Meet the teacher

Meet the teacher night, I used to always thought it sounded so exciting.  Like meeting Mary Poppins and stepping into a land of  glossy name tags on desks, fresh waxy crayons, the endless possibilities of blank paper.  However this year I was more like a weary burned out vet who had been told to report back to duty.

This week we went to meet the teacher night for my sons class.  I had already decided that I wasn't going to tell her about last years troubles, about the trips to the office, the depression, the complete dread of school.   I knew that my son wouldn't show this side to her right away, he would say hello happily and run off to play with his friends.  I decided that I would let her form her own opinion of what kind of kid he was and that maybe with a little luck she would somehow have whatever magic it takes to make him like school enough and not be bored out of his mind that he wouldn't get labeled a bad kid.  That was my plan, smile, say hello to the other parents, say things like "lovely to meet you," and get the heck out of there.

So, we walked in and my dear boy blasted past the teacher to tackle hug his friend. They went into some sort of puppy pack of happy boy energy and then eventually he came to say hello to the teacher.  He investigated the new charts on the wall, scarfed down some  fruit that was out on the table, and then he was out the door with some classmates tumbling on the hill.   He looked just like a happy kid who was excited for school to start.  It's kinda scary how he can turn it on and fake it so well.  Last year the school counselor couldn't believe he was depressed because he was so cheerful and pleasant when she spoke with him. He doesn't like people to know he needs help.  Just last week he tried to fool the optometrist about his vision.  The conclusion was that he needs glasses, but it took the Dr a long time and lots of tricks and tests before he could be certain.  So, last year when the counselor told me he seemed fine and that whatever I was seeing at home was "just a phase" my intuition knew there was more as I watched my son stop liking every single thing that gave him joy. He would mope and say things like "This life is so hard for someone like me."

  So as the kids were playing outside his new teacher asked me, "So, is he excited about school starting?"  Much to my surprise I heard myself saying, "No, actually he really doesn't like school.  He hated it last year and became very depressed, I know that you might not believe that a seven year old can get depressed, but they can and he did."  I went on to tell her how we looked into a Sudbury school but couldn't afford it, how we did a week trial of homeschool and that was my backup plan. I went on and on telling her exactly the opposite of everything I had planned.  Also I was spilling all of this in front of other parents who slowly backed away from the crazy woman.  It was like I could hear myself blurting out all the grimy details of last years war stories but I just couldn't stop myself, and part of me was thinking "shut up already."  However, something good did happen, she asked me questions like "what did the previous teacher do to fill his needs for movement in the classroom?" She seemed not terrified of my stories and seemed to be absorbing them with occasional questions to better understand.   I also found out she took a class on teaching boys and that she knows that school is not set up for them.  She gave me a glimmer of hope that this year could work and my stories didn't seem to shake her one bit.  She looked like somebody trying to figure out a puzzle as she listened to me and I think that is exactly what we will need to do.  Figure out my sons bag of tricks and help him to make sense of them all.

We drove home and I tried to talk up the teacher to my boy. I said things to my son about how fun it must have been to see all his buddies.  He didn't care, he still hates it, still doesn't want to go.  He is very much the apathetic teenager stuck in a 7 year old body.  He will go anyway, starting on Monday.  Maybe if he goes a week without being sent to the office he will start to trust it again to be a good place.  Perhaps if he can be given some heavy work for his busy body and some challenging quests for his buzzing brain he may even look forward to going to school.  Maybe... I can dream right?

Getting it ALL wrong

What if all the instincts and impulses that you had inside of you were considered socially unacceptable. Now imagine that your mind and body didn't yet have enough self control to stop you from doing them. Your neurotransmitters just couldn't send things fast enough to tell yourself to stop.   Everywhere you went people would tell you that you were doing it wrong. " Nope, not that way."  "Oh careful, not that." "SLOW DOWN!"  "Oooh you messed up AGAIN!"
 
How long would it be until you broke.  How many times could you hear your name in THAT tone of voice that says "you screwed up!"  before you either stopped caring or just lost your joy all together?   I fear for my little guy that we are dangerously close to this place, if not already arriving.  I have been witnessing the joy dwindle from him, first in small amounts, and now in a way that seems at times like despair has set in.

  Last week I  talked with his teacher (who is amazing and wonderfully gentle in his corrections.) I got  advice from the school counselor after having her meet with him (because when your son no longer wants to play with his Legos, you take it serious.)  Things that were suggested included a light box since we live in the northwest and the sun doesn't like to be around this time of year. Maybe a session or two with a play therapist?   It was suggested that maybe this was a stage and it would blow over.   I hoped for the latter, and we turned on our Happy Light at breakfast time for a few days.  Then I did some thinking and I tried to put myself in his shoes.  That is what the first paragraph was all about.   Constantly doing the wrong thing, not planning to do the wrong thing, not wanting to do the wrong thing.  (this kid sits and draws during choice time so he won't unknowingly do the wrong thing and get into trouble.)  It has to be crushing for him and I think his new sullen attitude is a product of this.

I googled "play therapist" to see if we had one in the area.  Then I thought about play.  I got a random idea and this is what we are trying, and I think I am seeing results of a happier kid. Long term I am not sure this is going to work but I'm taking it a day at a time.  The plan is:  Short burst of one-on-one time with my son (husband is doing this with him too) where we have fun and no matter what he does, we don't correct him.  It's a time when he can do no wrong, we just play and have fun.  He wrestles me to the ground, or we play a board game, or whatever, but NOTHING he can do gets him a correction or even a scowl for the duration of that playtime.  (My goal is 30 minutes)  The rest of life goes on as it did before except that window of fun.  

My hope is that those times will bring his joy back and we can keep working on ways he can help himself be successful at self control so that he won't have to hear as many corrections.  He wants to follow the rules, that is obvious to me, but his little body and mind are just too full of Tigger to make it happen.

 However, I kinda think that the hundred acre woods weren't as fun until Tigger moved in.
(perhaps we need to move to the woods and homeschool?)