Last week Daughter Dearest learned how to speak up for herself at work. Cheers, whistles, fireworks, and woohoos are in order!
DD's been working a part-time job at Kohl's for about 10 months, which is still great for her. Her schedule, however, varies greatly--10 hours one week to 28 hours the next. And that's the problem. She would really like to keep her hours to somewhere around 12-15 hours per week, something she told them when she first started. More than 20 hours puts her on edge and increases her level of anxiety to about a 4 1/2 on the 1-to-5 scale. Not good.
She's also taking a summer class at Ivy Tech, which started this week. Given her Asperger's, it's a lot. Trouble is, she's never declared her Asperger's to Kohl's human resources department. And I understand that--she just doesn't want people looking at her differently.
But DD loathes confrontation and is just now, at the ripe old age of 21, learning to speak up for herself in a calm, appropriate, effective way. She's being coached on this, both at home and with her therapist, but it's still tough. For the past several months, we've explored ways to help her communicate the message--"I need fewer hours, please!"--to her managers. We explained that it's really not a big deal for Kohl's managers, that they probably hear about scheduling issues from employees all the time.
DD's no longer working with her employment services provider (you have 90 days with them following date-of-hire), but I'm sure they, too, would have been willing to coach her through this. But, again, that involves calling someone on the phone and saying, "I have a problem."
And then there's the tortured thought process. Each time her schedule would balloon with hours--this week it's 38--she would think that it was because the person doing the schedule was purposely disregarding her need to keep her hours below 15 per week. We tried explaining that it was much more likely that she was a reliable employee who did her job well and was there on time. They count on her. Or it could be that there are fewer workers in the summer, with vacations and students who've left town, so Kohl's needs to put her on the schedule more often.
So last week, in despair seeing that she was again on the schedule for 32 hours, DD forced herself to go into work on an off day. She sat in the parking lot for 30 minutes steeling herself for the conversation to come. And. Then. She. Did. It. Took all of 5 minutes.
"Hey, Bob, I need to talk to you for a minute about my schedule. I'm taking a class this semester and I really need to keep my hours to about 12."
"Oh, okay. Could you do 15 sometimes?"
"Sure, I could do that."
"Okay, not a problem, I'll just leave a note for Pam [the scheduler]." Heart restarts. Breathing continues. Heavens part. Huge weight comes off the shoulders. Smile re-emerges.
Ironically, this week DD discovered the mystery of the way-too-many-hours schedules. Turns out Kohl's "rewards" employees who sell more credit applications to customers (something DD just HATES doing) by giving them more hours. Lately more of her customers have been filling out apps, thereby moving DD up a notch on the favored employee list.
The wonderful thing is that DD learned how to advocate for herself and found that it's not the huge obstacle she made it out to be. It's actually pretty doable. The firmament will not split in two. People won't think she's a horrible person. Meteors will not fall from the sky. Pestilence will not consume the earth. Hallelujah! Now we're holding our breath for the ultimate reinforcer--seeing that the scheduling manager has followed through and lightened her load a bit.
Remember when I recommended the combo approach to transition? In a previous post (toward the end of this one, if you need to refresh your memory) I noted that we tend to choose multiple paths in life--school, work, volunteering, hobbies, etc.--and I suggested that our children with special needs should have that same choice. Well, easier said than done.
At our final Transition IEP case conference, I was introduced to a new participant in the process: Reality. Our Indiana Vocational Rehabilitation counselor invited him. He's kind of a downer, actually, but she sent him home with us and I suspect he's here to stay.
It always amazes me how clueless I still am about how transition really works. This despite the fact that I try to read the research, I attend conferences when I can, and I work in an office with transition experts. But I'm still in the dark. For the past two years, I've had a very hard time trying to envision what our son Fickle Fan's life will be like post high school, what supports will be available to him, who will provide them, and what he'll actually be doing with his time all day. FF graduated last week, and I still don't have answers to most of those questions.
I do know now, though, that FF will need to pick a VR path. A single, either-or path. Employment or postsecondary education. VR will support him in one of those, but not both. I was hoping that FF could take a couple of classes at Ivy Tech and have a part-time job, supported in both by a local disability service provider. That way, FF continues to learn and get exposure to new fields while he also gets needed job experience, where he'll learn job skills and all of the things that come with that, like money management, social awareness, time management, etc. Both avenues accompany opportunities that could lead to permanent employment. And, yes, I know that we'd be beating the odds if that were to happen.
VR, however, can only put its financial eggs in one basket at a time. FF CAN decide to pursue an associate's degree at Ivy Tech and see how that goes. Then, after a year or so, if that's not working out, he can go back to VR and ask for employment support. At that point VR would then pull the lever and switch the track over to employment services. So, as I understand it, FF isn't completely out of luck if he chooses a path that doesn't immediately work for him. He could reorient himself and try again.
But I'm loathe to limit his options when he's just 18 and still stretching and opening up to life's possibilities. And, given his high-functioning autism, I'm not sure the single focus approach is a good one. Many, many neurotypical teens hold a part-time job while taking classes at a community college. I think that makes sense for FF too.
So is that our only option? No. FF could choose to attend Ivy Tech with VR support, and he could get a part-time job, but he'd be on his own, without help finding a job, without a job coach, and on the front lines in potentially stressful situations without an advocate or with co-workers who may not understand FF's particular version of autism. It's a little scary.
We could also take the other route. FF chooses employment with VR support and takes a class or two at Ivy Tech, but again, without support. We would need to recruit, screen and hire tutors and probably a notetaker/scribe, and we'd need to provide him with transportation. The Ivy Tech in our area provides very little support for students with disabilities. The office of disability services will provide letters that the student can then take to professors to ask for accommodations, but, as in many other universities, the student is expected to advocate for themselves on campus and in the classroom. Self-advocacy is one of those skills that the majority of students on the spectrum lack. Nothing makes my children cringe like the thought of asking a stranger for something they need. So having him take classes without any support seems like setting him up for failure.
We're hoping to put a plan in place with VR in the next week or so that would also get him some sort of support for the summer. I'll keep you posted. Meanwhile, Reality says he wants to move in, rent free, and begin calling the shots. Demanding little bugger! Sigh.
DD's been working a part-time job at Kohl's for about 10 months, which is still great for her. Her schedule, however, varies greatly--10 hours one week to 28 hours the next. And that's the problem. She would really like to keep her hours to somewhere around 12-15 hours per week, something she told them when she first started. More than 20 hours puts her on edge and increases her level of anxiety to about a 4 1/2 on the 1-to-5 scale. Not good. 
