From Tina Cruz, a Fullerton writer who has two children on the spectrum:
1. Ask questions about things you are interested in. Get him to talk about what you want… lead the conversation. If he starts in on Indiana Jones, change the subject…make it something related. “Yes, Indy was a really cool movie, but what did you think of Wall-E?” “Really? What did you like about it?” If you steer the conversation, it will go more smoothly.
2. Bring someone else into the conversation, and throw my son a bone…er, rather, a thread of conversation that he and the other person has in common. Once he is talking to the other person, escape! Yes, I am mostly kidding with this one! Besides, he would just catch you…
3. Be HONEST. Just tell him you can’t talk about that right now. That you are busy, maybe later you can discuss it. He probably won’t be hurt by it, he will appreciate your candor. But if you tell him this, know he has the memory of an elephant and long after you have forgotten? He will find you.
4. Play a game. I Spy, “I’m Thinking of a Word…” “When I Go To the Moon I’m Bringing…” these are all good choices. But don’t be surprised if he kicks your butt. The kid has an amazing attention to detail and his memory will blow you away.
5. Engage in an activity you both enjoy. Go to a ball game. Do a craft. Find time for one-on-one. Just know we are working on good sportsmanship to board games and video games…win or lose, he will shake your hand and say, “Good game!” Be prepared.
6. If all else fails, shoot me a look. I will rescue you both. Under no circumstances be unkind to him…he will remember it. You may not get a second chance.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Monday, March 9, 2009
Virtual world teaches real-world skills
Game helps people with Asperger's practice socializing
If home is where the heart is, then home for a dozen people with Asperger Syndrome could be a 16-acre island blessed with lush gardens and rolling green hills.
The island is called "Brigadoon," but unlike its literary namesake, this place is real — or real enough in a 21st century way. "Brigadoon" belongs to a public virtual world called "Second Life," a popular online 3-D environment frequented by tens of thousands of users.
If home is where the heart is, then home for a dozen people with Asperger Syndrome could be a 16-acre island blessed with lush gardens and rolling green hills.
The island is called "Brigadoon," but unlike its literary namesake, this place is real — or real enough in a 21st century way. "Brigadoon" belongs to a public virtual world called "Second Life," a popular online 3-D environment frequented by tens of thousands of users.
Story continues below ↓advertisement | your ad here
"Brigadoon" is a real-world experiment in social skills made virtual, a private enclave limited to a select mixture of caregivers and individuals with Asperger Syndrome, a higher functioning form of autism. The inhabitants, or "Dooners" as they call themselves, enjoy the same privileges as those in the more public arenas of "Second Life." They are free to create their own digital representations of themselves, called "avatars," build virtual houses and seek out friends. And, most importantly, they are free to create a "second life" with a level of social interaction that, for reasons of their condition, has been hard to come by in their real lives.
Is gaming a good thing?
Talk of video gaming can set off feelings of unease among parents — no one wants a kid to be glued to a screen for hours on end. But the stakes for children with Asperger's and other autism spectrum disorders — who have difficulties with social interaction — tend to be higher.
At issue is the importance of developing enriching personal relationships and becoming a part of society. While video games can be educational and entertaining, their reputation as a solitary activity can present an impediment to progress for people with autistic disorders by limiting their exposure to social situations.
Researchers are also concerned that playing video games could simply become one of the many repetitive activities that an affected child engages in.
"One feature that highlights the risk of video games is that the behavior of children with autism can be repetitive. They like sameness and routine," says Sally Ozonoff, an associate professor of psychiatry at the MIND Institute at the University of California, Davis. This preference for repetition and familiarity often limits their experiences and prevents them from learning how to adapt to new situations.
But if used correctly, video game technology could be beneficial. "Children with autism have a natural inclination to video games and television," Ozonoff adds. "The goal is to try to exploit that inclination therapeutically."
New technology in the works
Researchers around the world are now attempting to do just that. At the University of Victoria in British Columbia, cognitive psychologist James Tanaka is using a custom-built game called "Let's Face It!" to teach facial recognition. Actually a suite of mini-games, the program uses photos, sounds and positive feedback as part of a scoring system to encourage kids with autism to learn.
"You can have kids do an exercise, but they usually don't have the richness or the continuity [of the video game]," says Tanaka.
Meanwhile, researchers at the University of Edinburgh and Glasgow Caledonian University are creating video games to study cognitive skills in children with autism using a revolutionary interface: gesture recognition software that registers the players' movements and transfers them to the screen.
