Wednesday – Where the Kids Have No Names
Sep. 29th, 2010 04:19 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ninanevermore.
.
.
With one exceptions, Sweet Pea does not know any of the names of the children in his class, or so he says when we ask him. It has been 6 weeks since he first started kindergarten. Well, he knows one name, now: the name of the little boy he bit on the playground yesterday. His teacher called to tell me about the bite. We spoke as I drove from my office to Sweet Pea's school. I mentioned that he does not know the names of the other children, not even the names of those who sit at this table.
"It's too hard to remember," he said. He gets very upset when we ask him, like he is worried we will be dissappointed in him for this.
I suggested to his teacher that if he learned the names of the kids, he wouldn't be so panicked everyday and feel like he is surrounded by strangers. I couldn't promise that it would help, but I thought it might. I wondered if she could maybe send a picture of the kids at his table and a list of their first names, so we could practice them at home.
"Really?" Mrs. F. said. "I didn't realize that he hadn't learned any of their names. That surprises me. We can find a way to work on that in class. Ask him about the little boy he bit today. I would be surprised if he doesn't know that child's name." She asked me to send a little note in his folder to let her know whether he did or not.
There are some who think that after an incident like that, I should have picked him up from school and let into him. Back when he was in daycare, I tried that a few times. I tried every kind of lecture and punishment technique I could think of. They didn't work. What works with him is to stay calm. There are punishments, but they have to be handed out calmly, too. No television or computer, for example, works well. I approached the subject matter of factly. I did not ask him if he bit anyone; I let him know that I already knew.
"What is the name of the little boy you bit on the playground today?" I asked, the same way I might ask, What would you like for supper tonight?
"I don't remember," he said. I glanced in the rearview mirror; he was pulling his legs up in his booster seat, trying to curl up like a scared armadillo.
"Yes you do, baby. What's his name?"
"It's too embarrassing to say," he said in a small voice.
"No it's not. Tell me."
I heard an unintelligible, short response.
"I didn't hear you. What is his name?"
"Jack!" he said louder.
Jack? Are there still boys named Jack in the world? I thought all the boys around here were named Justin and Tyler and Josh. "Why did you bite Jack on the playground?"
He buried his face in his knees. "He was bothering me." I have come to learn that this doesn't mean the other child actually did anything to him. Sweet Pea has a very rigid space bubble around him. When he is agitated, most people stepping inside of this space bubble are viewed and treated with hostility. Family members are exempt. With us, he stiffens up like a little soldier with his arms straight down to his side in fists, but he doesn't attack us.
"What are you supposed to do if someone makes you angry?"
"Walk away." He sounded miserable. We have had this conversation before.
"Are you allowed to hurt them?"
"No." The answer was a little squeak. "How did you know?"
"Your teacher called me. She has to call me any time something like this happens. It's the law. They have to let the mom and dad know what happened."
He doesn't like this rule one bit. In his mind, school should be like Las Vegas and what happens there should stay there.
He got another lecture from his father when we got home, this one not quite as calm as mine. It occurred to me that the playground has no designated quiet spots like the "safe place" he has for cooling off in his classroom. I suggested that he could make a quiet spot wherever he needs one: that when he's in a place with no quiet spot like the library or the playground, he can pick out a place before he gets mad that can be his quiet spot if he needs it. He thought about that and agreed it might be a good idea, but I'm not sure if he will remember. I will need to suggest that his teachers help him find these portable quiet spots in the places that don't have them.
So it wasn't a very good day for Sweet Pea at school yesterday. Monday had been his best day ever, with no trips to the principal's office. His teacher had sent a glowing note home saying what a great day he's had. We all have our ups and downs, I guess. For some of us they are like gentle waves on a lake when the weather is mild and not windy. For people like my 6 year old, they are like one of those roller coasters that you can't ride unless you are at least as tall as the clown's hand, and that pregnant women and people with heart conditions are advised not to ride at all.
On the bright side, at least he finally leaned the name of a classmate. The boy he bit is named Jack. I guess that's some sort of progress, right?
