Son Rise: The Miracle Continues [Paperback]

Barry Neil Kaufman (Author), Raun Kaufman (Author)

Book Description

Publication Date: February 23, 1995

In 1979, the classic best-seller Son-Rise was made into an award-winning NBC television special, which has been viewed by 300 million people worldwide. Now, Son-Rise: The Miracle Continues presents an expanded and updated journal of Barry and Samahria Kaufman's successful effort to reach their once "unreachable" autistic child. Part one documents Raun Kaufman's astonishing development from a lifeless, autistic, retarded child into a highly verbal, lovable youngster with no traces of his former condition. Part two details Raun's extraordinary progress from the age of four into young adulthood. Part three shares moving accounts of five families that successfully used the Son-Rise Program to reach their own special children. An awe-inspiring reminder that love moves mountains. A must for any parent, teacher or student of personal growth. Do you ever wonder why things turn out the way they do? I do. Every so often, I ask myself why an event in my life occurred, if maybe it had some sort of purpose or reason. I realize that, in the larger scheme of things, I can never really know why events happen or if there is some sort of grand plan for us all. I do believe, though, that each event offers us a brand new chance to change ourselves and our lives, whether the change is slight or sweeping. Even if we can't know whether there is some great cosmic reason for the workings of the world, we can still give events meaning with what we do with them. When I was diagnosed as autistic (and also severely mentally retarded, with a below-thirty IQ), my parents were given ample opportunity to treat the event as a tragedy. The whole world saw autism as hopeless and encouraged my parents to see it that way too. Sometimes it dawns on me how close I came to spending my life encapsulated inside my own head, lacking the tools to interact with the rest of the world. My autism could have been just another event without meaning or explanation. What turned it around was not a string of events, but rather a wildly different and unheard of perspective: Refusing to accept the age-old view of autism as a terrible catastrophe, my parents came up with the radical idea that my autism was a chance - a great opportunity, in fact - to try to reach a child lost behind a thick, hazy cloud. It was a chance to make greatness out of something commonly viewed as unquestionably sad and tragic. This perspective, combined with a passionate relentlessness on the part of my parents, enabled me to undergo a spectacular metamorphosis and emerge from the shell of my autism without a trace of my former condition. When I think about what my parents did with my autism, I see what a tremendous role we all play in each event that confronts us. It was not my recovery that made the event of my autism amazing and meaningful (though, needless to say, I'm very happy with the outcome); it was my parents' open-minded attitude in the face of my condition and their desire to find meaning in it regardless of how I turned out in the end. You don't have to "cure" your special child in order for his or her specialness to have meaning and value. The value lies not in "results" but in how you treat your situation and your child. The question of what is and is not possible has forever been bouncing around in my head. I have definitely had a few times in my life when I chose not to bother attempting to accomplish something because I thought, "That's impossible." At other times, I catch myself thinking this way and realize that it is precisely this type of thinking that could have landed me in an institution for the rest of my life. If there is one thing my life has taught me, it is that anything is possible. I don't mean this idea in the superficial way it is often used. I mean to say that nothing is beyond our reach if we honestly believe that it is within our power to reach it. I've found that I, rather than any external situation, am my own biggest limiter. One line that parents of special children hear more than anyone else is the "that's impossible" line. The "experts" showered my parents with prognoses like "hopeless", "irreversible", "unreachable" and "incurable". All my parents had to do was believe these "experts" (not a difficult task, since these doctors had plenty of evidence to back their opinions), and my journey would have been over. Instead, my parents defied the professionals, disbelieved their prognoses, and grabbed hold of the belief that they could at least try to do the impossible, reach the unreachable, cure the incurable. "But your son has a devastating, lifelong condition. He can never come out of it" the doctors scolded. "So what?" my parents would reply. "We're going to try, anyway, and see what happens." The word expert is the misnomer of the century. The pessimistic outlook that the "experts" show many parents need not be taken seriously. Whatever you've been told about the severity of your child's condition, don't buy it. You and your child can do a whole lot more than any "expert" could possibly know. No matter how much evidence a doctor can show you, it will never be enough to prove that something is impossible. You want to know something? Evidence is a sham. It can always be defied or demolished. If you really believe in evidence, use it to prove the possible instead of the impossible. (I'm on the debating team at my college, and I've seen how evidence can be used to back up either side of an issue.) Many, especially the "experts," might claim that I am advocating "false hope." "False hope"? What do they mean by "false hope"? How in the world can anyone put these two words together? When I think about my successful academic career, my fierce tennis matches, my love of Stephen King novels., the fantasy and science fiction short stories I've written, my admittance to the university of my choice, my best friends, my girlfriend, and my complete and ecstatic involvement with life, it occurs to me that each and every one of these is the product of "false hope." Nothing can ever be bad or wrong about hope. Not ever. I advocate giving yourself and those around you as large a dose of it as possible. So, I bet you're wondering what this product of "false hope" is doing with his life lately. Well, I'm enjoying college (I'm in my sophomore year) more than any other period of my life. I'm having a thoroughly terrific time choosing my own courses, living away from home, eating school food (yum!). I take courses like philosophy, political science, theater arts, and biology. I took calculus during my freshman year. Definitely not my calling. In addition to enjoying the social and academic scenes at college, I'm also on the debating team, I take ballroom dancing, I'm in a coed fraternity, and I'm in a number of political groups. I recently cast my first presidential vote after working for my candidate's campaign. (I won't say who I voted for, but you can probably guess.) Here are the answers (and only the answers) to the questions I get asked most often: No, I can't stand "Beverly Hills 90210." Yeah, I'm an excellent driver. Actually, I'm majoring in biomedical ethics. Oh, my career after college? I haven't the foggiest clue. No, I only spin plates during really boring physics lectures. Sorry, I'm busy this Friday night. Speaking of questions and answers, I have talked with parents of special children from many different countries and throughout the US, and I've had the chance to answer scores of their questions and ask some questions of my own, as well. They all want the best for their child; they all have a strong desire to help their child in any way they can. Many of these families also see their own or their child's situation as horrific. In addition, they want to be "realistic" and not pretend that their child's situation or potential is better than it actually is. It makes perfect sense to me that parents would think this way, but there are other ways of looking at things that might be more productive as well as more fun.

