Tuesday – The Education Rabbit Hole
Sep. 7th, 2010 01:04 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ninanevermore.
.
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On Friday my husband and I met with my son’s teachers and principal to discuss the “problems they have observed” since he started school two weeks ago. I was expecting the meeting to take place in the principal’s office, but instead we met in my son’s classroom and sat at one of the six-sided tables the children gather around to learn at. The fact that 5 adults were sitting at a table on chairs made for 5 year olds added an air of levity and surrealality to the whole thing, which I kind of liked. The principal, Theresa, is easily as tall as my husband (about 6 feet), so there was an Alice-In-Wonderland air to the whole thing, like they had both eaten from the cake labeled “Eat Me” and had grown too large for their surroundings. Down here at 5 feet tall, I am embarrassed to admit the little chair and short table were not all really too small for me at all.
Sweet Pea has been a little terror, it seems, most of it stemming from his hair-trigger temper. His teacher, Mrs. F., usually distracts him when she sees he is about to lose it, but last week (when he had to be removed from the classroom) he could not be distracted at all and went into full blown “meltdown” mode with screaming, kicking, throwing his shoes, and the like. None of his classmates were hurt, but I think the teacher and the principal both got scratched.
Jeff and I were properly apologetic. We discussed his background, including his bad experience in his last daycare. He seems to be having a post-traumatic response to school: he is once again in a classroom with a teacher; the last time he was in a place like this, very bad things happened to him. This time, instead of waiting for the very bad things to happen again he is on edge and acts out in reaction to things that have not happened yet but that he thinks might. His motto is Better Sorry than Safe.
He complains that the other kids are “bothering him.” Apparently, all they are really doing is standing close to him. But this alone bothers him, and he goes ballistic. Then there is the fact that he refuses to sit still for “circle time” and runs around the classroom when he is supposed to be sitting still and quiet.
“Circle time is much boring,” he told me later when I asked about this. “I don’t like it.” At some point he must have asked what much means, and was told it means the same things as very. Now he uses them interchangeably. The same thing happened with the word type and I told him it means the same things as kind. This led to a year of his saying things like, It’s a type of hard when he found a task to be difficult.
If he raises his hand and doesn’t get picked, he flies into a rage. If someone corrects him and points out he is not behaving right, he reacts the way a normal person might if you hit them in the face. If someone is playing with a toy he wants to play with and won’t give it up, they are liable to get attacked.
It occurs to us that 2 years ago, our son was the victim of bullying. He learned the lesson a little too well, and now it seems he has assumed that role himself. There are drawbacks to having a bright child who picks things up easily: sometimes they cling to lessons you would rather they dropped.
His teacher and principal were very kind and understanding. Theresa suggested we speak to the counselor and sign release forms for Sweet Pea to meet with her twice a week (he is already acquainted with her, having had to be talked out of a tantrum on a few occasions). He knows her as the lady who makes him take deep breath and count. There is also a school psychiatrist who can observe him and make recommendations, we were told. We signed those release forms, too.
“But…this isn’t something you haven’t seen before, is it?” Jeff asked. “I mean, you’ve worked with a lot of kids. You have to have encountered some others…”
Mrs. F. and Theresa laughed. “Oh, yes,” Theresa said. “We’ve seen plenty. This is not something we haven’t dealt with before.”
“So he’s not the worst you’ve ever seen?” I asked.
They said no, but they weren’t really laughing any more when they said it. They looked reassuring, but sad, too. Damn it. This tells me they think there is a lot of work ahead and the results are not guaranteed.
Starting this week, all of the kids will be bringing home conduct reports. We will have a better idea of what is going on and there should be no more surprises of thinking everything is fine when it is anything but. We have been working on anger management at home, too. The little man has a temper the likes of which I’ve never seen before, and he must learn to control it along with other not-acceptable impulses. I don’t think there is anything that can be done to make circle time not be “much boring,” but he has to learn to sit still and endure it. Daydreaming has always worked for me. Maybe he can try that.
After Mrs. F.’s conference hour was up, Theresa walked us down to the counselor’s office. On the way out, Jeff noticed the door stop to the kindergarten classroom: Standing on the wedge pushed under the door, with its paws up like they were pressed up against the wood, was a life-sized statue of a mouse. “That’s cute,” he said, pointing to the little statue.
I smiled. “A Door Mouse! Get it? Like the dormouse in Alice in Wonderland?”
“Yes, dear. I get it,” he said, stretching himself out after having spent the last hour sitting crouched in a miniature chair with his knees up against the edge of a miniature table. We followed Theresa down to the counselor’s office, across the hall from what looks like a giant pothos plant climbing the cinderblock wall toward the skylight in the roof. The plant looks very much like the one sitting above my desk at work, except that some of the leaves were the size of serving platters. I wondered how it got so big.
Maybe it didn't. Maybe it's me. Maybe I drank from a bottle I shouldn’t have.
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * # * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
.
.
On Friday my husband and I met with my son’s teachers and principal to discuss the “problems they have observed” since he started school two weeks ago. I was expecting the meeting to take place in the principal’s office, but instead we met in my son’s classroom and sat at one of the six-sided tables the children gather around to learn at. The fact that 5 adults were sitting at a table on chairs made for 5 year olds added an air of levity and surrealality to the whole thing, which I kind of liked. The principal, Theresa, is easily as tall as my husband (about 6 feet), so there was an Alice-In-Wonderland air to the whole thing, like they had both eaten from the cake labeled “Eat Me” and had grown too large for their surroundings. Down here at 5 feet tall, I am embarrassed to admit the little chair and short table were not all really too small for me at all.