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * # * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
.
.
With one exceptions, Sweet Pea does not know any of the names of the children in his class, or so he says when we ask him. It has been 6 weeks since he first started kindergarten. Well, he knows one name, now: the name of the little boy he bit on the playground yesterday. His teacher called to tell me about the bite. We spoke as I drove from my office to Sweet Pea's school. I mentioned that he does not know the names of the other children, not even the names of those who sit at this table.
"It's too hard to remember," he said. He gets very upset when we ask him, like he is worried we will be dissappointed in him for this.
I suggested to his teacher that if he learned the names of the kids, he wouldn't be so panicked everyday and feel like he is surrounded by strangers. I couldn't promise that it would help, but I thought it might. I wondered if she could maybe send a picture of the kids at his table and a list of their first names, so we could practice them at home.
"Really?" Mrs. F. said. "I didn't realize that he hadn't learned any of their names. That surprises me. We can find a way to work on that in class. Ask him about the little boy he bit today. I would be surprised if he doesn't know that child's name." She asked me to send a little note in his folder to let her know whether he did or not.
There are some who think that after an incident like that, I should have picked him up from school and let into him. Back when he was in daycare, I tried that a few times. I tried every kind of lecture and punishment technique I could think of. They didn't work. What works with him is to stay calm. There are punishments, but they have to be handed out calmly, too. No television or computer, for example, works well. I approached the subject matter of factly. I did not ask him if he bit anyone; I let him know that I already knew.
"What is the name of the little boy you bit on the playground today?" I asked, the same way I might ask, What would you like for supper tonight?
"I don't remember," he said. I glanced in the rearview mirror; he was pulling his legs up in his booster seat, trying to curl up like a scared armadillo.
"Yes you do, baby. What's his name?"
"It's too embarrassing to say," he said in a small voice.
"No it's not. Tell me."
I heard an unintelligible, short response.
"I didn't hear you. What is his name?"
"Jack!" he said louder.
Jack? Are there still boys named Jack in the world? I thought all the boys around here were named Justin and Tyler and Josh. "Why did you bite Jack on the playground?"
He buried his face in his knees. "He was bothering me." I have come to learn that this doesn't mean the other child actually did anything to him. Sweet Pea has a very rigid space bubble around him. When he is agitated, most people stepping inside of this space bubble are viewed and treated with hostility. Family members are exempt. With us, he stiffens up like a little soldier with his arms straight down to his side in fists, but he doesn't attack us.
"What are you supposed to do if someone makes you angry?"
"Walk away." He sounded miserable. We have had this conversation before.
"Are you allowed to hurt them?"
"No." The answer was a little squeak. "How did you know?"
"Your teacher called me. She has to call me any time something like this happens. It's the law. They have to let the mom and dad know what happened."
He doesn't like this rule one bit. In his mind, school should be like Las Vegas and what happens there should stay there.
He got another lecture from his father when we got home, this one not quite as calm as mine. It occurred to me that the playground has no designated quiet spots like the "safe place" he has for cooling off in his classroom. I suggested that he could make a quiet spot wherever he needs one: that when he's in a place with no quiet spot like the library or the playground, he can pick out a place before he gets mad that can be his quiet spot if he needs it. He thought about that and agreed it might be a good idea, but I'm not sure if he will remember. I will need to suggest that his teachers help him find these portable quiet spots in the places that don't have them.
So it wasn't a very good day for Sweet Pea at school yesterday. Monday had been his best day ever, with no trips to the principal's office. His teacher had sent a glowing note home saying what a great day he's had. We all have our ups and downs, I guess. For some of us they are like gentle waves on a lake when the weather is mild and not windy. For people like my 6 year old, they are like one of those roller coasters that you can't ride unless you are at least as tall as the clown's hand, and that pregnant women and people with heart conditions are advised not to ride at all.
On the bright side, at least he finally leaned the name of a classmate. The boy he bit is named Jack. I guess that's some sort of progress, right?
