7 and 7:30 each night. I grade their work, take notes on what we need to review. I also have to fit in another hour of more vigorous exercise for myself. I prepare the next day’s work before going to bed. It takes about 30 minutes to organize the girls’ folders.
For two months I haven’t been able to set aside a full hour or two for my own projects. The girls are my priority, because that’s what parenthood means.
Taking a day off leads to several horrible days trying to get back on track. That’s how it is for the girls, and me. Disruptions ruin not just the day, but at least two more following days.
When I get off-track with the blog or podcast, it takes me weeks to recover and refocus, so I’m not going to demand more of the girls than I can do.
The girls and I are experiencing similar emotions as their struggles affect my projects and my personal goals. I know it wasn’t good to seemingly neglect The Autistic Me for two months. I realize podcasts and blogs need to follow schedules to build their audiences. I worry that I’m failing, just as Leigh feels like a failure. I get annoyed at myself and everyone around me, just as Anne does.
I want to be a better parent, and I am doing all I can to help the girls succeed.
The pandemic has added a layer of stress to our lives. With the girls at home all the time, there’s never a break for Susan and me. We’re always in parent-teacher mode. Part of me wants everything to return to normal so the girls will be in classrooms with other children, being guided by teachers other than me.
The girls would rather be homeschooled, yet able to participate in other activities. Susan and I agree the girls have made more progress at home than they ever did in public schools. For now, any decision to return next school year will be made by COVID, not us.
I don’t know when The Autistic Me will return to a regular schedule. For now, I can only do my best to write, record, edit, and post content whenever time permits.
Please be patient. Be sure to subscribe to the podcast and follow the blog on social media so you’ll know when I manage to post the promised new content.
Thank you, from my family and me, for listening to The Autistic Me Podcast and reading the blog.
The Autistic Me
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