Saturday, April 29, 2006

Bye Bye Blogspot

Hello All I have taken my posts and gifts from bloggers and moved to Fluenthoughts. Please pay me a visit :) Thank you for Bloboz for making it possible :) THANK YOU B.Oz :)

Saturday, April 22, 2006

أبي أنام

I can't sleep I can't breathe well I drink coffee and never get the fix My head aches, my stomach aches, my brain aches I read, read, read, read and read To not think I close the book and start to think I read, read, read, read and read I stray while I read and think I try to concentrate on reading I read I close the book and try to sleep, no use It's already 3:00 am and am still awake It's already Fajer prayer and am still awake I wash and pray I go back to bed I sleep I wake up at 6:00 am I shower, change, have coffee and leave Am sleepy, my mode is awful Am all awful My day is awful I hate it when it's awful I think awful I eat awful I breathe awful All week is awful Sleepless Head aches Busy mind I hate busy mind I want to sleep

Friday, April 21, 2006

Broken Tongue (First Try)

Talking is a daily progress, a necessary need in life, one major communication tool. "Hello, I would like to order one thin crispy Halloumi pizza with tomato" "Hi, I am Ms. Al …., and would like to apply for a job in your company" "Three tickets for Ace Age, please" "I need the bank's average rate for 17 April" "Could I have a smaller size please?" "One tall latte please" She told her parents about the speech therapist visiting her at school and wanting to talk to her about her stammer; they called school next day and asked them how they could do such a thing without their permission. Mrs. Shaikha was shocked "Why permission? We are trying to help your daughter"; What Mrs. Shaikha didn't know is that she has raised it as a problem, the girl didn't think of it as a problem as she does now because of the way it was treated before, her therapist would observe her in class and tell her teachers how to deal with her without the need of taking her out of class, without the need of her feeling she is different than others. Her parents refused and told Mrs. Shaikha that they will help their daughter their way. She has always thought that her stammer was permanent and managed to cope with it, few tears when angry or frustrated and all will be good. He was sitting in the opposite side of the table staring at her. She looks at the people sitting to her side and motions to them to see this guy staring at her in a strange freaky way. He would not stop staring, until it's time to leave. they all get out of the room and she searches for her shoes which she left at the door step; while she does that they all leave except for him, it's when he gets his knife out of his pocket and hold her arms tight, she tries to escape but her legs wouldn't move, she tries to call for help but her voice wouldn't come out, she tries to close her eyes, but her eyes wouldn't close, he puts his knife on her throat wanting to kill her, she feels her blood moving through her vessels, she hears her breath so clear and her heart beats so high. She wants it all to stop; she wants to die before his knife cutting her throat. Please don’t kill me. Though she has been having this dream since she could remember, and though she knows what will happen next, she would always wake up terrified. She has this dream when ever her stammer gets to its peak. Days past and even months since her parents called Mrs. Shaikha, life is getting better and her homesickness is reducing, she made new friends and started socializing with people but her stammer is getting worse and worse until it got to its highest level. Her parents thought that she should start therapy; they started calling people and asking for good therapists; they first called a friend of theirs who works as psychological therapist who had a stammering son who doesn't stammer anymore to see if there is any possible psychological problem that could have caused her stammer; but fortunately or maybe unfortunately there wasn't. They then thought that she should meet a speech therapist; she refused; but her family insisted and told her that she will not lose a thing. She went with them to meet her, her parents told her about their daughter's history with stammer. She then asked them to leave her alone with their daughter. "Hello" "Hi" with an uncertain smile "Tell me about your life" "It's good" "Do you go to school?" "Yes" "How are your grades?" "Good" "How good are they?" "Very good" Her answers were all short, direct to the question, and in the other hand the therapist doesn't know how to attract an angry stammering teenager to a nice long conversation. So she got fed up with her and told her to call her parents in and wait out side. In their way home her parents told her that the therapist told them that she is not a stammerer and that she is faking it. The daughter was very angry and wanted to cry badly; how could she fake her pain, tears, suffer, years of hesitating before asking a question or participating in a conversation. How could she fake it knowing that some would laugh at her or ridicule her talk; years of losing breath, chest pain and wet pillows. How in God could she fake it? "I wish that she would suffer the highest stammer ever for the rest of her life" "Don't say that dear" said her father "I wish that she loses her tongue and all her senses" "Don't worry dear; we don't believe her" her mum crying Her first try was one of the worst tries. To be continued

Sunday, April 16, 2006

Broken Tongue (The brave coward)