Personally, I see autistic children as possessing a unique talent and ability, not a deficiency. When this talent and ability are embraced instead of viewed with horror, some amazing things can happen. Kids can make leaps people never thought possible. As for being realistic, it's not all it's cracked up to be. Very often, I wonder how I can be realistic and optimistic at the same time. How can I have boundless hope and aspirations and still keep a down-to-earth perspective on things? Well, many times I can't. Sometimes I choose realism, and when I do, I can always be sure that nothing that happens will exceed my expectations. But when I choose limitless optimism, I don't put any ceilings on my dreams and goals, and, as a result, sometimes I get more and do more than I ever could have accomplished by being realistic. The telephone, the automobile, the polio vaccine - the people who brought these things into being were extremely unrealistic. Realism only preserves the status quo. Nothing was ever accomplished by a realist. Every great discovery and achievement in history is the fault of unrealistic people. My parents' lack of realism is what got me to the place I am now. Consequently, I try never to tell anyone around me to be realistic. Sometimes, when I think about the continuing savage violence around the world and the pervasive racism in America, I have a hard time being optimistic. Plastered all over my wall in my dorm room are pictures of Bobby Kennedy, my favorite person in history. War and racism were also major concerns for him, but he never let the state of the world bring him down. So when I think of the things I want to be different in the world and I think about being unrealistic and I think about hope, I try to keep a quote of Bobby Kennedy's tucked in the back of my mind: "Some see the world as it is and say, 'Why?' I see the world as it could be and say, 'Why not?'" You can always say, "Why not?" when you're told you can't accomplish something. You can always say, "So what?" when evidence is presented against your dreams. You can always say, "It's possible" when you have a different vision for your child. Your potential is limitless, so don't give up. You have more greatness than you might think.

