Pragmatic Mechanics

The strategies for improving our students' social-pragmatics are a hot topic in the Aspergers Community. My reading has introduced me to a great deal about strengthening students' Theory of Mind, or Perspective-Taking, and Carol Gray's Social Stories and Comic Book Conversations. And I am intrigued by the formats of these strategies in the Art Classroom.

The format for many of the interventions do not seem conducive to the everyday classroom environment, as these interventions are often facilitated by clinicians or specialists, often after-the-fact or beyond the scope of the 'teachable moment.' Perhaps it's impossible to imagine, though, a more beneficial treatment than what Carol Gray and others have devised. My issue, then, becomes more a question of expanding the range of educators/staff who can utilize the lessons of these pragmatic strategies.

As an art educator, my name rarely is included in those who may contribute to the treatment of the pragmatically-deficient student. And for good reason. I'm not at all surprised and do not feel slighted in the least, because the typical scope of the art teacher does not include teaching social pragmatics to young artists. But, I reserve the right to claim that no two art teachers are exactly the same. And so, why couldn't the artroom be a place for pragmatic practice?

Currently, my work in a course titled Teaching in New Media, led by Jen Hall and Fred Wolflink at the Massachusetts College of Art & Design, has expanded my expectations for a typical visual art curriculum. My work in the class has alerted me to the teaching potential to be found in the realm of interactive media and robotics/mechanical structures. It is here where my brainstorm lies.

By viewing the role of various parts and pieces found in robotics or mechanical structures, one sees the give-and-take or cause-and-effect between actions. This visual of one thing leading to a next, or a domino effect, is also at play in the social-pragmatic strategies I've read so much about. Why not incorporate the use of machines or robots into the teaching of pragmatic strategies?

My plan, in its earliest stage at present, is to develop a easy-to-assemble machine, built in art class, which will allow students to input social situations into a coded, interactive environment, thereby making visible the complex interactions present in everyday communications. The student with AS, who perhaps is prone to working with systems or analyzing how things work, may find this approach beneficial to internalizing the pragmatic strategies that they have learned.

In theory, the machine would be simple, made from lightweight materials, and sequential. The pieces would move by a single crank, and the social interactions would be activated in sequence through this simple motion. The coded 'players' would be inserted for each specific situation, with students/staff writing or drawing symbols on small cards that would be attached in appropriate places on the machine. As the crank is turned, the first bit of information in the situation would be revealed, followed in sequence by the remaining bits of information, until the conclusion reveals a desired outcome for the student and others involved.

Here's an example: imagine a student had a horrible, raging fit in the middle of a math game. No one really knows what happened, but there's no doubt that the student is upset. The teacher is also upset because the class had to stop and the student was unable to complete the assignment. The problem is that no one really knows why the other is upset. The student thinks the teacher just doesn't "get it," and the teacher thinks the student is just being "overdramatic."

Now, a staff sits down with the student in a quiet place, away from the situation, and gets the real scoop. Apparently, when the math game pieces were being passed out, the teacher passed the cards out in a different order than usual: she usually passes them out clockwise around the room, but today she walked counter-clockwise. The student had noticed this and told the teacher, to which she said, "It'll be fine. I'm just passing them out a different way today." The student counted the students in the room, and she determined that, had the teacher handed out the cards the "right" way, she would have ended up with the card that the student to her right now possesses, which is just not fair. As the game progressed, the student to the right had a very good card, as he was getting all the benefits of a good card. Meanwhile, our student's card was not garnering equally wonderful results. This was seen by the student as unfair. She should have have had the winning card! But the teacher had unfairly changed the way she passed out the cards and now her card wasn't winning. This is why she got upset and started yelling and throwing the game about.

All in all, the staff is able to understand the student's frustrations. The outcome still was not appropriate, though, and the staff would like to share with the student some strategies for what to do if it happens again. The staff also thinks it's important to explain to the student that the teacher had not intended to make the student lose at the math game.

