Thursday, July 12, 2012
Sunday, July 08, 2012
I Did It, and Here's the Proof
Hi, I'm Lisa, recovering workaholic. This is the moonlight meeting for that support group Ive heard about isn't it?
Actually, I'd like to welcome you to my therapy session. You didn't know this, but you've been on my Bucket List for some time. But like with everything else, I consider myself a spontaneous procrastinator. I am dreaming of being a writer, in my mind it is a wonderful dream. My assignment from 2010 was to withstand 3 minutes of humiliation by purposely finding an open mic and letting it all out. Well, 2 days ago, I got called on my crap, so lucky you, I had to jump into action. and come up with something, anything. I spent the first 24 hours timing 3 minutes. It went from, "No problem to Holy Shit" the next 24 hours was spent trying to find humor in anything. That was the most serious, unfunny day of my entire life. The clock hit 9am which had me locked away for at least 30 minutes before "Shiny Object syndrome hit. I needed coffee, the dog needed food. Then with 4 boys home for the summer, it meant 1 request per child per hour. Off to hockey practice, open skate and Gretsky Hour. How could I possibly call myself a "Hockey mom" if I didn't show support. The neighbor's cats needed to be tended to. Every possible excuse I could find, I clung to. Oh, but I showed my effort, by dragging notebook, iPad, Comedy Bible with me throughout the day. Humor is never around when you need it most. It sounded like such a good idea when I told my buddy I was in. How hard could this be?
Before I knew it it was 9pm, and man, I was wiped out from all the lack of humor that I searched desperately for. If I slept, I'd be refreshed and ready to work. Now, 9am, the day of my big moment, I am staring at a blank page. 3 minute? So, with that, welcome to my therapy session.
Currently in our house, we're surviving first love, and it is just as corny as Twillight. I wondered where all the teenage angst came from in that movie...I now know it is REAL. Sure young love is cute for awhile, but after about an hour of the love birds, i find it difficult to be surrounded by pink teddy bears and i's dotted with little hearts. I've come to understand why my brothers beat the drama filled teenage girl out of me, and dang it, will have to thank them for their intervention.
I'm having a tough time, being surrounded by boys all of my life. I recently, I overstepped my coolness factor. I don't know what came over me, but i thought I could fit in with the new "princess" generation. We have 2 little 5 year old girls in the family. They were dressed in all the Hello Kitty accessories, playing with the new princess line of Barbie dolls. I was a young girl, I had a barbie doll, what fun!?!? First, I had to ask a name of one of the princesses. Wasn't Aurora, Sleeping Beauty's name? Since I asked them who their favorite princess was, they asked me. I told them I actually liked Tinker Bell. Well, I must have sent them over the edge by my ignorance. One actually looked at me and said "OMG, (with eyeballs rolling followed by the sigh) Tinker Bell is NOT a princess, she is a fairy. I found the answer as to why all the schools have implemented anti-bully programs, those two were brutal.
I've had a blast raising my sons, and am quite happy with that accomplishment. I base my success on the fact that they still don't mind being seen in public with me, well, that may all change in 1 minute or so. Even though, at times their inner drama queen emerges, and they have brought a few of them home to meet me, I can count on 2 of them to be more sensible in their choices. My youngest will have to find a "hockey girl". Yes, they do have a group on Facebook specifically for girls who like hockey. That'll be like eHarmony for him. He comments quite frequently about his annoyance with girls that wear too much make up. I've been on the receiving end a few times for that one. I actually hide out to apply make up when we have special occasions or have to been seen in public, other than the pet or grocery store.
He's baffled as to why I bothered wasting so much money on braces for him, since his dream is to have his front teeth knocked out on the ice.