School was one of her favourite places she enjoyed education, loved math, and interested in history. She wouldn’t mind raising her hand and stammering while answering or explaining things; her teachers never made her feel that it was a problem. She was 13 when they moved to her claimed home; new house, new people, new culture, new facts, new life style and a new school. School was the major problem beside her mother's illness and travelling for a surgery and recovery. School oh school; in this country schools are nothing but miserable centres where education comes last; she, her brothers and sister have attended different schools private and public, Arabic and English; none of them were good to be called an education centre. She hated her new school; she hated her teachers except for one. She was behaving as she used to; a good student in math she was, it was her favourite subject; in one of her math classes, her teacher explained a theory to them and showed them how to solve some problems using it; she then wrote a question on the board and asked them to solve it; the girl figured that she could solve it in three steps instead of five; math teacher told her it was wrong and marked it wrong with a red pen. Then the teacher showed them how to solve it, and for her surprise it was the same result at the end, so the brave cowered raised her hand, "Yes?" asked the teacher "I have the same result" stumbling her words out; "You did it in three steps and it should be in five" replied irritated; "but this is an easier way that I have discovered, and it needs less steps yet with the same result" said the brave coward. "So you come from a foreign country being so proud of you self telling me how to do my job" shouted the teacher at her; no one have ever shouted at her like that, at her old school they would have granted her for her creative way. She was shocked and scared of her teacher's attitude, she tried to explain but her stammer flew to it's peak, her words would not come out easily and her teacher was telling her to shut up; but as a stubborn stammer and a very brave coward she was, she can't stop before completing her sentence which she started saying before her teacher told her to shut up; it is when her teacher told her to go the social supervisor's office. While walking the social supervisor's office she was saying in an audible voice "I hate her, I hate her, I hate her, I hate her, and I hate her" and her tears were covering her face. She came to her office and knocked the door "Come in" "Good morning Mrs. Shaikha" "Hi, were you crying?" "NO" "Ok, why are you here?" "My math teacher sent me to you" "Why?" "I don't know". She waited there for her math teacher to arrive and explain things to Mrs. Shaikha. The teacher arrived and Mrs. Shaikha told the girl to stay outside for a while; the math teacher started explaining things to Mrs. Shaikha in a very loud voice "This little girl is teaching me how to do my job; she thinks that she is smarter than me because she lived in a foreign country, I had to show her how to behave good and to teach her manners". "Yup yup yup she's crazy alright" the girl said to her self in a audible voice, it's when some one from behind her said "Who is crazy?"; the girl was so scared that she couldn't recognize the voice; luckily it was Mrs. Elham the English teacher who unfortinatley wasn't her teacher, "hahaha you scared me; it's my math teacher". The girl told Mrs. Elham what happened. Mrs. Elham solved the problem according to her definition of solving; but the brave cowered wasn’t pleased; she went home and told her father what happened, which she never did before, she never told him or her mother when she was bothered of peoples behaviour towards her stammer, but her teacher said big words about her needing to behave good and needs to be taught manners. "I don't want to go to school any more, and I will not until this teacher dies" "I will go to your school tomorrow morning and talk to your teacher" "Go alone, I'm not going with you" "Until when?" "Until I feel I want to". She stayed at home for one month; I don't remember what made her go back to school, but remember Mrs. Elham hugging her and kissing her on both cheeks. At her first day of coming back Mrs. Shaikha asked her to come to her office, because there's someone who wants to meet her. The girl went and there was a lady sitting in her office talking to Mrs. Shaikha. "This is Mrs. Nora, she wants to talk with you for a while; come sit over here, and I will leave the office for you two to talk". "Hi I'm Mrs. Nora" "Hi" "Come sit" "Okay" "Now tell me, how is school?" "Fine" "How are your grades?" "Don't know, just started" Stumbling her words out "Hmmm, do you do that all the time?" "Do what?" "Stammer when you talk" "aha" "I'm here to solve that" "solve what?" "Your stammer" No reply "Now you have to tell me when it started" "Does my family know about you talking to me about it?" "No, but Mrs. Shaikha will tell them later" "Sorry then I can't talk to you" "But I'm here to help you" The brave coward stood up and went to her class. To be continued

Thursday, April 13, 2006

Broken Tongue (Good girl)

“I will throw you a party and let you wear the blue dress your aunt sent you”. “I will invite all of your friends”. She was really happy about it but wasn’t sure that she could do what her mother asked as an alteration for this party. She tried her best to do. She did it the hard way, a 7 years old girl holding her tongue all day, not talking to prove to her mother that she could be fluent; which wasn’t true. She only kept her mouth shut for one day. On Saturday morning she woke up early and wasn’t sure if it was a dream or reality, until her mother started preparing for the party. She went upstairs to try her dress on; a long blue and white dress that she thought that only a princess would have a dress like that. She was still not sure about the party, she had many questions but was afraid to ask, a question may ruin her party if she didn’t ask it properly with a fluent tongue. Her friends started to come; they all were amazed with her princess dress; she was so proud to be the princess of the party; she ruled the place and the eyes were all on her. She took all the attention of the guests. She played all day and had fun. One of the kids asked her: “There are no candles on the cake. Isn’t it your birthday?” “No” she said; “Then why this party?”. “Go ask my mother” she said it, thinking it was a good opportunity to know the reason her self. They both went to her mother; the friend asked her, and the mother answered “Because she has been a good girl” and winked to her daughter. Her mother had suffered a lot with her daughter; she felt her pain and wanted badly to take it all away, but as a human with limited powers she couldn’t. She would rarely talk to her daughter about her stammer thinking that her daughter is not comfortable when talking about it. When her daughter’s stammer gets to its peak, the daughter prefers to be mute yet have to talk sometimes specially with her family it’s when the mother breaks down crying in front of her daughter. “W---W---Why are you c—c—c---crying?” “I miss my family dear” “W—W----” loses her breath; inhales trying to get enough air “W---We are your fffffffffff---fffamily” “Yes you are” The daughter knows that her mother is hurt because of her; but a girl in her age would only think that she was the reason for those tears and pain not knowing that her mother felt sorry for her and that she cried because she can’t do any thing to reduce her daughter’s suffering. She only knew that good girls never stammer. To be continued