"From my work, I know that a lot of children [with autism] have production skills we never would expect," says Maggie McGonigle, leader of the project and an expert on non-verbal communication. "So I'm hoping that language-like skills are locked up in their brain even if they can't speak."
But in the small world of video games with real-life applications for people with autistic disorders, "Brigadoon" stands out.
When "Brigadoon" founder John Lester, an information systems director at Massachusetts General Hospital and research associate at Harvard Medical School, discovered the virtual world "Second Life," one of the first things that came to mind was how he could share the experience.
A decade earlier, Lester had founded Braintalk Communities, a self-help support site dedicated to neurological conditions. "I'm big on creating spaces where patients and caregivers can share experiences and emotional support and essentially help themselves," he says.
"Second Life" was different. Although not exactly a game, it was rooted in 21st century game technology. In gaming parlance, "Second Life" was "immersive," a world that's both three-dimensional (think "Halo 2") and "persistent," meaning the world is always up and running.
"A lot of what's happening in 'Second Life' is social," says Lester. "And I thought that this could be a fantastic place for people dealing with Asperger Syndrome. Give them a simulated environment and let them practice social skills in a three-dimensional space."
Individuals with Asperger's usually aren't comfortable in social situations, but many display an innate understanding of computer technology. These two factors — social deficiencies and computer knowledge — made them perfect candidates to test "Brigadoon."
Last year Lester purchased a virtual island in "Second Life," invited participants from Braintalk Communities to establish a claim, and in July 2004, "Brigadoon" was launched.
Although virtual, it's possible to explore "Brigadoon" like a real-world island. On a recent personal tour, Lester and "Brigadoon" resident Jamison Read, a mother of a son with Asperger's, showed off the sights.
The tour began inside the Temple of Zeus, a meeting place positioned at the top of "Brigadoon's" highest hill. There are meeting places throughout the island — precisely the type of spaces that individuals with Asperger's would avoid in the real world.
"That's what most of the spaces around "Brigadoon" are focused on," says Lester.
The tour led to a valley and past an aquarium inhabited by a jumping shark created by an individual with Asperger's who goes by the online name of Coos Yellowknife. Nearby, a virtual screen mixed snapshots of past "Brigadoon" social events, like a virtual lobster dinner, with photos from the real-world.
"People with Asperger Syndrome get pretty 'beat up' by society," says Read. "Here they can go at their own pace and move into the mainstream."
Read originally joined "Brigadoon" to discover if the game would help her son who has Asperger's. He is still figuring out if he wants to join, but for Read there was something about "Brigadoon" — its whimsy, the ability to be creative with colorful virtual gardens and homes, and its reputation as a safe haven — that compelled her to stay.
"I have learned a lot about [Asperger Syndrome] from the adults here, so I am trying to help my son counter some of the problems he will have as an adult," she says.
"Brigadoon" is still an experiment. It is small in size — just 16-acres if the island existed in the real world — as well as in population. The world may be rich in color, but communication is limited to instant text messaging. When compared to the $10 billion video game industry, "Brigadoon" and its host world "Second Life" register as a mere blip on the radar.
But in a field where the quest to lead an enriching and "normal" life is measured by even the smallest steps, "Brigadoon" may be a sign of how video game technology can be used for good.
Lester is already convinced. "[The inhabitants] have learned a lot about themselves in how they socialize and they've gained confidence," he says.
And, as the "Dooner" named Coos wrote in a "Brigadoon" blog, "We are aliens in this RL [real world]. SL ['Second Life'] has showed me it is OK to be an alien in a strange new world!"
If home is where the heart is, then home for a dozen people with Asperger Syndrome could be a 16-acre island blessed with lush gardens and rolling green hills.
The island is called "Brigadoon," but unlike its literary namesake, this place is real — or real enough in a 21st century way. "Brigadoon" belongs to a public virtual world called "Second Life," a popular online 3-D environment frequented by tens of thousands of users.
If home is where the heart is, then home for a dozen people with Asperger Syndrome could be a 16-acre island blessed with lush gardens and rolling green hills.
The island is called "Brigadoon," but unlike its literary namesake, this place is real — or real enough in a 21st century way. "Brigadoon" belongs to a public virtual world called "Second Life," a popular online 3-D environment frequented by tens of thousands of users.
