I’d know you anywhere

IMG_4722“Mommy, if you can’t find me, look for my orange shirt!” When we go running.

“I knew it was you because of your blue bag..” At the grocery store.

It is no coincidence that most of our things are brightly colored: shirts, jackets, bags, hat, bike…the car. Wherever we go we talk about how to find familiar people and how wearing a bright solid color sometimes helps my son who has cortical visual impairment (CVI), recognize or at least find me, his mom. Continue reading “I’d know you anywhere”

CVI in the hallways

CVI in the hallways
CVI in the hallways

Back to school for students with cortical visual impairment (CVI) means right back to navigating what can be brutal school hallways, sometimes even when devoid of students. In preparation for this year, I recently shared the blog post Fighting an Unwinnable Battle by Nicola McDowell, describing her emotional state by the time she arrives at class. Learning about her experience as a student and adult with cerebral visual impairment is so relatable when it comes to my child with CVI. Reading her blog helps me understand his experience in a way that few other resources can. Already this school year is a  reminder of the difficulty of navigating hallways for a student with CVI. Continue reading “CVI in the hallways”

Last day of school

E614090D-8F7F-445E-B5BA-801CA983D218The last day of school, at last. The last day of a long year, a transition year. New school, new teachers, new students, new environment, new team mostly new to the disability of cortical visual impairment (CVI). The last weeks were about pushing through, the final sprint. New assessments and therapy appointments were put on hold. Sensory outings and activities with animals and swimming were instead written in. Today is the last Friday of second grade. Today is the last art class. Today is the last pizza day. The countdown began. Continue reading “Last day of school”

It’s not you, CVI, it’s me.

Listening to music
Listening to music

As my son’s OT session wrapped up, the therapist began talking to him, summarizing what they worked on, reminding him of his homework. “Next week, you’re going to make a ham sandwich with mayonnaise…” As soon as she started talking, my son turned and looked away, down toward the floor. Noticing this, the therapist stopped mid sentence and called his name. In her mind, his looking away meant, He’s not paying attention, he’s not interested, he’s not listening to me. It was easy to see how she had misinterpreted his turning away as a loss of attention and interest. For my son who has cortical visual impairment (CVI), this kind of thing happens on a daily basis. Continue reading “It’s not you, CVI, it’s me.”