Here's how this little Pragmatics Machine comes into play: using the information gathered from the discussion, the staff and student will fill in the appropriate information on the cards. The cards are coded and placed into the machine. If placed correctly, the student will watch as the cards interact with each other to illustrate visually a more desired outcome to the situation (one that doesn't involve a raging tantrum). As the crank turns, a card with the Setting (classroom) and the Activity (math game) is revealed. The crank continues to turn and a new image is revealed: the participants (student and teacher). Then the Problem (the unlucky card) is revealed, followed by a thought bubble icon which shows first the student's thoughts ("This is unfair! She gave me a bad card!") and, second, the teacher's thoughts ("I just decided to pass out cards differently today. I have no knowledge about the cards before handing them out."). Finally, the Solution card is turned and reveals whatever outcome the student had brainstormed (possibly, an image of the student being a good loser and shaking the hand of the person who won). The crank is stopped and the student discusses the action of the machine.

By focusing on how one piece of information affects the next, the student is able to make a social map in her head for this particular situation. The machine construction, which she can follow visually by watching the parts' interacting, will help her connect to the social-pragmatics involved in such a situation.

As time passes and practice with the machine is accumulated, the student will be able to picture in her head the possible inner-workings of these problematic social interactions and imagine a more appropriate outcome or final piece before she decides to act.

I'm excited by this idea in that it will take the common intervention strategies in use today and make them tangible in a new way, and via a new source: the art room. For some students, who are fascinated by moving parts or mechanical systems, this may allow for a more internalized acceptance and execution of these strategies, in real-time situations.

As I begin my trials with this project, I will update my findings here and welcome any feedback and/or questions about my goals.

A Visit to Arthur Ganson's Work @ the MIT Museum

Machine with Roller Chain

by Arthur Ganson, 1996

steel, motor & roller chain

as seen in the MIT Museum, Cambridge, Massachusetts

Arthur Ganson's work is currently on display at the MIT Museum in Cambridge, Massachusetts. The exhibit, composed of works from his time as resident artist in 1998, ensnares its visitors amidst a return to innocence that is, altogether, too abrupt and short-lived.

As I made my way to the second floor, past the exhibit about animatronics and interactive artificial intelligences and some works of holography (did I mention that the museum was just a wealth of fascinating information??), I was welcomed to the world of Ganson's small machines.

Each machine offered a playful invitation, not only to enjoy its aesthetic, but to solve the mystery of its function. Many of his works involve a multitude of interactive parts, making up the greater Whole, and many an onlooker could be seen carefully using their fingers to trace an imaginary line of action from one moving piece to another. I too would find the "focus" of the works, which was often a character or item like a plastic figure or an avocado leaf or a pair of deuling daquiri swords, and work my way backwards to the eventual source of the movement. At times, an elaborate action's genesis would be housed in a miniature motor, one found in kids' race cars.

My purpose in attending the exhibit was to view the many works and select one to which I was strongly drawn. I then was to analyze the action and decipher the engineering language of the piece. My hope in selecting a piece was that it would in some way relate to my "quizzical itch" of bettering my understanding of a mind with Aspergers.

I chose Machine with Roller Chain, 1996. The action simple, with a single steel rod's being twirled by a motor. At the end of the rod was attached a 16-tooth gear. Around the gear was wrapped a heavy-duty bike chain (or Roller Chain, as it was labeled). The chain was fed away from the gear, through an opening in a steel plate, which was in the shape of a flattened letter U. The chain then returned to the gear through another opening in the plate, where it would catch the gear teeth and repeat the loop through the two openings. The curious aspect of the macine was the glaring lack of a second gear at the middle of the roller chain. The use of the machine was to be useless. Nothing happened once the roller chain was moved.

Perhaps "nothing" is not the correct word; it in fact created a mesmerizing effect, with the roller chain's overlapping and bunching upon itself while the other end of the chain was slowly returned through the other opening. The action of the ever-accumulating links of chain imitated an image of magma exiting the mouth of a volcano, with more and more material spewing forth and joining with previously-expelled lava. The resulting pile of excess roller chain atop the steel plate was one of constant motion and alteration, yet the pile did not progress beyond its name. It was always a pile.

I loved the simplicity of the machine and how it was the antithesis of Ganson's other works. Whereas his other objects were examples of seamless mechanical interaction, here was a piece that was lacking an entire piece of the equation. The chain's movement produced no further activity. It just was.

It's in this simplicity that I found my connection. As a teacher, how often do I expect too much from a student? How many times have I overlooked the beauty of the process at the root of the problem? Especially when discussing the deficiencies that accompany the mind with AS, how easy is it to say, "But they only did it halfway!" "What about the other half of the assignment (or interaction or activity or whatever)?" When in actuality, the effort that produces the first step in a task is equally as important, and, sometimes, the hardest of all. It takes flexibility and patience and an open mind to recognize the beauty in the half-finished task. But with AS, it's one of the most valuable responses we can offer the struggling student.