Story continues below ↓advertisement | your ad here
"Brigadoon" is a real-world experiment in social skills made virtual, a private enclave limited to a select mixture of caregivers and individuals with Asperger Syndrome, a higher functioning form of autism. The inhabitants, or "Dooners" as they call themselves, enjoy the same privileges as those in the more public arenas of "Second Life." They are free to create their own digital representations of themselves, called "avatars," build virtual houses and seek out friends. And, most importantly, they are free to create a "second life" with a level of social interaction that, for reasons of their condition, has been hard to come by in their real lives.
Is gaming a good thing?
Talk of video gaming can set off feelings of unease among parents — no one wants a kid to be glued to a screen for hours on end. But the stakes for children with Asperger's and other autism spectrum disorders — who have difficulties with social interaction — tend to be higher.
At issue is the importance of developing enriching personal relationships and becoming a part of society. While video games can be educational and entertaining, their reputation as a solitary activity can present an impediment to progress for people with autistic disorders by limiting their exposure to social situations.
Researchers are also concerned that playing video games could simply become one of the many repetitive activities that an affected child engages in.
"One feature that highlights the risk of video games is that the behavior of children with autism can be repetitive. They like sameness and routine," says Sally Ozonoff, an associate professor of psychiatry at the MIND Institute at the University of California, Davis. This preference for repetition and familiarity often limits their experiences and prevents them from learning how to adapt to new situations.
But if used correctly, video game technology could be beneficial. "Children with autism have a natural inclination to video games and television," Ozonoff adds. "The goal is to try to exploit that inclination therapeutically."
New technology in the works
Researchers around the world are now attempting to do just that. At the University of Victoria in British Columbia, cognitive psychologist James Tanaka is using a custom-built game called "Let's Face It!" to teach facial recognition. Actually a suite of mini-games, the program uses photos, sounds and positive feedback as part of a scoring system to encourage kids with autism to learn.
"You can have kids do an exercise, but they usually don't have the richness or the continuity [of the video game]," says Tanaka.
Meanwhile, researchers at the University of Edinburgh and Glasgow Caledonian University are creating video games to study cognitive skills in children with autism using a revolutionary interface: gesture recognition software that registers the players' movements and transfers them to the screen.
"From my work, I know that a lot of children [with autism] have production skills we never would expect," says Maggie McGonigle, leader of the project and an expert on non-verbal communication. "So I'm hoping that language-like skills are locked up in their brain even if they can't speak."
But in the small world of video games with real-life applications for people with autistic disorders, "Brigadoon" stands out.
When "Brigadoon" founder John Lester, an information systems director at Massachusetts General Hospital and research associate at Harvard Medical School, discovered the virtual world "Second Life," one of the first things that came to mind was how he could share the experience.
A decade earlier, Lester had founded Braintalk Communities, a self-help support site dedicated to neurological conditions. "I'm big on creating spaces where patients and caregivers can share experiences and emotional support and essentially help themselves," he says.
"Second Life" was different. Although not exactly a game, it was rooted in 21st century game technology. In gaming parlance, "Second Life" was "immersive," a world that's both three-dimensional (think "Halo 2") and "persistent," meaning the world is always up and running.
"A lot of what's happening in 'Second Life' is social," says Lester. "And I thought that this could be a fantastic place for people dealing with Asperger Syndrome. Give them a simulated environment and let them practice social skills in a three-dimensional space."
Individuals with Asperger's usually aren't comfortable in social situations, but many display an innate understanding of computer technology. These two factors — social deficiencies and computer knowledge — made them perfect candidates to test "Brigadoon."
Last year Lester purchased a virtual island in "Second Life," invited participants from Braintalk Communities to establish a claim, and in July 2004, "Brigadoon" was launched.
Although virtual, it's possible to explore "Brigadoon" like a real-world island. On a recent personal tour, Lester and "Brigadoon" resident Jamison Read, a mother of a son with Asperger's, showed off the sights.
The tour began inside the Temple of Zeus, a meeting place positioned at the top of "Brigadoon's" highest hill. There are meeting places throughout the island — precisely the type of spaces that individuals with Asperger's would avoid in the real world.
"That's what most of the spaces around "Brigadoon" are focused on," says Lester.
The tour led to a valley and past an aquarium inhabited by a jumping shark created by an individual with Asperger's who goes by the online name of Coos Yellowknife. Nearby, a virtual screen mixed snapshots of past "Brigadoon" social events, like a virtual lobster dinner, with photos from the real-world.
