Inspired by Judith Snow…

Hasbury on Snow

 

This month’s SCDot6 post is given over to two dear friends on the occasion of the Celebration of Life for one and the incredibly poetry she inspired in the other.

There are hundreds of articles and videos and tributes written by and about Judith Snow. She was just as influential and funny and pointed and impatient and thoughtful as those pieces make her out to be.

Judith challenges us to question our assumptions about what folks can and cannot do and where they can and cannot live. She thumbed her nose at our low expectations and exhortations about safety. Yes, it took a whole team of folks — her circle of support — to get her out of that institution and into “the community”, but, ironically, Judith created community wherever she was and that institution was hardly a barrier to her — except that it was.

So, dear one, on this 6th day of June, question your assumptions. Then do it again on June 7. And again on June 8.

David Hasbury — a deep thinker in his own right — captures it so well in his grief-and-gratitude-laced poem.

We’re sad, but we celebrate.

And we keep on truckin’.

 

—-

The image is a colorful, painted background with David Hasbury’s poem written on top of it.

Inspired by Judith Snow…

What more can life ask of us?
…be present in the form that carries our spirit
…follow the questions that call our name
…embody the visions that enter our mind, finding rest at home in our heart
…uncover the gifts that we carry, placing them within reach of those who need the magic they hold

“Does this count?”

Bernie's Sprite in MetalAs we’ve walked this homeschooling journey there are a handful of questions that have become kind of predictable.

Most often it’s the “what about socialization??” one we get from folks. Whole books and blogs have been written on this topic. So I’ll leave it with my standard, short answer: I still get the shakes when I recall my 5th grade teacher, Ms Everhart, screaming, “We are not here to socialize!!!”  Homeschoolers definitely socialize and we don’t scream at our kids for doing it.

Other questions we field regularly are about testing or curriculum or state oversight — you know, how does this work? I get those questions about 3 times a week and have standard answers for them, too.

The really hard homeschooling questions come from my kids as we work through this process together.

Their favorite questions? “What’s the plan?” and “Does this count?”  The first one I can answer pretty easily — in the moment if not for the long-term (eek!) — by handing them an agenda or telling them the schedule for the day. The second one is tougher because it kind of breaks my heart a little.

See, my kids have spent enough time in public school to know that there are endorsed activities — the work you get credit for — and then there is that other stuff that you are welcome to do on your own time, but which “doesn’t count” toward your grade.

I get it. It’s the way school currently works. The teacher has a rubric passed down from on high. S/he comes up with an assignment that meets some part of that rubric, gives it to the class, collects it, grades it, and puts a check mark in that box.  Next.  S/he may really want to see the kids do fascinating, creative stuff, but there really isn’t a place to put that into the rubric, so s/he smiles and says, “Cool*” and moves on.

But it doesn’t count.

Gosh, this seems backwards.

In my kids’ jargon, this whole scene is an epic fail.

When I walked into my studio this morning, Gillian had just clicked send on her daily homework email. She’d gotten up early, completed her core course requirements, and emailed me her scores and written assignments for my responses. She looked up and said, “Good morning, Mama. Does my scarf count as art?”

::pause::

Sigh. I would love for my kids to know in their marrow that whatever they do counts. I don’t mean that they should expect a grade for everything they do. I want them to get the bigger view; to recognize their contributions and experiments and dalliances and projects as meaningful whether or not I’m going to give them some kind of officially-stamped educational credit for it.

But she didn’t want a lecture on my learning and life philosophies. She wanted to know if what she was hoping to do next merited doing by whatever yardstick we measure homeschool credit.

So, here’s my kid who got up early, and did her assignments without my even having to ask (and, incidentally, taught herself to knit on a loom, designed a whole series of scarves she wants to make, and found all of the materials to make those scarves) questioning the value of what she’s going to do next.  What do I say to her?

::unpause::

“Of course it counts! It counts because it’s absolutely an artistic expression, it demonstrates competency in a skill, and produces something you find valuable and beautiful. But, Gillian, you need to know that even if all it did was interest you and you want to check it out and there was nothing to show for it or to grade or admire at the end, it would still ‘count’. It would be just fine to do.”

We went on to discuss colors and yarns and designs and patterns, but the conversation stuck with me all day.