Editorial Reviews

From Publishers Weekly

The original Son-Rise (1976) described the family trauma of the author, his wife Samahria and their son Raun, who had been diagnosed as autistic, mentally retarded and untreatable. Rather than relegating Raun to permanent institutionalization, the Kaufmans designed a program of their own, which provided intensive therapy on a rigorous schedule that changed all of their lives. Did Raun continue to progress? In this book, that question is answered not only by the parents and extended family but also by Raun himself, now a college student and a participant in the family's educational foundation, The Option Institute and Fellowship, based in Sheffield, Mass. Testimonials from similarly afflicted families who practice the Kaufmans' techniques for treating the communications disorders of so-called "unreachable" children round out a heartwarming, inspiring chronicle that should offer hope to many. 50,000 first printing; $50,000 ad/promo.
Copyright 1993 Reed Business Information, Inc. --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.

From Booklist

Kaufman, head of the Options Institute in Massachusetts, traces the difficulties he and his wife, Samahria, experienced with their autistic son, Raun. Readers first encountered Raun in 1976, with Kaufman's Son-Rise, and raising him--fighting a glum medical establishment and dubious child-care professionals--would have proved a daunting, even a hopeless, task for most. But the Kaufmans refused to be "realistic," insisting that Raun was truly special in their eyes and in God's, and with patience and cleverness, they broke through into Raun's deeply personal world. They steered him so much into the mainstream that he is in college now, an extrovert who contributed the introduction to his father's book. In fact, he writes better than his father, unaffectedly expressing his gratitude to his parents and his optimism for the future. The elder Kaufman has a terrific tale to tell, and his accounts of others who have benefited from his methods will make the reader grateful he and his wife are on the planet, but his incessant use of stock self-help and recovery phrases, such as, "I built barricades around my feelings" or "I had the opportunity to share personally," has a cloying effect. The message of this miracle-in-everyday-life book is nothing more than: Be optimistic. How you get to such a simple and joyous outlook is the problem; Raun's story, and that of his patient, loving parents, perhaps will instruct you. John Mort --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.

See all Editorial Reviews

Product Details

• Paperback: 372 pages
• Publisher: HJ Kramer (February 23, 1995)
• Language: English
• ISBN-10: 0915811618
• ISBN-13: 978-0915811618
• Product Dimensions: 9 x 6 x 1 inches
• Shipping Weight: 1.2 pounds (View shipping rates and policies)
• Average Customer Review: 4.4 out of 5 stars  See all reviews (28 customer reviews)
• Amazon Best Sellers Rank: #184,876 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)

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Customer Reviews

Most Helpful Customer Reviews

36 of 40 people found the following review helpful:

5.0 out of 5 stars To parents of special-needs children, June 26, 2005

By 

S. Sreedhar "Sree" (Michigan (USA)) - See all my reviews

This review is from: Son Rise: The Miracle Continues (Paperback)

As you read all the reviews of this book here, I suggest you take a moment to mentally classify the reviewers into two categories: (1) parents who decided after reading this book to adopt the Son-Rise method for their autistic children, and (2) everybody else.

You'll notice a clear difference - the parents are all UNANIMOUS in their approval of this book and the program, while the rest offer a mixed bag - some approval, sure, but a lot of criticism, cynicism, condescension, outright ridicule, and some cheap shots. All are personal viewpoints, and therefore equally valid perspectives. But if you're reading this book not as a literary exercise, but in search of an effective way to help your child, that difference should send you a crystal-clear message.

My personal viewpoint: I picked up this book almost three years ago (6 months after having had my son diagnosed with autism), and I finished it in one sitting (ending well past midnight). Within a day or two my wife and I called the Institute, signed up for their training program and haven't looked back since. Our son, who was totally non-verbal at age 3, now has a large & growing vocabulary, speaks in 5-10 word sentences, and is interacting socially, learning freely and living joyfully. And along the way, it has also transformed our family's experience of life. Not that I was the New Age type - I'm an engineer, the skeptical, numbers-guy kind. Thank goodness I could recognize the genuine article when I see it. I don't care if Son-Rise doesn't quote the statistics some people demand - my son is the only statistic I need.

