Making Money on Autism

There are lots of autism bloggers, and lots of single moms with kiddos on the spectrum. Lots of us have learned so much from experience, and lots of us want to share that because we know how hard it can be.  And there a few of us who have the ability to make a few bucks doing this.

Way back when I started this blog, one of the things that inspired me was the inability to find existing social stories online that weren’t for sale.  I was tired of being nickel-and-dimed for every little resource I needed for The Boy.  Others had experienced just what we were going through, and someone had to have a social story already written, so that I wouldn’t have to re-create the wheel every time, but they were all for sale. And money is hard to come by when your paying for uninsured therapies, prescriptions, diapers or your 5 year old… It’s tough.

I have long considered trying to take this blog to the next level, and maybe “go pro” which means trying to attract companies to advertise here. Most bloggers do this, and I don’t see it as trying to make money off of other autism or special needs parents.  Advertising is everywhere, and I don’t think anyone would see this as a blogger trying to take advantage of her audience.

There are other bloggers that sell stuff on their sites, as well.  And I think we have to be very careful when we head in that direction.  T-shirts are one thing.  Resources are another.  Trust me – I understand the sentiment behind it – when you work hard to create something, you have a tendency to want to protect it, and while you want to share it with the world, you feel you deserve something in return.  I get it.  But we cannot forget that person on the other end, spending money on therapy, weighted blankets, chewies, and special gluten-free ingredients.  Our community needs to remain one in which we share resources at little cost, and respect each other’s struggles. If we forget that, we’ve lost our way.

The autism community needs to stick together

Advertisements

The Sightreading of the Parenting World

When I was a band director, it was always expected that I took the bands to “Festival,” which is a nicey-nice term for what it really was – competition.  Ideally, the judges would rate each band according to an ideal, a standard, but in reality, they were comparing your group to the other groups they’d just heard, and would hear after yours, and indeed the phantom college band they had playing in their head at all times, being conducted by some very famous college band director.  And when you were done they would post your scores in the cafeteria, right under the group that had performed before you, and right above the group after you, so everyone could compare…  Yep, it was a competition through and through.

My favorite part as an educator, and my own gauge of my effectiveness as a teacher, though, was sightreading.  This involved taking your group of stage-frightened, stressed-out kids into an unfamiliar band room, and handing them manila envelopes with explicit rules not to touch the envelopes until directed to.  Then, after reading an interminably long page of more rules, the kids and I were able to see the music, and then had seven minutes in which to discuss two pieces of music.  We were not allowed to play a note, just review it together as quickly as possible, and try to catch all of the notes, rhythms, dynamic markings, and other nuances that normally take several months of rehearsal to bring to the stage.  Sometimes we ran out of time and didn’t get through it all.  Sometimes we had time left over.  But when time was up, we played, and were scored on how well we played by the judge.

I often feel like parenting is a lot like being a band director, preparing, rehearsing, going over details until they “get-it,” and then moving on to the next thing.  But that being an autism parent is more like sightreading.  Using all of your knowledge and skills, sometimes in what seems like a very condensed amount of time (because it usually just takes our kids a longer amount of time to do everything), on a stressed-out and overwhelmed kid, and hoping that you’ve done enough for them to be able to apply what you’ve taught them.  There’s a lot of adrenaline and anxiety, and at the end of the day, if you did the best you could do, you take what you’re given, reflect on what could have gone better, and get ready to do it again.

Except band directors (and students) do it once a year.  Autism parents do it every day.

Cheers to all the maestros out there.