As I snapped a picture of Bernie’s metalwork sign (above) and Gillian’s scarves in progress (below) and watched their minds work through the problems of creating these artistically-interesting and technically-challenging expressions it really hit me how lucky — is that the right word? — we are that we, as a family, get to decide how to spend our days and what to study and, yes, what counts.

But how rare is that?

How many cool, wonderful ideas and opportunities pass us right by because we aren’t getting graded/paid/congratulated/noticed for doing them?

As Mary Oliver (1992) asks in this excerpt from her lovely poem The Summer Day,

QuoteI do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?

Indeed. So, get on with it because you, my dear, get to decide what counts.

* or whatever it is that the kids want to hear these days

Oliver, M. (1992). New and selected poems. Beacon Press: Boston, MA.

Gillian's colorful scarves on looms

Making the Moves so that my Child can Dance

Gillian Picture Day

I’ve been struggling with something for a while that suddenly became very clear for me this week.

Several months ago — after I got past the shock of having Berns enrolled in a private school that allows him to work from home — I started getting these little nudges to do the same for Gillian. I kept batting them down for several reasons. As I worked through each of my concerns I was left with two remaining excuses to keep things status quo: we love her team at school and things weren’t “bad enough” to make a change seem worth the drama.

So, as these things tend to go, the more I turned away from this intuitive nudge, the louder the signals became. I do believe in purpose and order in our universe, even when I want to pretend otherwise. I knew we were headed this way, but kept telling myself “in middle school!!” and then when even that timeline seemed to be stretching it as we watched Gillian getting more and more uncomfortable, “the end of the semester!!” So, it really came as no shock when I got the call on Friday sending her home for the 4th time in 2 months with nits in spite of endless poisonous and prescription treatments, combing, and laundry.

But I was still kind of in the stew. And then I “accidentally” rediscovered the link to Sir Ken Robinson’s TEDtalk on creativity. While I don’t necessarily agree that schools — in general — kill creativity. I do believe that they are a better fit for some kids than for others. In this talk Ken talks about a famous dancer and choreographer, Gillian Lynne. Yes. That’s her real name and its real spelling. I’ve read the book he references (It’s actually titled “The Element”) and bawled when I read Lynne’s story. It reminds me so much of two of our girls — Skye, our professional dancer, doughnut maker, and upbeat ed assistant; and her baby sister, Gillian.

I’ll include Ken Robinson’s 19-minute TEDtalk on Creativity and the three-paragraph excerpt that won’t stop running through my head here.

And the third thing about intelligence is, it’s distinct. I’m doing a new book at the moment called “Epiphany,” which is based on a series of interviews with people about how they discovered their talent. I’m fascinated by how people got to be there. It’s really prompted by a conversation I had with a wonderful woman who maybe most people have never heard of; she’s called Gillian Lynne –have you heard of her? Some have. She’s a choreographer and everybody knows her work. She did “Cats” and “Phantom of the Opera.” She’s wonderful. I used to be on the board of the Royal Ballet in England, as you can see. Anyway, Gillian and I had lunch one day and I said, “Gillian, how’d you get to be a dancer?” And she said it was interesting; when she was at school, she was really hopeless. And the school, in the ’30s, wrote to her parents and said, “We think Gillian has a learning disorder.” She couldn’t concentrate; she was fidgeting. I think now they’d say she had ADHD. Wouldn’t you? But this was the 1930s, and ADHD hadn’t been invented at this point. It wasn’t an available condition. (Laughter) People weren’t aware they could have that.

Anyway, she went to see this specialist. So, this oak-paneled room, and she was there with her mother, and she was led and sat on this chair at the end, and she sat on her hands for 20 minutes while this man talked to her mother about all the problems Gillian was having at school. And at the end of it — because she was disturbing people; her homework was always late; and so on, little kid of eight — in the end, the doctor went and sat next to Gillian and said, “Gillian, I’ve listened to all these things that your mother’s told me, and I need to speak to her privately.” He said, “Wait here. We’ll be back; we won’t be very long,” and they went and left her. But as they went out the room, he turned on the radio that was sitting on his desk. And when they got out the room, he said to her mother, “Just stand and watch her.” And the minute they left the room, she said, she was on her feet, moving to the music. And they watched for a few minutes and he turned to her mother and said, “Mrs. Lynne, Gillian isn’t sick; she’s a dancer. Take her to a dance school.”

