MSI Press Blog

  Some lessons children learn on their own. Others they learn from siblings. And then there are the lessons they learn that you wish—deeply, fervently—they had not. When Shane was ten, he and Donny decided they were going to hike the Appalachian Trail. Not talk about it. Not dream about it. Actually do it . And they did—more than a thousand miles of it, step by determined step. Doah, eight years old but developmentally closer to four, was enthralled by the entire enterprise. He watched the preparatory hikes every morning as Donny and Shane marched up and down the little knolls behind our home in Arlington, Virginia. He helped select and mail the care packages of freeze‑dried food to the post offices along their route. He listened to Shane’s journal entries with rapt attention. But what fascinated him most was not the gear, the miles, or the adventure. It was the bathroom logistics. When he learned that hikers simply “pee in the trees,” something lit up inside him. This, apparently,...

  In 1980, I fell down a flight of stairs. The day started out normally enough. Breakfast over, Donnie departed for work, and school lunches prepared, the kids and I were ready to take on the day, as usual. Lizzie had skipped off to her fourth grade class a few blocks from home. Three-year-old Noelle, dressed in a pretty pink dress and her blond hair tied up into two ponytails   with matching pink ribbons was tucked away in the back of our orange Pacer, where she could sit comfortably with her legs stretched out. (Those were days before the invention of seat belts.) Two-year-old Shane was seated on the outside stairs, waiting for me to bring out Doah, in his carrier, along with his suction machine for his trach tube. Doah was on the sofa, next to his suction machine. Everything and everyone in place – except that Shane needed a pair of socks. I quickly scooted down the basement stairs in search of clean socks that should have been on top of the dryer. And the, oops, I slippe...

  Shane has always been a good self-advocate. Perhaps because he sees the world differently from others--as a matter of logic, which disconcerts those who would argue with him because they live in the larger illogical world. Fourth grade, fifth grade, seventh grade, eighth grade...nearly every year he had an opportunity not only to outthink his parents (that was a given) but also to outlogic his teachers.  Fourth grade was quite a year for him. He managed to frustrate his teacher on a regular basis. For example, he refused to do his homework, yet he would use math (algebra) to figure out how to lower our electric bill, and he would absorb himself in reading fiction typically assigned in high school and college classes. Though he was only 7 (remember, he began first grade at the age of 3), he considered his time valuable and did not to waste it on silliness or things he already knew. The teacher complained and complained and complained that her would not do his homework. I aske...