The difference between the perspectives of a player on the field and a spectator in the stands can be seen in the following quotes from Rivkah McCaby's review:
* "Imitation Therapy" - if this is a reference to the practice of `joining', it reflects a very shallow understanding of this foundational pillar of the Son-Rise method.
* "Their institute is the temple of a personality cult": Oh, come on! Somebody who has spent a week there wouldn't be saying this.
* "This isn't going to be very helpful to most 21st century families looking for help with an autistic child ...", "... most parents today don't have the time and money the Kaufmans had, but they do have the resources of public funding, Medicaid, and established programs ...", "... but love is not the reason this therapy works...": Maybe these statements are true and maybe they aren't, but who would know better than someone running a Son-Rise program for their child?

23 of 26 people found the following review helpful:

5.0 out of 5 stars This book taught me not to be afraid, allowed my dd to love, October 8, 2005

By 

Tracy Jayasinghe (Los Angeles) - See all my reviews
(REAL NAME)   

This review is from: Son Rise: The Miracle Continues (Paperback)

When my daughter was diagnosed with autism at 22 months, I was depressed and scared. I did search after search and read method after method for treating autism. Nothing "felt" right. The therapies based on behaviorism seemed to rob children of dignity. Then I found the Option Institute website.

I read all they had published online and got the rest from the library system. After reading their autism books, I felt I understood what I needed to do to help her. I would have liked to go to their program, but there was no way I could leave her to attend.

I implemented my understanding of their program. You know what? Within two months she said, "I love you, Mommy." It was the first time in my parenting journey I had heard my child say that. That was eight years ago. I did the program alone for about six months. She did great. Now, she is not "cured." She is doing very well, though.

I was driven to look for the book again, as my four-year-old son was diagnosed with autism this week and I'm feeling that thing that parents feel when they get this news (again).

For those who say Son-Rise is about money, you can read this book at the library and get help. How much does that cost? You can pay the $10 or $15 for the book here on Amazon. You are out $10 to $15. If you read the book and want to go to the center; go for it. The people I know who have done that feel the money was well spent.

For the reviewer who wants the name of a child who was cured, I'd give you mine, but it was not a complete cure. I am going to go back and start a program again with her (what the heck, I'm going to do a program with my son, anyway). When we started my self-designed program based on Son-Rise, my daughter made no eye contact, couldn't look in mirrors, had no communicative speech, and no normal response to stimuli. We saw huge changes within the first week. I still get emotional when I remember her telling me she loved me for the first time.

I thought I was providing a loving, nurturing environment for her before son-rise, but her remarkable progress with son-rise showed me she needed more. It was amazing how, when she would bite her arms and I would bite mine in response, she would stop and look at me and be able to move on to something better.

This book, and others by Kaufman, taught me not to be afraid of autism. The program advocated in this book allowed my daughter to keep her dignity and learn to join the mainstream.

18 of 20 people found the following review helpful:

5.0 out of 5 stars This is a very special perspective on autism., September 12, 2004

By 

Lauren Ware "writer & mother" - See all my reviews
(REAL NAME)   

This review is from: Son Rise: The Miracle Continues (Paperback)

I have been working with my autistic son using floortime and developmental approaches, which are very similar to what Kaufman describes in this book - you join your child, you focus on creating meaningful interaction between the two of you, you engage your child and gently draw him into your world rather than forcing him into it. While I don't think I'd pay thousands for someone to show me this, the book is quite cheap and really all you need to get the idea of what they did.

The critical piece for me was the utter acceptance of your child for who he or she is. Love is unconditional. Too often, even if we don't intend to give this message, children with special needs or differences can feel like we only love them if they recover or if they become verbal or if they stop stimming, or whatever it is that we are working on. The Kaufmans' approach has as its bedrock unconditional love and acceptance. It is the balance of this love with the striving for more - for the child to reach his greatest potential - that many reviewers missed as the core message of the book. They are not mutually exclusive. The author never once insinuates that a person should "feel badly" if their child doesn't make a full "recovery," or if they didn't do everything just as the Kaufmans did.

The point is not, "follow this method and your child will also recover from autism." It is simply to love and be with your child, to tune into his needs, and from there your child will grow and blossom to his greatest capacity. And wherever that is - on the spectrum or off - is just fine. Process, not product, is emphasized.

I had to put the book down at first because Kaufman's style reeked of New Agey feelings. I keep telling my husband, "I like this book a lot even though it's so wacky." If you can get past that, the message is a pure one.