I said, “What happened?” She said, “She did. I can’t tell you how wonderful it was. We walked in this room and it was full of people like me. People who couldn’t sit still. People who had to move to think.” Who had to move to think. They did ballet; they did tap; they did jazz; they did modern; they did contemporary. She was eventually auditioned for the Royal Ballet School; she became a soloist; she had a wonderful career at the Royal Ballet. She eventually graduated from the Royal Ballet School and founded her own company — the Gillian Lynne Dance Company — met Andrew Lloyd Weber. She’s been responsible for some of the most successful musical theater productions in history; she’s given pleasure to millions; and she’s a multi-millionaire. Somebody else might have put her on medication and told her to calm down.

–Sir Ken Robinson, TED 2006

I can’t watch that video or read those three paragraphs without knowing, deep in my intuitive Mama soul, that Gillian needs to spend her days feeling successful and happy and dancing and creating art and writing stories and, yes, getting the core curriculum under her belt. She’s spent enough time trying to hold it together and be a good girl and make it through a day only to lose it and be embarrassed by her own inability to sit still and be quiet and wait for others to catch up to what she’s figured out hours or months ago.

As I’ve been struggling with this decision, Gillian’s been making plus and minus lists all Fall as we tried to figure out what parts of her day and week are working and which ones aren’t. It’s narrowed down to the fact that certain people are wonderful and important to her, she wants to participate in her class’ holiday program, and the rest is painful.

So, as awkward as the timing is, my husband, wasband, and I have talked it over and we’ve asked Gillian for her input. We’ve all decided it’s time to enroll her in The Farm School Satellite Program so that she can catch up on what she’s missed while being out of class because of the endless nit picking — both the literal kind and the more hurtful social kind — that she’s encountered this Fall. She’s ready to make the change and we, finally, are too.

The process is pretty simple. I’ll enroll her in The Farm School, they will request her records be transferred, the local school system will want any textbooks and library books back, we will sign an “everything is in order” form at her elementary school and she’ll be transferred.

Gillian had one request and I’m hoping we can make it work. She really wants to be able to go to school and see her classmates and support staff and say goodbye to everyone. The end of the school year is always excruciating for her, so I know this will be tough.

But, she’s a brave, funny, kind, loving, and talented girl. She’ll be fine.

I, on the other hand, may need to set a schedule to rewatch Sir Ken’s video to remind myself why I’m taking this leap with her.

How I Spent November’s Self Care Day on the 6th

November 6

When I first started the Self Care on the 6th thing, it was really the result of a rant. So I didn’t spend a whole lot of time thinking about the variations on how the day might go. I just launched.  I’m actually proud of myself for this fact. I don’t tend to be a leaper as much as I’m a precontemplater. So, launching… that was amazing.

And here we are three months in. Self Care Day on the 6th landed on a Sunday this month. It also happens to be the day most of the United States flops our calendars back to “standard time” and gain an extra hour in our day. It’s always a tough adjustment for me. My circadian rhythms are evidently etched in titanium because it takes some serious sleep deprivation before I get on a new schedule.

So, today I rested during that extra hour. I slept until I woke up (no alarms) and managed to sleep about an hour later than I usually do. It was wonderful. I only felt a tiny bit guilty as I reminded myself that sleeping in was a act of self care.

My second act of self care today was allowing my string of blog silence continue in spite of the fact that I had a self-imposed deadline. I wanted to encourage y’all, but I took my own advice and didn’t try to pour from an empty cup. I am working on refilling it as I recover from a pretty harsh relapse, and just don’t have the eloquence or the energy to write. So, I didn’t.  I’m here to report that it feels really good to follow my soul urgings in that way.

What I really wanted to do today was be present with my family. With that in mind, I used my extra hour to teach Lizzy to crochet. It’s a meticulous process, but she has the determination to learn. I love this woman. And, yes, she’s a woman now. She turned 18 this week. She’s been asking to learn to crochet for a while, so I got her a great handmade bag, a big hook, and a skein of yarn as part of her birthday celebration. There’s something precious about passing down this very rewarding art to my daughter.

