And so...

I’m dying over here. I need to unload. I haven’t written anything in a long time. Maybe this will help. I started to write “Parenting is nuts” and then I realized that was a lame way to start out. So I right-clicked for synonyms on the word “crazy” and here’s what I got: foolish, silly, unwise, senseless, irrational, wild, cracked, and stupid.

Touché. 

We’ve all read the blogs and stories about how judgy you had been before you popped out your own offspring, and now that you have your own spawn, you “get it.” Just like that… click… what a bitch you had been! You seriously had no idea it would be this hard. Don’t you feel completely shitty about the way you looked down your nose at your sister for not being able to keep her car clear of Goldfish crumbs and broken McDonald’s toys? Don’t you cringe at how snotty you were thinking you’d handle that temper tantrum so differently? No. Wait. Your kids wouldn’t even throw fits to begin with! Because if they did… ooooh man!

Yeah, that was me. I had the experience of being an aunt before being a mom. I had a BA in Elementary Education and a Concentration in Special Education under my belt. I’d taught kids with all kinds of special needs – from ASD to ODD, ADHD to LD, ED, PDD, and any other acronym ending with a “D” and lots of others without one. So, right. I probably would have easy children of my own. Because how unfair would it be to bestow upon a special educator a child with as many quirky needs as the children she has spent the day teaching? And really, if there were any challenges along the way, I’d have a quick fix in my back pocket because I’m an amazing teacher. Did I mention all the experience?

And then … reality.

And then… extra reality.

I just drafted an email to my kid’s principal. I haven’t hit send yet. I’m afraid to. For one, I would like to possibly work there one day… potentially, maybe… and I don’t want to have the stigma attached to me that I have a child with issues. Or that I am a problem parent that criticizes the administration for their efforts to correct my unruly kid. So basically I’m terrified of being judged. Duh. And then there’s this whole 75% of me in denial of the fact that there was even this problem to begin with. Maybe I shouldn’t call it “denial.” I totally recognize he acted like an asshole and when they called me up to tell me what he had done, it’s not like I was surprised. It sounded just like something he’d do. Hell, I can even imagine the expression on his face as he was doing it.

But he’s not unruly. He’s got issues. Issues that require a psychological evaluation. Issues that probably mean he needs medicine to be able to process the world at the same pace and with the same attention as most of the rest of us. Issues that I didn’t truly believe in until now. This is where I stick a hashtag, right? #perspective

So here it is. The letter I haven’t sent yet. Oh, and it’s written as if my husband wrote it… because I’m a big fat chicken.

Hi there!

My wife and I were a little concerned about Flint, today. When he came home, he said that he had to miss recess and sit with Mrs. Ledger. When I asked why, he explained that it was because of what happened last week. He was rather confused, and we were too. We definitely want Flint to experience consequences and we feel like consistency and structure are both necessary and good for him. However, the behavior warranting a consequence was something that occurred 4 days prior. For a student who struggles to connect his behavior to the consequences that immediately follow, this seemed to be a rather large and unrealistic stretch. 

Additionally, as a student with impulsive behaviors, moderate hyperactivity and simply "being a kindergartner," the benefits of recess likely outweigh the potential benefits of sitting out as a consequence. I'm sure you've read these studies. And honestly, if this type of "time out" were something that worked for him, you can be sure he wouldn't still be having impulsive aggression issues. He simply does not draw a connection, and as Mrs. S. has also noted, he does not show remorse for his actions. To him, it is something that is just happening and not something that resulted from his actions or choices. 

We feel it is likely more effective for him to be seated away from peers, as that certainly is a consequence that matches the behavior of hurting others. If he cannot refrain from hurting others, he should not be seated near them. Makes sense. This is something Mrs. S. noted today, and he earned a "green" in his behavior chart.

We appreciate all you are doing to help our son learn these character lessons that seem to be such a struggle, and we appreciate the frequent communication as well, so we wanted to share our concerns and make sure we are on the same page. We've been experiencing these symptoms for a while, now, and have only just begun the official diagnostic process, which will hopefully help us help him! Of course, if he miscommunicated with us about what happened, we would definitely like to know that as well!

Thanks so much!

Luke (but really it’s Emily pretending to be Luke)

ADHD was never the disability that I wanted to focus on as a special educator. It annoyed me. In fact, I only believed it was even a “real diagnosis” some of the time. And for those students, it was definitely a thing. I had students who were “classic” AD(H)Ders. These are the ones who, on days where they didn’t have their medication, you could tell instantly. Their eyes were either glassed over while they retreated inward to whatever world-of-a-million-thoughts-all-at-once they were in, or they were darting every which way while they squirmed in their student-seats-of-too-much-sitting, appearing as though they may crawl out of their own skin at any moment. These were the ones that would have me stumped as an educator. What in the world could I possibly do to help them get in control long enough to learn something? Is this who they truly are? Is the medicated version the real one? Does this kid even know?

This might be the disability with the fewest clear and concrete solutions. The problems facing these kids are complicated and not clearly identifiable. Difficult to discern. No bueno. Give me something I can work with more substantially.

So, I’m here, now, with my own boy. I am hoping somewhere in there I can find the real Flint. Over the course of the last year or so, he’s been kind of buried. It’s been longer than that, but in the last year it’s just gotten so much worse. His behaviors have become his identity. Even when we are around close family, if anyone is talking about Flint or interacting with Flint, his over-emotionality and his impulsivity and his distractibility are the focus. It’s hard not to focus on them because they make up so much of who he has become. I used to be able to describe him. His personality. It feels dramatic to say it that way.

We meet with the psychologist Friday to go over his evaluation. I know she will have answers and recommendations. I don’t really want them. But then again I do.

And so this foolish, silly, unwise, senseless, irrational, wild, cracked, and stupid adventure begins.