Tuesday, April 11, 2006

Broken Tongue (Disney and Warner)

In winter it snows at her place, their back yard would be covered with snow, thick, white and cold, she and her brother would wear their coats and gloves and make a snowman by the help of their mother. They would put buttons as his eyes and a stick as his nose. When it starts snowing again they go inside and search in their VHSs for a good movie. They usually choose Mary Poppins or L’apperentie Sorciere, Musical movies, full of magic and other worlds. They sing and dance with the characters and act as if they were not in their living room, not in their house, not in this world. She was 5 at the time she discovered another world, the world of where she could talk not fluent yet she wasn't bothered by her talk; she started adding some characters to her world and joins her brother sometimes. Her world was every where, at home, at class, in the playground, when watching TV, when listening to a story or reading a book. In her world she had a friend called Casper who would come for her rescue when ever she needed. Everything in her world could talk and fly except for her, she could jump high, dance as a ballerina, and talk as a mild stammerer. She would talk so much in her world that the caterpillars would call her "chatterbox". Her mild stammer was obscure, which made her think for a while that she was fluent as others. At six they had to move south where she started attending in a new school. In her class some kids were mean and started calling her Porky the pig; it's when she went to her world searching for Casper who refused to come and help her. She started being aggressive; once she pushed a girl on the ground and another time she pulled one's hair. If her tongue couldn't defend her, her hands could, she thought. Her teachers were so nice with her and never forced her to read loud, she would only read in a group and only if she felt like it. But they never gave her an important rule in school plays thinking that she might spoil the show and not knowing that acting was never a problem to her. She felt jealous of the other kids and wanted badly to take a rule in a play but she never said that to any. She would instead do those rules in front of the mirror with her imaginary friends and brother. Her talking disorder produced other habits that would accompany her talk. Squeezing her hands and lips, shaking her head, stamping her feet and closing her eyes tight, were habits that would accompany her talk to force her words out. Talking quickly until loosing her breath which caused for losing her voice at the end of every sentence would make her repeat it again. Switching words and saying something but meaning another, asking for something but wanting something else were other habits produced by her disorder.

One morning Billy’s mother sent him for lemons, and he returned with a purchase of oranges. Why, she wanted to know, did he bring oranges instead of lemon? “Because the man didn’t have any lemon” said Billy. Whereupon she determined to return the oranges herself and give the grocer a piece of her mind. She went and Billy started after her with fear- stricken eyes. Then he hid him self in the bedroom. “Billy” she said, quite beside herself with anger, when she returned, “Why did you lie to me?”. A flood of pent up tears rushed down Billy’s cheeks. The mother gathered him in her arms. “Come, son” she consoled “Tell your mother your mother what is the matter” she knows her little man wouldn’t deliberately story to her. And Billy, amid violent sobs, said “I couldn’t say the words” Abraham H. Kanter & Abe S. Kohn – And The Stutterer Talked

To be continued

Sunday, April 09, 2006

Broken Tongue (Making Friends)

Shakir was the first to approach her "Hi, would you be my friend?" "Yes" she replied in a tinny voice that was barely heard. She began to talk more often and respond to other kids yet not much to her teacher. The more she talked the more breath she lost, the more pain in her chest she got, and more words were blocked. She didn't like the feeling she had when finishing her talk and wanted to say her words again, in a proper way, but eventually she will get the same results. She still didn't care much and started making friends. She, Shakir and two girls made a group until one day one of the girls told her that she can't play with her anymore because her mother said if she keeps playing with her she will start talking funny, like her. The two girls left the group fearing to catch the habit; Shakir remained being her friend and didn't care about her funny talk. To get rid of the bad feeling she gets after each conversation, she started repeating her words to her self non-obviously; for her surprise they came out smoothly with no blocking. She started trying things that will stop her from blocking. Talking to her self worked, talking to the mirror worked, talking to her toys worked, talking to the pigeons out side her window worked, and talking to the words written in her parents books worked. She discovered then that only talking to humans didn't work. To be continued