I have another family-focused urging tickling the back of my head. I have been in precontemplation mode about homeschooling our youngest daughter for a couple of months. The question is, can I follow my intuition on this big a decision or am I still harboring fears about re-making that leap?

So, I’m going to use the extra hour one more time. We’re going to sit down as a family and talk about the future and how we’d like to go about living in the now while keeping an eye on then. What does education look like for our family? What does work look like? How do we schedule our days? Our months? Our years?

Living on purpose requires a bit of courage, suspension of disbelief, and pausing to take stock. It also takes time. Good thing we got that extra hour today.

Boo’s Blogging

Boo and Champ

 

As y’all may know, I’m homeschooling our boy child. In an attempt to connect writing with his interests, he’s starting to blog about the things he does and reads. Since his favorite activities involve gaming and reading and the dog, I suspect there will be a pretty heavy emphasis on these things.

Anywho, if you’re interested in what Boo has to say about Rocket Boys, he reviews the book here. He also did a first-day on Terraria post that sounds fascinating even though I haven’t a clue what he’s actually talking about.

Ahhhh… finally a “cool” way to get some words out of this kiddo. I love homeschooling. This is why.

Homeschooling: Literature Appreciation Class

Literature Appreciation Class by Gina Lynette

Gina’s Reading: Louder Than Words: A Mother’s Journey in Healing Autism

Louder than Words by Jenny McCarthyI so appreciate Ms McCarthy’s offering her experiences in this format.  She is an articulate reporter of the reality of folks who are living with a kid who has autism.  In Louder than Words: A Mother’s Journey in Healing Autism, Jenny McCarthy has opened up her world–often a painful one–for our scrutiny in hopes of helping other parents.

However, as a mom with two kiddos with diagnoses on the autism spectrum, I struggle somewhat with the “pull them through the window at any cost” theme of this book.  It is tough for any parent to find that balance between acceptance of your child’s abilities and desire to help them achieve more than they currently are.  It is nearly impossible to walk that line when your kids have a diagnosis.

Along with the diagnosis comes a cadre of professionals, pseudo-professionals, and well-meaning passersby who will offer you free and high-paid advice, threats, and guilt trips regarding the rearing of your child.  Do too much and you are a “cure-bie” who is in denial that your child will always be this way.  Do too little and you are neglecting your child and missing the window. I suppose I’m looking for voices that find that middle space. I didn’t hear that balance in Jenny’s book.

Maybe I’m the one who needs a kick in the pants to do more for my kids. I’m certainly not claiming to be the perfect mom. I am pretty invested in my kids, though, and truly want them to be more than a fix-er-upper project. They will likely always have autism, so there’s a large part of me that is looking for delight in that reality — yes, delight — and not more angst about the diagnostic reality.

So, would I recommend this book?  Sure.  It is an honest, heartfelt look at one mom’s journey through diagnosis and early treatment for her son’s autism.  It is a quick read and worth picking up.  Is it the only–or even one of the first 10 books about autism I would recommend?  Nope.  Karyn Seroussi’s book was equally honest with loads more info to help you chart your course–whether that course includes pulling your kid out a window or just sitting along side them as they do their own thing.

In short, Ms McCarthy dearly loves her son.  She has a strong desire to help other folks similarly situated.  It was a good read and food for thought.  I’m glad I added it to my shelf.

Coaching Through Transition: Part VII: Ethics

central park -- Gina Lynette

Over the course of several Tuesdays — Transition Tuesdays — I’m sharing one area of my practice that thrills me more than just about anything — coaching individuals with disabilities and their families as they transition from one life stage to another. Please note that while I’ll be describing a coaching scenario that is very similar to several families that I’ve worked with, it is an amalgamation of those conversations and is not based on any one family.

In Part I, I introduced you to Jon, Kate, and Dan and wrote a little about my approach to coaching families through the transition planning necessary to move students with disabilities from high school into an interdependent, adult life.

In Part II, I shared more about my role in working with Jon, Kate and Dan. I also talked some about what it means to be “humanistic” in coaching.

In Part III, I outlined the process and the steps I’m using to walk Jon and his parents through his transition. These steps form the structure for just about any coaching relationship.

In Part IV, we looked at the person-centered assessments I use during the Data Gathering portion of coaching a family through transition.