Sweet Pea has been a little terror, it seems, most of it stemming from his hair-trigger temper. His teacher, Mrs. F., usually distracts him when she sees he is about to lose it, but last week (when he had to be removed from the classroom) he could not be distracted at all and went into full blown “meltdown” mode with screaming, kicking, throwing his shoes, and the like. None of his classmates were hurt, but I think the teacher and the principal both got scratched.
Jeff and I were properly apologetic. We discussed his background, including his bad experience in his last daycare. He seems to be having a post-traumatic response to school: he is once again in a classroom with a teacher; the last time he was in a place like this, very bad things happened to him. This time, instead of waiting for the very bad things to happen again he is on edge and acts out in reaction to things that have not happened yet but that he thinks might. His motto is Better Sorry than Safe.
He complains that the other kids are “bothering him.” Apparently, all they are really doing is standing close to him. But this alone bothers him, and he goes ballistic. Then there is the fact that he refuses to sit still for “circle time” and runs around the classroom when he is supposed to be sitting still and quiet.
“Circle time is much boring,” he told me later when I asked about this. “I don’t like it.” At some point he must have asked what much means, and was told it means the same things as very. Now he uses them interchangeably. The same thing happened with the word type and I told him it means the same things as kind. This led to a year of his saying things like, It’s a type of hard when he found a task to be difficult.
If he raises his hand and doesn’t get picked, he flies into a rage. If someone corrects him and points out he is not behaving right, he reacts the way a normal person might if you hit them in the face. If someone is playing with a toy he wants to play with and won’t give it up, they are liable to get attacked.
It occurs to us that 2 years ago, our son was the victim of bullying. He learned the lesson a little too well, and now it seems he has assumed that role himself. There are drawbacks to having a bright child who picks things up easily: sometimes they cling to lessons you would rather they dropped.
His teacher and principal were very kind and understanding. Theresa suggested we speak to the counselor and sign release forms for Sweet Pea to meet with her twice a week (he is already acquainted with her, having had to be talked out of a tantrum on a few occasions). He knows her as the lady who makes him take deep breath and count. There is also a school psychiatrist who can observe him and make recommendations, we were told. We signed those release forms, too.
“But…this isn’t something you haven’t seen before, is it?” Jeff asked. “I mean, you’ve worked with a lot of kids. You have to have encountered some others…”
Mrs. F. and Theresa laughed. “Oh, yes,” Theresa said. “We’ve seen plenty. This is not something we haven’t dealt with before.”
“So he’s not the worst you’ve ever seen?” I asked.
They said no, but they weren’t really laughing any more when they said it. They looked reassuring, but sad, too. Damn it. This tells me they think there is a lot of work ahead and the results are not guaranteed.
Starting this week, all of the kids will be bringing home conduct reports. We will have a better idea of what is going on and there should be no more surprises of thinking everything is fine when it is anything but. We have been working on anger management at home, too. The little man has a temper the likes of which I’ve never seen before, and he must learn to control it along with other not-acceptable impulses. I don’t think there is anything that can be done to make circle time not be “much boring,” but he has to learn to sit still and endure it. Daydreaming has always worked for me. Maybe he can try that.
After Mrs. F.’s conference hour was up, Theresa walked us down to the counselor’s office. On the way out, Jeff noticed the door stop to the kindergarten classroom: Standing on the wedge pushed under the door, with its paws up like they were pressed up against the wood, was a life-sized statue of a mouse. “That’s cute,” he said, pointing to the little statue.
I smiled. “A Door Mouse! Get it? Like the dormouse in Alice in Wonderland?”
“Yes, dear. I get it,” he said, stretching himself out after having spent the last hour sitting crouched in a miniature chair with his knees up against the edge of a miniature table. We followed Theresa down to the counselor’s office, across the hall from what looks like a giant pothos plant climbing the cinderblock wall toward the skylight in the roof. The plant looks very much like the one sitting above my desk at work, except that some of the leaves were the size of serving platters. I wondered how it got so big.
Maybe it didn't. Maybe it's me. Maybe I drank from a bottle I shouldn’t have.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-09-07 11:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-07 11:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-08 12:09 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-08 12:39 am (UTC)I have an idea of what the issue is; I just need to see what I can do to get him tested so we can start working through it. Until then, it's going to be a long next few months. o_O
no subject
Date: 2010-09-07 11:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-07 11:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-08 12:00 am (UTC)I will say this -- Be wary of labels and those who want to pin them on your child.
no subject
Date: 2010-09-08 12:57 am (UTC)Then he was absolutely fine.
I suspect a sensory disorder (I've been doing some research). If I'm right, it is treatable with occupational therapy to desensitize him and teach him how to cope with stimuli that most people can just ignore but that overwhelm him for some reason. If I'm wrong, then I'm willing to listen to other suggestions the experts might have. But at the rate things are going, he is not learning much and neither are his classmates. There are going to be a lot of raw nerves by the time we finally figure out what's going on.
no subject
Date: 2010-09-08 12:36 pm (UTC)All in all, do you feel good about the meeting? And about the people/way they suggest moving forward?
no subject
Date: 2010-09-08 01:16 pm (UTC)Yesterday was not a good day for him. He bit his elementary school principal. Not a good day at all. :P