Regurgitating and Brain Dumping

I want to talk about school for a few minutes.  Do you remember back when you were in school wondering why on earth you had to learn some of the things "they" said you had to learn?  The particular "irrelevant" subject certainly varied from kid to kid, but there was almost certainly some class that you had to take to meet "graduation requirements" that just seemed to have no relevance to your life at all.

Even more so, I bet there were classes, including perhaps many you did agree might have usefulness down the road, but especially the boring/irrelevant/meaningless to you classes, where you spent a lot of time "cramming" for the test so you could regurgitate the correct answers and get that good grade, or make the honor roll, or keep yourself from being grounded.  And odds are you brain dumped most of what you "learned" as soon as the test (or the class) was over and the "final results" were in.  

I could give you many personal examples from my own schooling, but I really doubt that's necessary.  I'm sure you've already thought of your own.  

So, what's up with that, anyway?  Do you remember how stupid itnall seemed back then?  Do you remember griping with your fellow classmates, wondering when you would ever use any of this disjointed information you had to pass tests on?  

Okay, now here's another question:  Have you actually used or needed a lot of that regurgitated and brain dumped information, or was it really just something to "test" you on and keep you occupied with at the time?  I bet you say "yes and no."  Some of the info you probably did need or want to know later and some of it you probably didn't.  

So, one more question:  When you DID need to know that "something" down the road, how hard was it to learn and actually understand and even remember it (instead of forgetting it again) when it finally had personal relevance to you (beyond the relevance of getting the grade)? Is that not when the "real" learning finally happened?

Okay, so, if the "real" learning happened when you had a personal, meaningful interest in the subject and it had personal relevance to your life (perhaps of necessity or perhaps as a hobby), and if that learning actually came easier and lasted longer than the disected "regurgitate and brain dump" learning for the test/grade/credit, why do we spend so much time and effort learning disected information in chopped up classes and segments that we are just going to brain dump anyway once the class is passed?  And if this is something we already know intuitively (as we did when we were cramming and regurgitating and brain dumping and wondering why when we were in school), why do our schools not only still "teach" that way, but do it even more so than they did when we were in class?

Guess what!  I found out why!  There IS a reason for the insanity!

Back in the 1800's, psychology was trying to prove itself as a legitimate "science.". But there was one BIG problem.  To be a respected "science," you had to be able to conduct experiments, and you had to have both an "experimental group" and a "control group" and a testable "variable."  (surely you can still recite the steps of the scientific method!  If not, then how do you judge all the "science" in the news today?)  But psychology with regard to human learning had some big challenges, because everybody's life experiences were different, and what they had already learned was different, and how they learned it was different, and why they learned it was different.  The wanna-be psycho-scientists couldn't create valid and repeatable experiments because they couldn't create "equal" or "comparable" experimental and contorl groups, and they couldn't find unique variables to test the groups' ability to learn because everyone already knew different stuff and had different learning backgrounds already.  That's just how life is!

So they had a real problem on their hands.  They needed to invent a way to create testable and compare-able groups, and they couldn't find a way to do it.  Until someone solved the problem--you had to detach the "learning" from real life!  You couldn't scientifically test and compare how people learned in real life (which people had already "known" for thousands of years--you learn from other people, and you learn what is interesting and relevant).  Instead, you had to scientifically test and compare how people learned NOT in real life.  Which means you had to create "fake" learning.  Detached learning.  Disembodied, disconnected, irrelevant learning.  Irrelevant meant it had to have no possible meaning to anyone's real (real--relevant).  What the testees had to be tested on, what they had to learn, had to be irelevant, it had to make no sense, it had to be NONsense.  

And that's the magical solution that a German psych named Hermann Ebbinghaus came up with in the late 1800's.  In order to study how people learn and remember (and later how they forget), he devised a list os NONsense syllables for people to memorize (and regurgitate).  Because the syllables were not part of any known language, they could have no relevance to anyone's previous life and learning, and therefore they not only made for a great test variable, but they also created by default acceptable experiment and control groups.  Problem solved!

