Have you ever raised caterpillars? I’m thinking of the ones that you order by mail. Baby painted lady caterpillars arrive in a cup with breathing holes punched into the lid. There’s some kind of brown gunk the consistency of peanut butter at the bottom of the cup for the caterpillars to eat. It’s a one-stop-shop: they eat their artificial brown gunk, gain nutrients, grow big, and then weave their chrysalides to metamorphose into butterflies. Not exactly Eric Carle material, but it works.
If you toss some thistle in there, the caterpillars will crawl over to check it out. The mail order babies haven’t been exposed to it before, but Painted Lady Caterpillars love thistle so they’re in for a surprise. It’s what they were born to feast upon. Just make sure you have plenty, because once the little munchers get a taste, they realize the peanut butter stuff met their needs but is total crap in comparison. Really. They’re like, “nope.” If they find the good stuff they were wired for, they might starve rather than eat the brown goo again.
I think I understand the feeling. I was sustained by brown goo for years. I maintained unbalanced relationships. I chose group expectations over my sensory needs. I overstayed my time in crowded places, straining to follow conversations while pasting a casual smile across my face. I wore jeans with itchy seams and ignored the blast of music that was way too loud. I powered through my undiagnosed ADHD. I accepted that part of me was unseen. I seemed to learn that it was okay to feel uncomfortable and distressed, as long as everyone else in the room was fine.
Thistle was sprinkled in as I began to learn about my children’s learning differences, giftedness and how those color their experience of and interaction with the world. This resonated with my own lived experience. Covid hit. We were all home, in the quiet, in our comfy pajamas. It was a detox of sorts. And I came out of it discovering that I didn’t enjoy intense crowds, loud, invasive sounds or itchy seams. I read, Living with Intensity and Ungifted. I felt seen. I performed before, but once I tasted the freedom of understanding and honoring my needs, I might just go hungry rather than eat brown goo again. There’s no going back.
Have you heard some of these? Or, maybe you have heard people say them about somebody, since they’re more the kinda thing you say behind someone’s back~
You’re spoiling your kid.
They’re picky because you let them get away with it.
Your child is never going to get better if you don’t make them X.
Can we over-accommodate? Absolutely! But if you see an increase in sensitivity or a stronger reliance on an accommodation once it’s in place, that alone isn’t proof that the individual is being spoiled or “snowflaked.” It can also mean that they are experiencing the sensation of a “just-right” fit. They’ve traded brown goo for thistle, and there’s no going back.
Let me give you another example. I was getting headaches for weeks. I was due for my annual vision exam, and it turned out there was a good reason for the headaches. I’d experienced the “I’m over 40” shift in vision, and my eyes were working super hard for me to compensate. The optometrist prescribed me new, “all-the-time” glasses. She warned me that that after a week of wearing the glasses with this kind of new prescription, a lot of people notice their vision is even worse than before when they aren’t wearing their glasses. She said, “your eyesight when you take off the glasses will seem more blurry. But, your vision isn’t getting worse. It’s that your eyes have working intensely hard all the time to allow you to see. And finally, your eye muscles are going to rest. They will no longer be overworking to allow you to read and function. And, you’ll notice the difference more when your eyes have adjusted to a healthy resting state.”
Rather than spoiling my eyes, glasses are actually supporting my eyesight and alleviating my headaches. But now that I have appropriate glasses, I really notice the difference and want to wear them all the time. It would be awful to go back to squinting through tired eyes. There are accommodations out there that are equivalent to glasses. They simply allow appropriate access to the world and a child’s body no longer has to work overtime constantly. The child will miss the accommodation if it’s gone, but that isn’t proof of further decline. It’s evidence that the accommodation is doing is job and the child is able to work in a restful, more peaceful state.
Another interesting thought: the journey matters. It’s formative. “But they become butterflies in the end either way.” True. Studies suggest that despite metamorphosis, which basically liquifies a caterpillar’s brain to restructure it into a butterfly brain, even butterflies retain and react to memories that were imprinted on them as caterpillars. As butterflies, they react with avoidance to certain negative associations they developed as caterpillars. How much more so might children carry a footprint of chronic misalignment into adulthood?
Scaffolding versus Accommodation:
Scaffolding is considered a temporary support that meets a current need. It’s necessary now, but as the student learns more skills, grows, has time to heal or becomes more independent, this support can be reduced and then removed altogether. Just like the scaffolding for construction, the intention from the beginning in placement is always to remove it in the end. Some examples could be extra help or prompting, body doubling, reminders and working alongside a child. The big difference is that the individual outgrows needing it.
Accommodations are equalizers. They’re ways to give appropriate access. A wheelchair. Glasses. Audio books. Access to technology. Speech to text. Subject or grade acceleration. Curriculum compacting. Extended time on tests, for example.
When kids are able to access learning and communication without constantly jumping through extra hoops, it’s life changing. Thistle over goo. Accommodations are not just for disabilities; Accommodations also can support needs for accelerated and gifted learners. Gifted kids deprived of access to appropriate acceleration are being sustained by the brown gunk. It works, but it wasn’t what they were wired to feast upon.
Before you throw out all the thistle in an effort not to “spoil your child”, give yourself room to breathe. Remember accommodations that give equal access don’t get thrown out, ever. With scaffolding, the trick is to stay in the sweet spot. The technical term is the Zone of Proximal Development. Think of a rubber band: if it’s limp, then things are too “easy” for your child. If it’s overstretched, it will snap. We’re looking for that sweet spot where there’s a healthy amount of stretch. Don’t worry- as I’ve said before, we ALL get it wrong at some point. But the good news is that we can recalibrate. Adjust. Pivot as we see a need. Have grace for yourself and your child. I lost sight of the full picture today. I got caught up in details and worries. In those moments, we can take a breath. Take a step back. Apologize. Practice reparation, including self-compassion.
Inhale. Remember, outsiders will judge. Exhale. Think of those who are in your closer circle of trust. Inhale. You can do this. Exhale.
You are amazing!
Truly.
~Christina
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