In Part V, we took a closer look at the PATH tool and discussed how delicious pie-in-the-sky dreaming can lead to some pretty delightful real-world results.

In Part VI, I shared a bit about coaching a family after they have identified their goals, including holding folks accountable, pooling needed resources and adjusting the plan as we go along.

Today we’re discussing a little about the ethical and multicultural considerations of coaching families through transitions. Honestly, this could be a whole series in and of itself, but I’m going to try to keep it brief.

 

Ethical Considerations

In working with individuals with disabilities, there must, must, must be a special emphasis on ethics. This portion of our population has traditionally been treated as less than human – ignored, institutionalized, abused and yes, even killed, often with little outrage from the rest of society. I approach my relationships with these individuals from a place of intense respect for their right to a self-determined life.

Balancing their right to choose situations that make them happy with their need for safety, health, and community inclusion is a delicate process. Regardless of the convoluting factors in the process, I, like any ethical practitioner, must hold the client’s well being in high regard, must practice from an informed and ethical standard, and ought to be very clear about what I am and am not promising through the process.

It is exciting and fascinating to be on the cutting edge of a new profession – but it also puts me, as a coach, in a risky position. As such, it is critical that anyone who coaches – however they choose to define it and wherever they acquire their credentials – keeps abreast of the latest developments in the field.

To quote the textbook:

QuoteInformed practitioners can draw on relevant academic literature to design and implement evidence-based interventions with their own clients and to evaluate client progress while adhering to ethical practice. — Stober and Grant

 

To get right down to it, I take ethics pretty seriously. I’ve taken graduate courses in Ethics, subscribe to both the APA (American Psychological Association) and ICF (International Coaching Federation) ethical guidelines, and practice under the supervision of a licensed psychologist. I never want a family to feel like we are in over our heads, and will quickly refer them for therapeutic support if it seems like that is what they need.

 

Back to Basics

I’ve mentioned Rogerian theory before. I consider myself a humanistic coach as Rogers might have defined such. A very basic tenet of humanistic work is the essential necessity of maintaining unconditional positive regard.

In my work with Jon, maintaining unconditional positive regard is paramount to his successful transition into adulthood. If I believe the case files and other disability-based assumptions about him, I will have incredibly low expectations for him, tend to talk him out of situations that put him at risk, attempt to steer him away from opportunities that seem above his skill level, and defer to his parents when there is a conflict. This would be a horrible disservice to Jon.

Rather than defaulting to these behaviors when the situation becomes complex, I go back to this ideal:

QuoteBecause I care about you, I can permit you to be autonomous and independent of my evaluations and restrictions. You are a separate person with your own feelings and opinions regarding what is right or wrong. The fact that I care for you does not mean that I must guide you in making choices, but that I can allow you to be yourself and to decide what is best for you. – Jess and Gregory Feist

 

It isn’t always easy to maintain this neutrality when I’m working with someone with a diagnosis that may make it difficult for them to make an informed choice. The whole picture becomes even more convoluted when you take into account that individuals with disabilities are often infantilized in just about every aspect of their lives. They need support from people for some things so they end up losing autonomy in everything. The incongruence in their experience of self and other’s expectations of them also muddies the water. How do you form a healthy self concept when people discuss “what’s wrong” with you so openly and so rarely highlight what’s right?

When I strip it all back to Roger’s ideals, it absolutely simplifies my role as a coach. I care, but I don’t decide. That’s Jon’s role, and, when appropriate, his parents, Kate and Dan, and their support system can help him make those choices.

 

Multicultural Considerations

Whether you want to consider multicultural factors or not – and regardless of the coach’s or client’s personal cultural heritage – it’s still there.

QuoteYou must accept the paradox that it is critical to consider race to get to the point where race does not matter. – Stewart Cooper

 

 

The best practice is to find a way to bring the issue up and address it from the beginning. Once I’ve broached the topic and we come to an understanding that it matters when it matters, but that race and culture aren’t the only factors in how our coaching work will go, I ask permission to bring it up when it seems relevant and encourage my clients to do the same.

 

The Disability Culture

In coaching individuals with disabilities, there is another culture at play beyond their ethnic or religious backgrounds. The culture of disability is a pervasive pressure on these individuals. From the moment of diagnosis, they’ve been told who they are and what they are able and, more often, not able to do by professionals who may know little about them. They’re often moved into segregated settings in school and live on the margins of their communities.