And guess what his experiments showed?  Exactly what everyone already knew, of course.  Learning nonsense, information with no relevance to ones life experience or interests, takes a lot of effort, precisely because it has no relevance to the learner.  Subsequently, he "discovered" that we quite quickly and easily brain dump all this irrelevant nonsense because it is, well, irrelevant.  What we learn and remember is information and skills we are interested in and which have relevance.  (It has a lot to do with "short term memory" vs "long term memory," btw, but I'm already writing a book here!)

So. if the discovery was the confirmation that we learn and remember what we are interested in and what has relevance to our lives, and that we only "memorize, regurgitaite, and brain dump" the info that we don't have experience with or interest in learning (beyong learning for the grade), why on earth do we run our schools (and our autism intervention programs, I might add) precisely that way?  I can answer that question too, now, but I really ought to stop for now and get on with "real life" again this morning!  Perhaps I'll find another large uninterrupted block of time for "part 2" if anyone else finds this relevant and interesting!  (I sure do, and not because I have to pass a test for "them," whoever "they" are!)           

Self-narration

This morning we were getting ready to make a commissary run. I told Jman he needed to brush his teeth. Usually I get balking at this, but today he got up and walked into the bathroom, carrying his iPod with him. As he entered the bathroom, I heard some of the pages he was navigating through in ProLoQuo2Go: My Spaces, followed by My Places, followed by My House, followed by Bathroom, followed by Personal Care. Each of those was a ‘category’ that led his to another page of choices.

Now in the bathroom, with the page opened up to “Personal Care,” Jman punched in “brush teeth” “toothbrush” “toothpaste” “awesome”. And it truly was awesome! He was ‘narrating’ the activity of getting his teeth brushed! Associating language with the action going on, self-narrating, and even commenting on the whole scenario (awesome!) is so way cool! Those really are huge developmental leaps for someone on the spectrum. In Jman's case, he's doubly challenged by his complicating language issues. For him to begin some proto-type self-narration with the P2G is fabulous stuff, and continuing confirmation that AAC was a great way to go for helping Jman finally begin to learn and expand language. It seems it will also help him with encoding episodic memories as well, especially as he plays around with and uses some of the comments and emotional language choices available. (He's having fun playing around with "I like it" and "I don't like it" lately. He hasn't applied them to anything yet, that I know of, but he played around with "awesome" for a while before spontaneously applying it this morning.)

Down the road we’ll continue to work on details of grammar and syntax and communicating in ‘complete sentences,’ but the fact that his mind is engaged and narrating events with language is just fabulous. We have a long way to go, but he’s taking some terrific baby steps on his own with ProLoQuo2Go. Now if we could just keep him from deleting the app from his iPod! Hopefully that’s just a phase he’ll grow out of. :)

Jman, YOU are awesome!

Coloring outside the lines

Jman has indeed continued to work on his book he made a week and a half ago. Over the days, he gradually filled in the pages with drawings from books, videos, and whatever struck him at the time. Here's a picture that I think is based on one of his favorite books, "The Good-Night Train." I flipped through the (real) book and couldn't find a picture exactly like this one, but the style is much the same. I'm pretty sure the book was inspiration for his drawing.

About a week ago Jman and I were at a store where I saw a Wall-e coloring book I offered to get for him. He brought it home and disappeared with it. I didn't think too much about it for a while. Then I noticed that he was indeed coloring in it and drawing in it. One of the weaknesses of coloring books is that they might have a tendency to squelch your artistic creativity, seeing as how the drawing is there and all you have to do is fill in the colors.

