Have you ever had one of those days where it took everything you had not to break down and cry? I mean, over anything--regardless of its significance? Well, that was my day today.
I'm sure it's a combination of female hormones, lack of sleep and a variety of different stressors carrying over from the weekend: playing 4 soccer games in a single-day tournament, out of town guests, work, kids, husband...the list goes on and on as it does for most of us. Even good stress is stress. So although I had a truly awesome weekend full of adventure and love, I'm officially pooped and the tears wouldn't stop today. And something in particular kept setting them off.
Alder came home last Thursday and informed me he wasn't allowed to go to recess. He could barely speak to me. His eyes blinked hard and fast, deep breaths in and out, he had to take a self imposed "time out" to gather his thoughts before he was able to explain what happened. These are typical physical responses for Alder when he's really struggling through something. And because he still suffers from auditory processing issues, it's difficult for him to completely provide a clear picture of any event. When the way you see and experience the world is different from the rest of us, it's obviously hard to explain.
Alder disclosed that he didn't finish his schoolwork so he had to stay in from recess to finish it. On the surface this seems like a natural consequence for not completing his work--work before play is often a mindset we support in our home. Perhaps he was goofing off? Maybe he wasn't listening? But that's out of character for him, especially in a classroom setting. Alder LOVES to get work done. He's a diligent worker and so long as the instructions are clear and he remains in a supportive environment with clear expectations and boundaries and where it's ok for him to make mistakes, Alder typically thrives. And that's been his experience at this particular school in his past 2 years.
I'm not attacking his current teacher. I'm sure she's a good fit for some children. Boundaries and strict rules can be important when it comes to managing and educating a room full of children. But her disposition is hard. Crass even. And sometimes, perhaps not always, appears to come without compassion for others. Alder has a sense for this type of behavior and is not only resistant to it, he absolutely cannot function in it.
Fast forward one week. I have received multiple reports of Alder crying at lunch, at recess, in the after school program. He's appearing sad and forlorn to certain staff who he typically relates to and confides in. He's tearful and resistant in the mornings before school. This was a child who claimed to be "a star" at his school. And now he's freaking out about "getting in trouble" for eating breakfast at school. He called me on Wednesday to pick him up because he claimed to be "a tiny afraid and nervous" about his teacher. Enter Mama Bear...
Do I think his teacher is a horrible monger? NO! Do I think she's mean? Maybe. But I, too, can be mean at times. Here's what I suspect is going on: Alder is a sensitive guy who's made tremendous progress. From barely being able to sing "happy birthday" 3 years ago to thriving in a "normal" classroom is nothing shy of a miracle. And I am unwilling to compromise his progress. Period. If I let that slip I send him the message that his hard work isn't valuable since I'm willing to put him in a position to compromise it. His past two school years he was loved and supported by incredibly kind and tolerant teachers (um, should there REALLY be any other kind of teacher???). This year that is not his classroom environment. He spends each day in his classroom ridden with fear and crippled with anxiety. There is only one 2nd grade class in his small school. Limited options. What to do? What to do?
After a pit-stained meeting with the principal, superintendent and head of special education, it was suggested to me that Alder receive a constant aid in the classroom to help him "cope." This was after numerous accounts of other children's "success stories" with said particular teacher. We live in a small town, folks. Despite the alleged successes of other students the point here is bing missed: this child was wildly successful until he became fearful of his teacher. A child cannot learn in an environment where their fight or flight mechanism is constantly triggered. There are 9 children in the classroom. Is patience and kindness to each student beyond the scope of a qualified professional? That is not a rhetorical question.
I'm not angry with his teacher. I feel compassion for her. No one can exist in a hardened place without unfortunate life experiences that put them their. And this isn't a simple case of a personality conflict between me, my child and his teacher. I believe everyone deserves a fare shake without preconceived notions and fully without judgement. But this school situation is clearly not working for Alder. And it's not working for me. And I'm just not willing to lay my child's future on the line because a teacher isn't willing to meet a student's emotional needs and an administration is unwilling to recognize a problem within its system. It is truly that serious.
So we're uncertain what lies ahead for Alder and school. It's not all that different from everything else on our path. Our entire journey with him we've been uncertain about the outcome. We've run on a combo of faith, hope, ambition and caffeine. Lots of caffeine. The kind of energy it takes to function in unfamiliar waters can be fueled by little other than the sheer desire to see your child succeed and straight shots of caffeine.
I'm not driven by certainty. This journey has really made me fully aware that nothing is for certain. And although the road ahead appears bumpy, I'm not afraid. Because I'm not the first to choose the road less traveled by. So I know it's what makes all the difference.