The goal of my practice is to reverse some of this damage and even highlight where a perceived disability is actually an asset. By inviting members of the broader community – students at their school, their pastor, the mayor, the fire chief – to participate in their PATH, I semi-subversively create interest in this individual as a fellow human.

 

The Payoff

Through our work, Jon now has allies who are not mired in the jargon of disability; he is seen as a competent member of his community. The varsity coach invites him to manage the team. The pastor asks him to speak to the congregation. Other students seek him out as a friend, not as a project. The fire chief offers him a job at one of the stations.

In short, Jon has the opportunity, as Tom Pomerantz would say, “to boldly go where everyone else has gone before.”

 

For folks who like to know more, here are the references from this series:

Brouwer, P. J. (1964). The power to see ourselves. Harvard Business Review, 42(6), 156-165.

Cooper, S., Wilson-Stark, K., Peterson, D. B., O’Roark, A. M., & Pennington, G. (2008). Consulting competently in multicultural contexts. Consulting Psychology Journal: Practice and Research, 60(2), 186-202.

Fiest, J. & Fiest, G. J. (2009). Theories of personality (7th Ed.). New York: McGraw Hill.

Helen Sanderson and Associates. (2007). Person centred thinking. Liberty, Missouri: HSA, USA.

Pearpoint, J., O’Brien, J., & Forest, M.  (1993). PATH: Planning possible positive futures. Inclusion Press:  Toronto.

Peterson, D. (1996). Executive coaching at work: The art of one-on-one change. Consulting Psychology Journal: Practice and Research, 48(2), 78-86.

Stern, L. (2004). Executive Coaching: A Working Definition. Consulting Psychology Journal: Practice and Research, 56(3), 154-162.

Stober, D. R. & Grant, A. M. (eds.) (2006). Evidence based coaching handbook: Putting the best practices to work for your clients. Hoboken, NJ: John Wiley & Sons, Inc.

Coaching Through Transition: Part VI : The Coaching


Over the course of several Tuesdays — Transition Tuesdays — I’m sharing one area of my practice that thrills me more than just about anything — coaching individuals with disabilities and their families as they transition from one life stage to another. Please note that while I’ll be describing a coaching scenario that is very similar to several families that I’ve worked with, it is an amalgamation of those conversations and is not based on any one family.

In Part I, I introduced you to Jon, Kate, and Dan and wrote a little about my approach to coaching families through the transition planning necessary to move students with disabilities from high school into an interdependent, adult life.

In Part II, I shared more about my role in working with Jon, Kate and Dan. I also talked some about what it means to be “humanistic” in coaching.

In Part III, I outlined the process and the steps I’m using to walk Jon and his parents through his transition. These steps form the structure for just about any coaching relationship.

In Part IV, we looked at the person-centered assessments I use during the Data Gathering portion of coaching a family through transition.

In Part V, we took a closer look at the PATH tool and discussed how delicious pie-in-the-sky dreaming can lead to some pretty delightful real-world results.

Today we’ll take a look at what happens after the PATH. As you may recall from Part III, now that we have some specific goals in place, the actual coaching begins!

Positive and Possible

Whether I use a PATH or some other method of goal setting and action planning with an individual and their circle, the reality is that pretty paper is truly only that. Pretty paper. The real work comes in creating a structure of implementation that is realistic and pointed forward. So, once the PATH or other planning process is completed, it is critical to take the lists of goals, action steps, and enrolled individuals willing to work toward those ends and put them into a format that lends itself to follow through.

Knowing this, I’ll work with Jon, Kate and Dan to put those plans into a grid that will keep everyone accountable to their promises. I’ll also make sure that whatever our “deliverables” are from the planning sessions are readily identifiable to Jon as his own. Sometimes that means including pictures or graphics in the documents. Sometimes it is printing it all on his favorite color of paper with his picture on the cover. The end result should be a set of documents that are Jon and family friendly, very usable, and which includes room for edits, annotations, and changes in the plan.