But Jman isn't one to necessarily play by the rules. He added his own flair to the pictures he colored. Here he added a baseball cap and Frankenstein bolts to Eve, and drew in a hologram projection of the plant in a boot that she found but which was missing.
I think this one is really sweet. This is a picture of Wall-e and Eve 'dancing' in space near the mother ship Axiom. Jman paintstakingly colored the picture in, but then added his own touch: music notes! Afterall, the mostly 'non-verbal' movie was playing music while Wall-e and Eve were 'dancing with the stars!' And if you've noticed, Jman also didn't feel constrained by the coloring book's binding. He selected these two masterpieces from the coloring book, removed them from their original binding, and tried to add them to the book that he had made. Especially interesting is the fact that he placed them inside the 'covers' of the book, removing the last notebook page and putting the coloring pages just in front of that last page before trying to reassemble his book.

When I considered what Jman was doing with his coloring book, I thought about what he was 'supposed to do' with a coloring book. According to 'the rules,' he should have colored the pictures as they were drawn, using appropriate color choices (not a rainbow striped, largely pink mother ship, for example), and certainly leaving the book assembled. If he was in school or in an ABA program, his thinking and creativity would have been squelched, or 'extinguished,' as is the proper and popular terminology. He would have had the 'art project' designed and dictated by someone else. He and all the other kids in the class would have produced essentially identical and interchangeable products. It would have been very . . . boring, and mind-numbing.

But Jman isn't forced into that box. Instead, he has the opportunity to think and be creative. He's able to appreciate what others have already created (such as the books he's studying and using), but then he has the freedom to crawl out of that box and create his own interpretations and expressions. Jman is allowed to color outside the lines, and it's a beautiful thing!

Jman's first book

A couple days ago I caught Jman doing something I'd never seen him do before. He was trying to staple pieces of paper together. I've never seen Jman use a stapler before. I've seen him use tape, and I've occasionally had him use glue sticks. But I can't recall a time when I had him stapling anything, or when he was fixing pages together. But there he was--working very hard to staple a stack of pages together. Even funnier was the fact that he'd cut all the pieces of paper out of a spiral bound notebook. It seemed he destroyed one notebook to try to make another book.

Anyway, left to his own timing and his own devices, Jman has recently begun making great use of both scissors, and now, without instruction, he's using staplers as well. (Or he's trying to. He had almost too many pages for the little stapler we have, so I had to help him actually get the staples through the paper once I found him. He was trying hard though!)

Jman didn't do anything with his stapled pages right away. Just assembling the pages seemed project enough for him at that time. It was later that I discovered the larger project he was working on. He was drawing the cover page for a book he was making, modeled loosely on a couple of 'real books' he has.


At first he only did the cover page, then set the project aside once again. This is rather unusual drawing behavior for Jman. He typically draws on a page, then draws on the next, and then the next, and then the next. He can go through a 70 page one subject notebook in no time. (Good thing I stocked up on them one year when they were six cents each for back-to-school!) But Jman wasn't filling in the pages on this project of his at lightning speed. Just the cover, and then he set it aside.

Today I noticed he has added a couple more pages to his book. I honestly was expecting to find the first couple pages copied from his real My First 500 Words book, but that was not the case. Instead, the first picture resembles a drawing from a different book, and I'm not sure where the next drawing is from. However, that next drawing spans two pages. Another interesting variation, because Jman usually only draws on the front side of a piece of paper, not the back side. To draw a picture spanning two pages with writing on the back side of a page is a new thing for him.


Now, why do I share all these odd little observations? I suppose because I just find it absolutely fascinating. Even left to his own devices, Jman continues to learn and discover and create and grow in new and surprising and exciting ways. I have to work very hard to resist the impulse to jump in there and start taking his projects over, trying to direct him and 'make the most of' his projects. Either I could be teaching him more skills or academicky stuff, or I could be usurping his projects and interests to try to work on social and communication skills.

But when I resist the urge to take over, I'm realizing that he perhaps learns and grows even more. For example, rather than taking over his book-making project, I stepped in and helped him with the stapling problem. He just couldn't squeeze that little stapler hard enough to get it through the number of pages he had. I noticed, I stepped in, I offered help, which he accepted. And then I stepped back out and let him keep doing his thing when he didn't need me anymore. Perhaps that is an even better way of working on the relationship and communication skills--gradually teaching him that I'm interested and there when he needs or wants me, but also that I'm not going to come in and take over and ruin all the fun.