I'm sure it's a combination of female hormones, lack of sleep and a variety of different stressors carrying over from the weekend: playing 4 soccer games in a single-day tournament, out of town guests, work, kids, husband...the list goes on and on as it does for most of us. Even good stress is stress. So although I had a truly awesome weekend full of adventure and love, I'm officially pooped and the tears wouldn't stop today. And something in particular kept setting them off.
Alder came home last Thursday and informed me he wasn't allowed to go to recess. He could barely speak to me. His eyes blinked hard and fast, deep breaths in and out, he had to take a self imposed "time out" to gather his thoughts before he was able to explain what happened. These are typical physical responses for Alder when he's really struggling through something. And because he still suffers from auditory processing issues, it's difficult for him to completely provide a clear picture of any event. When the way you see and experience the world is different from the rest of us, it's obviously hard to explain.
Alder disclosed that he didn't finish his schoolwork so he had to stay in from recess to finish it. On the surface this seems like a natural consequence for not completing his work--work before play is often a mindset we support in our home. Perhaps he was goofing off? Maybe he wasn't listening? But that's out of character for him, especially in a classroom setting. Alder LOVES to get work done. He's a diligent worker and so long as the instructions are clear and he remains in a supportive environment with clear expectations and boundaries and where it's ok for him to make mistakes, Alder typically thrives. And that's been his experience at this particular school in his past 2 years.
I'm not attacking his current teacher. I'm sure she's a good fit for some children. Boundaries and strict rules can be important when it comes to managing and educating a room full of children. But her disposition is hard. Crass even. And sometimes, perhaps not always, appears to come without compassion for others. Alder has a sense for this type of behavior and is not only resistant to it, he absolutely cannot function in it.
Fast forward one week. I have received multiple reports of Alder crying at lunch, at recess, in the after school program. He's appearing sad and forlorn to certain staff who he typically relates to and confides in. He's tearful and resistant in the mornings before school. This was a child who claimed to be "a star" at his school. And now he's freaking out about "getting in trouble" for eating breakfast at school. He called me on Wednesday to pick him up because he claimed to be "a tiny afraid and nervous" about his teacher. Enter Mama Bear...
Do I think his teacher is a horrible monger? NO! Do I think she's mean? Maybe. But I, too, can be mean at times. Here's what I suspect is going on: Alder is a sensitive guy who's made tremendous progress. From barely being able to sing "happy birthday" 3 years ago to thriving in a "normal" classroom is nothing shy of a miracle. And I am unwilling to compromise his progress. Period. If I let that slip I send him the message that his hard work isn't valuable since I'm willing to put him in a position to compromise it. His past two school years he was loved and supported by incredibly kind and tolerant teachers (um, should there REALLY be any other kind of teacher???). This year that is not his classroom environment. He spends each day in his classroom ridden with fear and crippled with anxiety. There is only one 2nd grade class in his small school. Limited options. What to do? What to do?
After a pit-stained meeting with the principal, superintendent and head of special education, it was suggested to me that Alder receive a constant aid in the classroom to help him "cope." This was after numerous accounts of other children's "success stories" with said particular teacher. We live in a small town, folks. Despite the alleged successes of other students the point here is bing missed: this child was wildly successful until he became fearful of his teacher. A child cannot learn in an environment where their fight or flight mechanism is constantly triggered. There are 9 children in the classroom. Is patience and kindness to each student beyond the scope of a qualified professional? That is not a rhetorical question.
I'm not angry with his teacher. I feel compassion for her. No one can exist in a hardened place without unfortunate life experiences that put them their. And this isn't a simple case of a personality conflict between me, my child and his teacher. I believe everyone deserves a fare shake without preconceived notions and fully without judgement. But this school situation is clearly not working for Alder. And it's not working for me. And I'm just not willing to lay my child's future on the line because a teacher isn't willing to meet a student's emotional needs and an administration is unwilling to recognize a problem within its system. It is truly that serious.
So we're uncertain what lies ahead for Alder and school. It's not all that different from everything else on our path. Our entire journey with him we've been uncertain about the outcome. We've run on a combo of faith, hope, ambition and caffeine. Lots of caffeine. The kind of energy it takes to function in unfamiliar waters can be fueled by little other than the sheer desire to see your child succeed and straight shots of caffeine.
I'm not driven by certainty. This journey has really made me fully aware that nothing is for certain. And although the road ahead appears bumpy, I'm not afraid. Because I'm not the first to choose the road less traveled by. So I know it's what makes all the difference.
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