For instance, I welcomed a new student to my art class today. He is in the 3rd Grade and has an AS diagnosis. He was facing a difficult situation as soon as he entered the room, because we'd been working as a group for the previous six weeks on a class project. This student was entering toward the end of a project and being asked to join a team of peers with whom he'd worked very little. The deck was definitely stacked against him, and I honestly expected some fireworks.

And we had a few to begin with. I'd expected that he'd find trouble in transitioning to a new room with a new teacher. I'd expected that he wouldn't really be a strong teammate, as I've observed many with AS who have a hard time working with group dynamics. But I knew that this was something that the student would benefit from experiencing, so I stuck to my guns. I asked the student how he thought he could contribute to the project, whether he had any ideas of what to add to the sculpture. He ignored me and actually physically moved his body away from me in his seat, nearly falling off the other side of the chair! As the class progressed, I worked to find an avenue on which we could find some compromise and success, but no headway was made by the end of the period.

I had a planning block following the class, so I asked to keep the student with me so we could sort out the frustrations. By the end of another half-hour, we'd come to an agreement: he would make TWO sculptures of rescue choppers (military aircraft is one of his topics of perseveration or special interest), one of which could be attached to the class sculpture and the other which will be mailed to the RI Coast Guard.

Now, how this relates, in as roundabout a way as I can manage, is that a bystander may say, "But he didn't do any work! He just pouted and argued all period!" But, it was in his finding a compromise that I think the most difficult challenge was for this student. He can make the sculpture in five minutes if he wants to, but it was in his talking through his frustrations and seeing an issue from more than his own perspective that really showed he learned something today. I had to find my solace in his establishing that FIRST gear of the machine, that will allow everything else that comes after it to work correctly.

This is the lesson that I hope to carry with me. Thanks to the work of Arthur Ganson, my interaction now has a concrete visual example on which I can draw, and, since I am quite the visual learner, I have gained quite an extraodinary new perspective.

P.S. Here's one of the more whimsical of Ganson's pieces that I thought shouldn't be missed: wishbone.

Theory of Mind Artist

As I've begun learning more about the deficiencies of the AS mind, I've become particularly intrigued by the concept of "Theory of Mind."

Basically, this is the phenomenon of the "You know that I know that you know that I know ad infinitum" gag. Someone with AS may struggle to predict accurately the thoughts of someone else. It touches upon the idea that someone with AS may not understand that others may have different perspectives or expectations in any given circumstance, based on an infinite number of factors. Theory of Mind exercises come in many different forms, but I feel that the art room may offer a unique opportunity to mix this idea of mind-reading (sort of) with the art room critique.

I have utilized the Visual Thinking Strategies with my students for the past year. I participated in a workshop at the Boston Museum of Fine Arts, where they instructed me on the technique established by Philip Yenawine and Abigail Housen. The curriculum, which may be modified for all ages, has provided a consistent and effective outlet for my students and their reactions to a wide array of contemporary artists' works.

Each week, students are asked three questions about a piece of art. The questions never change, but the artwork does. They answer: 1) What is going on in this picture? 2) What do you see that makes you say that? and 3) What more can you find?

This format allows me the opportunity to expose students to a wide range of artists and media, including certain artists that provide imagery that also promises to expand the Theory of Mind skills.

As I discover them, I will do my best to share the artists I discover, eventually compiling a list of effective artists for use in VTS exercises.

Over the past year, some artists whose work has been especially successful at eliciting student reactions have been: Edward Hopper, Rene Magritte, and Norman Rockwell.

An artist I discovered in the "Critic's Picks" section of last months ARTnews, Brian Ulrich, also fits this criteria beautifully. His work is documentary, but humorous and with a unique point of view. He photographs public shopping places and observes the banal decisions and interactions we encounter at our local markets.

I plan to show this photo, #35, Indianapolis, IN 2004, over the next week. I was particularly intrigued by the seemingly out of place projector unit being held by the father. Why, in a photo of your family would you so prominently display such an item? It's a baffling decision for an NT like myself, but it may be downright unfathomable for one with AS, with a deficiency in Theory of Mind. I look forward to observing the different responses I'll receive about the image.

image source: http://www.notifbutwhen.com