I've contemplating maybe doing a little more 'parallel' with him. If he's making a book, maybe I could make a book too. Not trying to take his over, not trying to direct his project, but just maybe finding a non-controlling way to 'share the experience' a little more deeply with him. Just as he borrowed my idea of folding the paper when I made a card and he made a DVD case, maybe we could both get some creative juices flowing and share and communicate more with some other parallel projects. I've even wondered if his book-making project stemmed in some way from the paper DVD case he made. It's an interesting thought.

Anyway, Jman is making a book, little by little, and that's a new thing for him. I wonder how long he'll continue with this project of his, I wonder how it will ultimately turn out, and I wonder about maybe creating my own parallel book to see what comes of that sharing. And increasingly I'm more and more comfortable with relaxing and 'unschooling' Mr. Autism.

Building on success

Over the last few weeks, Jman has built three little Lowes workshop projects with me: a jewelry box, a bird house, and a hang glider. These three little events make for a decent little venture into explaining a bit about episodic memory and autism. First, a couple loose definitions are in order.

People on the autistic spectrum often excel at procedural memory. They can remember exactly how to do things (and heaven help you if you don't do it exactly "right," the way they remember and expect!). For example, I remember when Jman at 3-4 years old had no trouble with the procedures of making himself lunch. Rather than waiting for the family or asking for help, he'd get homemade gfcf chicken nuggets out of the freezer, put them on a plate, microwave them for the correct amount of time, and add ketchup. He was in school and receiving speech and ABA at home at the time. I remember his SLP being flabbergasted at what he was doing in the kitchen while we were chatting one day. I also remember my being flabbergasted at her being flabbergasted. After all, the common saying around our house was (and still is): "He's not stupid! He's just autistic!" Procedural memory is the memory of facts and procedures, and is thus very rote, very sterile, very black and white, right or wrong, and something that is NOT a deficit in autism.

People on the autistic spectrum do struggle with episodic memory, however. Episodic memory is the memory of episodes in one's life AND the personal meaning that one attaches to those episodes. For example, if you ask your child what they did at school today and they give you a run down of all the events that happened but without any emotion or reflection or opinion, that is NOT episodic memory but rather procedural memory. They may answer, "First I did my math lesson. Then we had music today and learned to sing 'Goober Peas.' Later I ate my lunch outside. I sat with Johnny and Susie at the table. Johnny stole Susie's apple. Susie told the teacher and Johnny got in trouble. Then we went back to class and did reading." That kind of answer is procedural memory; it tells what happened.

However, if your child's answer included emotion and reflection and projection such as this it would be episodic memory: "I did math first today. I like it when we get math over with first thing. And Johnny got in trouble at lunch today! He stole Susie's apple AGAIN! This time Susie ratted on him, and he got in big trouble! Mrs. Smith said Johnny has to eat his lunch alone the rest of this week. Serves him right! I'm not gonna sit at Johnny's table anymore. I wouldn't want him to steal MY lunch next time!"

So, do you see how procedural memory is the 'how to' memory of facts and procedures, but episodic memory involves attaching emotional meaning to personal events in our lives and using that meaning to both reflect on past events and to help one project how they might act in the future? Episodic memory is one of the core deficits of autism spectrum disorders. Someone on the spectrum may remember great details about what happened, but they struggle with understanding and applying the why of what happened and with extracting personal meaning from the events or episodes in their lives.

