The Occupational Therapy Fairy

A Quiet Week In The House

My son’s autism diagnosis shocked me less than his proposed therapy schedule. The clinicians proclaimed that he needed 25-35 hours of therapy. Without it, he may not have the tools to be mainstreamed in school.

I struggled with this mightily.

Specialists came to our home and saw him at the early intervention center.  He is not the child you see, I explained. Tyoma was sweet, playful, and bright.  He only ran around maniacally because everything was so new.  Sympathetic smiles and pity faces were stock responses.

Let me emphasize–I don’t begrudge the efforts of the regional autism center.  Several staff members, however,  left me feeling patronized and disbelieved.

For two years I absorbed book after book about autism therapy—A.B.A., Floortime, DIR, and RDI.  All of these treatments had one thing in common–they sort of worked, some of the time.

Ultimately, when Tyoma was in a teachable place—he learned.  When Tyoma was disorganized, these  interventions failed.

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