Coaching and Coordination

If the PATH identified needed resources or referrals – typically this involves financial planning, estate planning, accessing service systems offered through state and federal agencies, researching post-secondary options, locating support groups and leisure activity options, and connecting to the larger community – I will work with the family to locate those supports. It isn’t unusual for the family to collaborate with me over the course of several years – at times on a weekly basis, but typically transitioning to a quarterly conversation as needed for continued momentum and check-ins.

My role involves following up on promises, finding resources, encouraging forward momentum, and regularly checking the plan for applicability. In some cases, I’ve found it’s helpful to gather the circle together on a regular basis to check progress and update goals. In a long-term transition plan, such as Jon’s, it may even be necessary to facilitate a second PATH as he achieves his goals and as his interests continue to develop and change.

Removing the Bricks

The real payoff is when Jon takes a central role in directing the course of his own life. After years of waiting to be told by Kate and his teachers where to be and when to be there, he’s learning that he gets a real say in what he likes and how he wants his day to go. Kate is starting to relax a bit about having to be the one who knows all of the answers to questions about Jon. Now, Jon and Dan, along with other members of their circle, take on many of the tasks that Kate used to spend nights and weekends trying to stay ahead of. She expresses her relief most succinctly when she thanks me for “removing the bricks from her back.” I’m touched that she sees it this way, but the truth is that I didn’t actually remove anything; I just gave her permission to share the load.

Of course Jon sees it another way. “I like to be in charge and ask people for help. It’s better when they help me do stuff on my list because then we all get to be happy about it.”

In Part VII I’ll share a little about the ethical and multicultural considerations of coaching families through transitions.


For folks who like to know more, here are the references from this series:

Brouwer, P. J. (1964). The power to see ourselves. Harvard Business Review, 42(6), 156-165.

Helen Sanderson and Associates. (2007). Person centred thinking. Liberty, Missouri: HSA, USA.

Pearpoint, J., O’Brien, J., & Forest, M.  (1993). PATH: Planning possible positive futures. Inclusion Press:  Toronto.

Peterson, D. (1996). Executive coaching at work: The art of one-on-one change. Consulting Psychology Journal: Practice and Research, 48(2), 78-86.

Stern, L. (2004). Executive Coaching: A Working Definition. Consulting Psychology Journal: Practice and Research, 56(3), 154-162.

Stober, D. R. & Grant, A. M. (eds.) (2006). Evidence based coaching handbook: Putting the best practices to work for your clients. Hoboken, NJ: John Wiley & Sons, Inc.

 

Coaching through Transition: Part V

Over the course of several Tuesdays — Transition Tuesdays — I’m sharing one area of my practice that thrills me more than just about anything — coaching individuals with disabilities and their families as they transition from one life stage to another. Please note that while I’ll be describing a coaching scenario that is very similar to several families that I’ve worked with, it is an amalgamation of those conversations and is not based on any one family.

In Part I, I introduced you to Jon, Kate, and Dan and wrote a little about my approach to coaching families through the transition planning necessary to move students with disabilities from high school into an interdependent, adult life.

In Part II, I shared more about my role in working with Jon, Kate and Dan. I also talked some about what it means to be “humanistic” in coaching.

In Part III, I outlined the process and the steps I’m using to walk Jon and his parents through his transition. These steps form the structure for just about any coaching relationship.

In Part IV, we looked at the person-centered assessments I use during the Data Gathering portion of coaching a family through transition.

Today, we’re taking a closer look at the PATH tool and discuss how delicious pie-in-the-sky dreaming can lead to some pretty delightful real-world results.

 

Co-Creating Goals

Whether working with an individual, an organization or a family in transition, the role of a coach is similar. However the style may vary.

QuoteIn more personal coaching, the aim is often to help clients flesh out their vision of their ideal existence and then develop and enact steps toward that ideal. But it is not up to the coach to direct the content of that ideal; rather, the coach is there to help the client fully describe it and design steps to take them toward it.

Stober & Grant

One person-centered tool for creating the space for these conversations is the PATH (Planning Alternative Tomorrows with Hope) tool designed by Marsha Forest, Jack Pearpoint, and John O’Brien. The PATH tool was originally used to help folks move from institutional life to community life – not always a move supported by the paperwork and professionals and funding that typically follow this population.