"People with Asperger Syndrome get pretty 'beat up' by society," says Read. "Here they can go at their own pace and move into the mainstream."
Read originally joined "Brigadoon" to discover if the game would help her son who has Asperger's. He is still figuring out if he wants to join, but for Read there was something about "Brigadoon" — its whimsy, the ability to be creative with colorful virtual gardens and homes, and its reputation as a safe haven — that compelled her to stay.
"I have learned a lot about [Asperger Syndrome] from the adults here, so I am trying to help my son counter some of the problems he will have as an adult," she says.
"Brigadoon" is still an experiment. It is small in size — just 16-acres if the island existed in the real world — as well as in population. The world may be rich in color, but communication is limited to instant text messaging. When compared to the $10 billion video game industry, "Brigadoon" and its host world "Second Life" register as a mere blip on the radar.
But in a field where the quest to lead an enriching and "normal" life is measured by even the smallest steps, "Brigadoon" may be a sign of how video game technology can be used for good.
Lester is already convinced. "[The inhabitants] have learned a lot about themselves in how they socialize and they've gained confidence," he says.
And, as the "Dooner" named Coos wrote in a "Brigadoon" blog, "We are aliens in this RL [real world]. SL ['Second Life'] has showed me it is OK to be an alien in a strange new world!"
Friday, February 27, 2009
Friendship House Autism Center plans announced
Muted lighting, soft colors and quiet plumbing — what sounds like interior options for a spa actually will be a carefully calibrated environment for autistic children.
“A lot of children with autism have issues with hypersensitivity, whether it’s a light flicker or the swish of a flushed toilet,” said architect Brian Doran, who conducted research and consulted behavior therapists for a modern vision in designing Friendship House’s $1.4 million Northeast Regional Autism Center expansion.
Friendship House officials on Thursday announced the 14,000-square-foot project, expected to begin in March, with a display of architectural renderings and a short tour of the proposed site, a former warehouse at Friendship House’s Maple Street offices.
Mr. Doran, with the Scran�ton design firm Hemmler & Camayd, also is the father of a mildly autistic child.
“We’re trying to create the right environment for therapists to execute their work,” he said.
Friendship House’s existing autistic program treats 60 children 2 to 21 years old at a building two blocks away on Derby Avenue. The expansion will move the program to Maple Street after the project’s expected completion in October.
According to the National Institute of Neurological Disorders and Stroke, autism is a condition in a group of developmental disorders characterized by impaired social interaction, verbal and nonverbal communication problems and limited activities or interests. It is estimated three to six children of every 1,000 will have autism, and boys are four times more likely to have autism than girls, the institute said.
“A lot of children with autism have issues with hypersensitivity, whether it’s a light flicker or the swish of a flushed toilet,” said architect Brian Doran, who conducted research and consulted behavior therapists for a modern vision in designing Friendship House’s $1.4 million Northeast Regional Autism Center expansion.
Friendship House officials on Thursday announced the 14,000-square-foot project, expected to begin in March, with a display of architectural renderings and a short tour of the proposed site, a former warehouse at Friendship House’s Maple Street offices.
Mr. Doran, with the Scran�ton design firm Hemmler & Camayd, also is the father of a mildly autistic child.
“We’re trying to create the right environment for therapists to execute their work,” he said.
Friendship House’s existing autistic program treats 60 children 2 to 21 years old at a building two blocks away on Derby Avenue. The expansion will move the program to Maple Street after the project’s expected completion in October.
According to the National Institute of Neurological Disorders and Stroke, autism is a condition in a group of developmental disorders characterized by impaired social interaction, verbal and nonverbal communication problems and limited activities or interests. It is estimated three to six children of every 1,000 will have autism, and boys are four times more likely to have autism than girls, the institute said.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Teaching Kids With Autism The Art Of Conversation
Math and numbers are easy for 10-year-old Alex Lee. He can tell you what pi is out to 100 digits.
But Alex doesn't do so well with chitchat. On a late fall day, he meets with psychologist Brian Freedman.
Alex asks Freedman if he knows how to play the piano.
Freedman starts to reply that the two weren't having a conversation about pianos, but Alex interrupts him: "What instrument do you play?"
"Hang on," Freedman repeats, "were we talking about me playing the piano?"
"No."
"What were we talking about?" Freedman asks again.
"What instrument do you play?" Alex continues.
"Were we talking about me playing instruments?" says Freedman.
Finally, Alex replies, "No."
"No," Freedman agrees.
