–by Lorraine Fuller This is one of the hardest blogs I have ever written, harder even than the one about failure. You see, I have been asked my thoughts about the latest school shooting. Like many people, my thoughts and emotions are scattered, and being the parent of a child with early trauma has changed how I see things even more. When the Columbine shooting happened, I had three children, all emotionally healthy. One was
–by Sara Borgstede [originally published on the author’s own blog, The Holy Mess, on October 16, 2017] Good parents can have kids who make bad choices. There, I said it. There are plenty of good parents out there who have kids who make bad choices. I’m sure you know a few, and I do too. I’ve known amazingly consistent, loving parents who had kids who made poor choices. Conversely, I’ve known parents who are making
–by Laura Dennis I don’t know about you, but parenting a child who has suffered trauma and been diagnosed with reactive attachment disorder can bring out a side of me no one should ever see. I’ve yelled far more than I care to admit (it’s a miracle I still have a voice with which to speak) and I’ve locked myself up to cry. I’ve revved up to fever pitch, then just as quickly shut down.
Dear educator: My kids have been blessed with many amazing teachers. I have many friends and family in education. They put in many hours and pursue continuing education to become better. Most deal with students from a wide variety of backgrounds with varying abilities, skills, weaknesses, and experiences. It is difficult to learn about every special need, disability, trigger, culture or background that might impact the students you work with. I totally get that. I,
–by Julie Beem In early October I fell and broke my left knee cap (annihilated it into pieces is a more accurate description). The skillful surgeon put Humpty Dumpty back together again, but I was ordered to remain immobile for six weeks while my old bones decided to knit back together. Right before Thanksgiving, the “do not put any weight on it or attempt to bend” orders became “move as much as you can.” The
So last week I got all clever talking about “Trauma Tuesday,” only to have this Tuesday be, well, traumatic! Have no fear, though. The blog will be back this weekend with a new post from ATN‘s very own Julie Beem, writing about scar tissue and what our brains believe. Two weeks ago, we introduced a new blogger, Sandi Lerman, and in the weeks to come, you’ll meet some more. Could one of them be you?
–by Janyne McConnaughey, PhD “It’s just me.” That’s what I used to think about my behavior, including when I myself was a student. Then I began to learn. My growing understanding of the effects of trauma on children and how they learn has come from several sources. In addition to my own experiences as a traumatized child and later as a teacher educator, I have been researching trauma-sensitive schools while watching a series of webinars
–by Sandi Lerman [originally published on the author’s blog, Adoption Roots and Wings, May 28, 2017] Manager’s note: Trauma mama / Parent coach Sandi recently reached out to ATN, and we couldn’t be happier! Please enjoy her first post, and may there be many more to come. As a parent coach for adoptive moms, I always recommend that families implement what I call “The Four Essential Elements for Transforming Trauma.” These are like
–by Lorraine Fuller So, you survived Christmas! Yay! I am happy for you. I don’t know how much chocolate, or bread, or caffeine, or alcohol it took, but you survived. Soon the kids will be back to school. So let’s take a moment, even if you don’t want to hear it, to talk about next year and how we can make it better. I’ve been talking to a bunch of moms about how they handle
–by Laura Dennis [NOTE: this post references this author’s faith as an aspect of her own experience. It is not meant in any way to proselytize, nor does it represent the beliefs of everyone at ATN.] I was crying. Again. I never know when secondary traumatic stress will rear its ugly head. I do know it can get awfully old. “It’s just that I hate Christmas,” I blurted out, trying unsuccessfully to stifle