The PATH process involves two extensively-trained individuals graphically facilitating a group through a four-hour conversation encompassing what strategic planners would recognize as a team-based visioning and action-planning session. It also involves a massive sheet of paper (often 4 feet high and nearly 15 feet long!) and colorful markers (I prefer the “smelly” ones). Everyone who gathers is involved in the conversation by one facilitator while a second facilitator draws, scribes, and doodles a record of the discussion billboard style.

I also try to encourage folks to host a meal or snack break in the middle. We all like to eat!

The PATH conversation begins with a vision or the North Star image of what life can look like in a no-holds-barred dream existence. Then the facilitators bring the group back into a “positive and possible” vision of the future. Successive steps involve identifying the realities of now, setting goals for a year down the road, enrolling participants in the next steps and assigning follow up tasks. At each stage the facilitators check in with the group and most especially with the individual in question – in our scenario, Jon – in order to identify how they are feeling, what needs to be adjusted, and that the ideas being captured accurately reflect the goals and hopes of Jon and his circle.

This type of facilitated conversation is steeped in positive psychology. Looking at desired outcomes with “no holds barred” and working back into a “positive and possible” set of stretch goals allow the circle to dream with one foot in reality. Jon and his parents will invite the people who care about Jon – his teachers, friends, church members, pastor, grandparents, cousins, aunts and uncles – to gather for the PATH. Based on the information that has been gathered through the private sessions with Jon and his parents I have some idea of where the family would like to focus their attention – namely Jon’s transition from high school into adulthood – and the kinds of things that help Jon have good days. During the PATH, I will facilitate the group’s establishing a clear vision of where Jon will be in 5 years – the anticipated length of this transition process – and what it will take to get him there.

Based on our earlier conversations, I anticipate Kate’s hesitation on Jon’s bigger dreams – moving out on his own and getting a job – while recognizing that the dynamics of creating a circle of support will gently shift Kate’s role from that of mother and protector to that of ally and supporter. I also anticipate some hesitation from Dan in joining into the conversation. The typical – though not universal – scenario is that Kate has taken on the default role of advocating for Jon while Dan watches from the sidelines.

The trick to changing this dynamic is to put the focus back on Jon. In similar situations, individuals have declared their mom as their “ex-mom who is my friend” or have thwarted their mom’s intention to have them live in the same home forever by suggesting that they, “live a polite distance away” and have drawn their dad into the conversation by declaring that they want to spend time “doing swimming with Dad because he lets me go deep.” Emboldened by the attention and support of the circle, seeing their words appear on the large paper, and given the space to express what they really want, individuals with disabilities have an amazing ability to cut to what really matters to them and to get folks on board.

My job is to facilitate the pace of the conversation, to prevent any one individual from taking over or becoming the Voice of No, and to maintain a space of respect and positive regard. The whole process requires mindfulness and self-control on the part of the coach. I have strong beliefs regarding the rights of my clients, but must maintain a neutral stance as I guide the circle to their own conclusions.

At the end of the PATH process, we will have a massive 10-15’ long wall chart outlining Jon and his circle’s dream for him, a possible and positive vision of where he will be in 5 years, a snapshot of his current reality, a list of the folks who are willing to enroll in helping him achieve his goals, a set of concrete next steps for getting the whole plan moving forward, and consensus on what will keep this group strong and focused on supporting Jon along the way.

 

In Part VI we’ll take a look at what happens after the PATH. As you may recall from Part III, now that we have some specific goals in place, the actual coaching begins!


For folks who like to know more, here are the references from this series:

Brouwer, P. J. (1964). The power to see ourselves. Harvard Business Review, 42(6), 156-165.

Helen Sanderson and Associates. (2007). Person centred thinking. Liberty, Missouri: HSA, USA.

Pearpoint, J., O’Brien, J., & Forest, M.  (1993). PATH: Planning possible positive futures. Inclusion Press:  Toronto.

Peterson, D. (1996). Executive coaching at work: The art of one-on-one change. Consulting Psychology Journal: Practice and Research, 48(2), 78-86.

Stern, L. (2004). Executive Coaching: A Working Definition. Consulting Psychology Journal: Practice and Research, 56(3), 154-162.

Stober, D. R. & Grant, A. M. (eds.) (2006). Evidence based coaching handbook: Putting the best practices to work for your clients. Hoboken, NJ: John Wiley & Sons, Inc.

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