Social Studies
For children like Alex with autism, social interactions are a struggle. But Freedman is part of a team of researchers at Baltimore's Kennedy Krieger Institute that has developed a course to help these kids improve their social skills. The program is called Building Up Development of Socialization, or BUDS.
Alex says he is doing better than he used to since starting the program several months ago.
"I had a perfect week last week," he tells Freedman. "I was never going into the red zone." That refers to a number of behaviors that get Alex in trouble.
Alex and several other children with mild autism have been meeting every week with Freedman and autism specialist Elizabeth Stripling. The idea is to teach the social skills that most kids pick up without even thinking about it.
Freedman says the gap between kids with autism and other kids isn't so wide when they're in kindergarten. But after that it can become a chasm.
The kids in Alex's group are between 10 and 12 years old. "They're starting to move toward middle school," says Freedman, "and the social rules are changing all around them, and so it's incredibly hard for them to keep up. So that's why we need to have a group like this."
Conversation 101
During the sessions, Freedman and Stripling give pointers on how to do things as basic as keeping a conversation going.
For instance, they're told, if someone says he likes music, ask what kind of music. Freedman and Stripling remind the kids to make eye contact and listen when someone else is talking.
Freedman says it's all about coaching and practice, not just rules.
"One of the problems that kids with autism can run into is that when they're taught very rigid rules, they only stick to those rules," Freedman explains. "So we try to help them understand some nuances within interaction."
On this November afternoon, only two boys have shown up, Alex and another 10-year-old, named Joseph Santana.
A few minutes into the session, Joseph says he wants to talk about something that happened to him. Freedman and Stripling help Alex respond appropriately.
"On Sunday, I went to the emergency room," Joseph says.
"Oh, my gosh," Freedman replies.
"Because I couldn't breathe," Joseph continues.
Stripling jumps in: "Oh, my goodness!"
Then Alex takes their cue, "Were you dying or what? So sorry to hear that."
Freedman praises Alex for picking up the conversation and asks him what other questions might be appropriate to ask Joseph about his trip to the ER.
It's not completely spontaneous or natural. But Freedman says the conversation shows how far Alex has come. He is clearly listening, and his responses even suggest empathy.
And for Joseph, just telling the story is a big achievement. He has trouble communicating with other kids. But he has been trying hard with the children he's met in these sessions.
Freedman says the first thing Joseph did after getting out of the hospital was send an e-mail to the entire group.
"The e-mail wasn't just to check in and say hi, but it provided context to say that something had happened to him," Freedman says. "The next sentence was followed by, 'I'm OK.' And all of that was followed up by emoticons that showed the feelings that went along with that. So I would say especially for a kid like Joseph, that was tremendous progress."
Joseph grew up loving The History Channel, but hating school.
"Kids would pick on him, beat him up. You know, they were really not very kind to him at all," says his mother, Kathleen Santana.
When kids at school handed out invitations to birthday parties, Joseph never received any.
"In the beginning he just wasn't aware," Kathleen Santana says. "But now that he is getting older and learning more that that is happening, he is becoming more aware, and I think that is a hurtful situation for him."
Eventually, Santana decided to teach Joseph at home.
Alex has been doing OK at school. But his father, Hugh Lee, says his son is lonely.
"He wants to make friends with other kids. I think it's just a disability in him that he doesn't know how to," says Lee.
Final Exam
After many weeks of practice, Alex and Joseph are getting ready for a kind of final exam — at the Baltimore aquarium.
The boys spend a December afternoon at the Australia exhibit, checking out animals and asking each other questions about what they're seeing and what the animals are doing.
Their parents, meanwhile, are awarding points when the boys do well and taking points away when they don't.
At the end of the visit, the scores are tallied. Alex is told that he gets a lot of points for initiating conversations. But he also has a few deducted.
This is the sort of conversation Alex likes. It's about numbers.
"OK, so 18 minus 3 equals 15. So I have more than 10, and I have exactly 15. So a large prize," Alex happily says.
For kids like Alex, the stakes are high. They're more than smart enough to go to college, find jobs and live on their own.
But Freedman says his goal is to make sure they acquire the social skills to accomplish those things.
But Alex doesn't do so well with chitchat. On a late fall day, he meets with psychologist Brian Freedman.
Alex asks Freedman if he knows how to play the piano.
Freedman starts to reply that the two weren't having a conversation about pianos, but Alex interrupts him: "What instrument do you play?"