This deficit in the area of episodic memory has huge ramifications on someone's developing a sense of Self. It affects their ability to evaluate things from different people's perspectives. It also undermines their confidence in their ability to deal with future events, especially when they are unexpected or when they 'go wrong.' They don't have a store house of personal memories of overcoming challenges or solving problems to pull from and to apply to present circumstances that may be challenging. They don't have a store house of personal memories to help guide their thinking in future dreaming and planning. It's more like life was a book they read of events that happened, but that they are still somewhat detached from, even though they were there. Episodic memory is very closely related to autobiographical memory. Could you imagine being a person who has lived a life but is without a personally meaningful 'autobiography?' That's similar to the challenge that folks on the spectrum face in living life. They have great procedural how-to memories, but deficient episodic memories of personal meaning and reflection.

Now, back to the Lowes building projects. The first project was building the jewelry box at home. By building it at home, we reduced potential obstacles to success (noise level, number of people in the room, unfamiliar sounds, uncomfortable lighting conditions, other distractions, etc). We also eliminated the obstacle of time. There was no pressure to be at a certain place at a certain time or to complete the project in a certain amount of time. By reducing the obstacles to his success (or by setting things up positively to increase his likelihood of success) we were 'scaffolding' the project. To read more about that, check out the post on the "Long" and "Short" of it. Our success at building the jewelry box was the first step in constructing some positive episodic memories that Jman could pull on in future endeavors.

Following on that success, the next Saturday we went to Lowes. We hoped that he would remember our successfully building the jewely box together and thus be more comfortable twith approaching the next building project. We thought we'd give Jman the opportunity to build the project there at Lowes, but were totally prepared to simply pick the project up and to build at home. However, Jman did remember his success from the jewelry box and was willing to build there at Lowes. You can read more about it at birdhouse. Now we had a sequence of successes beginning to build in his episodic memory. He applied his successful building with me at home to be able to try building with me in a more challenging environment there at Lowes. And, much to our delight, he was successful in building the birdhouse with me at Lowes too.

This past Saturday was yet another building project at Lowes. However, he was NOT having a good morning. He didn't want to put on his sandals. He didn't want to leave the truck. He didn't want to enter the store. We were quickly adjusting down our expectations and just hoping to have him walk to the back of the store with us to pick up the project to bring home. We did what we always try to do when Jman is feeling particularly stressed for some reason (often unknown to us): we slowed down. And slowly Jman did join me, walk through the store with me, and into the back work room. Then, much to our amazement, he chose a seat, sat down, picked up the project pack and began trying to get it open. Apparently, even though he was not having a good morning, he recalled his successes at building and wanted more success! Isn't it amazing how success is addictive? And so, once again, we stayed at Lowes and together built the hang glider.

I've speculated over the last couple weeks as to why he worked so well at Lowes after the serious meltdowns he's had at Lowes in the past. I think the answer is largely two-fold. First, the physical environment provided for the workshops at this Lowes provides much better scaffolding for Jman than the Lowes in FL did. Here the workshop is in a smaller room, well lit (though still fluorescent), with tables and chairs. In FL the kids worked in a warehouse room with poor lighting and poor acoustics and were given rubber mats to sit on to do their work on the floor. For Jman, that environment was very distracting and unsettling, but here it's rather pleasant in comparison. Scaffolding the physical environment, particularly when one does not have a solid repetoire of episodic memories to call on for internal scaffolding can be critical to success.

Second is of course episodic memory. Jman still does not have the language to tell me in words what emotions or meanings he's deriving from shared events like our building projects. But based on his gestures and actions, it certainly seems that Jman is slowly building an autobiography of successful episodes of trusting me to lead him and to work together with him through little events like Lowes building projects. We could take the development of successful episodic memories a step further by putting together a little scrapbook of our building projects to look at and share, reflecting on the past and perhaps projecting into the future about other projects (at Lowes or something entirely different) that we could do together. We could include the certificates of completion and/or the patches that Lowes includes with photos of us working on the project. It'd be interesting to see how Jman would relate and respond to such a scrapbook over time. Someday maybe he'll be building me a rocking chair for my old age in his own workshop and reminescing with me about the good old days when we built birdhouses together at Lowes. Wouldn't that be cool?