"Hang on," Freedman repeats, "were we talking about me playing the piano?"
"No."
"What were we talking about?" Freedman asks again.
"What instrument do you play?" Alex continues.
"Were we talking about me playing instruments?" says Freedman.
Finally, Alex replies, "No."
"No," Freedman agrees.
Social Studies
For children like Alex with autism, social interactions are a struggle. But Freedman is part of a team of researchers at Baltimore's Kennedy Krieger Institute that has developed a course to help these kids improve their social skills. The program is called Building Up Development of Socialization, or BUDS.
Alex says he is doing better than he used to since starting the program several months ago.
"I had a perfect week last week," he tells Freedman. "I was never going into the red zone." That refers to a number of behaviors that get Alex in trouble.
Alex and several other children with mild autism have been meeting every week with Freedman and autism specialist Elizabeth Stripling. The idea is to teach the social skills that most kids pick up without even thinking about it.
Freedman says the gap between kids with autism and other kids isn't so wide when they're in kindergarten. But after that it can become a chasm.
The kids in Alex's group are between 10 and 12 years old. "They're starting to move toward middle school," says Freedman, "and the social rules are changing all around them, and so it's incredibly hard for them to keep up. So that's why we need to have a group like this."
Conversation 101
During the sessions, Freedman and Stripling give pointers on how to do things as basic as keeping a conversation going.
For instance, they're told, if someone says he likes music, ask what kind of music. Freedman and Stripling remind the kids to make eye contact and listen when someone else is talking.
Freedman says it's all about coaching and practice, not just rules.
"One of the problems that kids with autism can run into is that when they're taught very rigid rules, they only stick to those rules," Freedman explains. "So we try to help them understand some nuances within interaction."
On this November afternoon, only two boys have shown up, Alex and another 10-year-old, named Joseph Santana.
A few minutes into the session, Joseph says he wants to talk about something that happened to him. Freedman and Stripling help Alex respond appropriately.
"On Sunday, I went to the emergency room," Joseph says.
"Oh, my gosh," Freedman replies.
"Because I couldn't breathe," Joseph continues.
Stripling jumps in: "Oh, my goodness!"
Then Alex takes their cue, "Were you dying or what? So sorry to hear that."
Freedman praises Alex for picking up the conversation and asks him what other questions might be appropriate to ask Joseph about his trip to the ER.
It's not completely spontaneous or natural. But Freedman says the conversation shows how far Alex has come. He is clearly listening, and his responses even suggest empathy.
And for Joseph, just telling the story is a big achievement. He has trouble communicating with other kids. But he has been trying hard with the children he's met in these sessions.
Freedman says the first thing Joseph did after getting out of the hospital was send an e-mail to the entire group.
"The e-mail wasn't just to check in and say hi, but it provided context to say that something had happened to him," Freedman says. "The next sentence was followed by, 'I'm OK.' And all of that was followed up by emoticons that showed the feelings that went along with that. So I would say especially for a kid like Joseph, that was tremendous progress."
Joseph grew up loving The History Channel, but hating school.
"Kids would pick on him, beat him up. You know, they were really not very kind to him at all," says his mother, Kathleen Santana.
When kids at school handed out invitations to birthday parties, Joseph never received any.
"In the beginning he just wasn't aware," Kathleen Santana says. "But now that he is getting older and learning more that that is happening, he is becoming more aware, and I think that is a hurtful situation for him."
Eventually, Santana decided to teach Joseph at home.
Alex has been doing OK at school. But his father, Hugh Lee, says his son is lonely.
"He wants to make friends with other kids. I think it's just a disability in him that he doesn't know how to," says Lee.
Final Exam
After many weeks of practice, Alex and Joseph are getting ready for a kind of final exam — at the Baltimore aquarium.
The boys spend a December afternoon at the Australia exhibit, checking out animals and asking each other questions about what they're seeing and what the animals are doing.
Their parents, meanwhile, are awarding points when the boys do well and taking points away when they don't.
At the end of the visit, the scores are tallied. Alex is told that he gets a lot of points for initiating conversations. But he also has a few deducted.
This is the sort of conversation Alex likes. It's about numbers.
"OK, so 18 minus 3 equals 15. So I have more than 10, and I have exactly 15. So a large prize," Alex happily says.
For kids like Alex, the stakes are high. They're more than smart enough to go to college, find jobs and live on their own.
But Freedman says his goal is to make sure they acquire the social skills to accomplish those things.
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