I think Facebook is my greatest challenge with parenting. Although my kids are comfortable talking to me, laziness has led to many FB chat sessions and some scares. What is with parents that friend their kids friends. There are two women that have friended my kids, not because they know them, but because their child is friends with one of my kids. Like I mentioned, one son is a hockey FANatic, and his world collapses when the Sharks play poorly. I saw my son one night as he headed to his room, all seemed well. Suddenly FB notifications started popping up in my email box. Curiosity and my honed ability to procrastinate with my "Shiny Object Syndrome" led me to find out what was going on in the world of FB. This woman, a complete stranger to my son, who I've only met once, is trying to talk my son off the ledge. You've got so much to live for; don't let anything bring you down; life will get better. I jump out of my chair, sprint across the house, wondering what could have possibly brought my son to the brink, knowing I just saw him moments earlier. Only to be met with "what's wrong with you mom, are you OK?" I'm still in mother lion mode, so caught in the moment, I find myself spewing out words of wisdom only to find out that the game ended 10 minutes ago, he was upset and posted about his disappointment in the loss. Disaster diverted, however, it takes another hour for my blood pressure to return to normal, my heart to stop racing. So, have no fear, with his hockey addiction added with the immediate gratification of facebookDon't worry, I'm sure the pictures of his missing teeth as well as a close up of his toothless smile will be posted on Facebook within 2 minutes of it happening.
Saturday, June 02, 2012
Thursday, May 17, 2012
From the Brink
Children will live up or down to our expectations. It’s all in the label. Educators should understand this prior to setting foot in a classroom. Unfortunately, our education system hasn’t kept up with current trends. Over the last 20 years, while the number of children diagnosed with ADHD has increased, the number of teachers with compassion and understanding has remained relatively low in comparison.
An ADHD diagnosis can feel like a death sentence to a confused young boy. I felt helpless, my son’s young, fragile ego was crushed from the devastating blow. Why is ADHD a disorder? As an adult with ADHD, I see it as thinking outside the box. I stumbled across a list of traits. One by one we went through that list; “very observant, extremely curious, excellent reasoning skills, vivid imagination, ENERGETIC, asks “what if”? Down the list we continued; to his surprise we had described HIM. The moment of truth arrived; the list was titled traits of a “gifted” child. Two things to know about me; I am most resourceful, and a lioness has nothing on me when it comes to protecting my young. No label would destroy my child.
A rambunctious young boy, with bright eyes and a warm smile, left teachers in either utter adoration or with complete distaste. During parent teacher conferences, teachers expressed their concerns and plans to assist with his low reading levels while he sat quietly reading the local newspaper. Imagine their shock when he was asked to read or summarize his reading. Surprisingly they would continue explaining their position despite the glaring example disproving their theory, dismissing me as a mere parent, lacking their education and experience.
Countless battles have been waged with insensitive teachers. Junior High School delivered us a teacher that actually built a bond with and in the process uncovered his student’s motivations. Hidden inside this rambunctious boy was a huge heart with a knack for math. Cooperation and focus gave him the privilege of tutoring others; a win/win. This continued smoothly for three years, we finally saw light that looked like the end of a long, dark tunnel.
All good things come to an end. Entrance to high school sent him back into Special Day Classes. Boredom mixed with micromanagement will increase the probability of misbehavior in children with ADHD. We found ourselves back at square one. Three years of the progress destroyed in less than one semester because of a checkbox. Apparently boxes are extremely important to teachers; one was inadvertently left unchecked on his final IEP from middle school. When questioned, no one felt comfortable vouching for him; the risk was too great; so much can change over one summer vacation. We’d make the best of a bad situation. I convinced him that if he proved himself, yet again to this new team, things would improve; we’d have him back where he belonged before he knew it. As parents, it is ingrained that we are a “team”, especially when it involves children with special needs. Team work is essential; it’s emphasized on brochures, posters, even written into behavior plans.
Good and bad exists everywhere, teachers are no exception, some exaggerate, even instigate problems to make their point. In the process, a child was losing his way, becoming hopeless, with his world caving in around him, to the point of giving up. Hopelessness leads people to dark places in search of escape. Good intentions, spiraled out of control, a united front was destroying a teenage boy.
THIRTEEN meetings with varying degrees of dramatics, the support of a member of the Board of Education, and a scathing blog was all it took to find the correct placement for a child they had all but given up on. Of course all other excuses also had to be exhausted, an acrimonious divorce, grief over the loss of his father, and the ever popular “mom’s fault”.
After six months with a lost boy running away at every opportunity, family and friends desperately trying to reel him in, it seemed he would become a sad statistic. The one positive thing about hitting bottom is that there is nowhere to go but up. Our bottom finally arrived in the form of a near brawl, neighbors’ contacting the police due to safety concerns for all involved. A mandatory stay at a recovery home for troubled teens and countless hours of therapy brought my son home safe and sound.
That was the past. Today, with a mix of tough love, support, compassion and most importantly forgiveness; a lost child is now thriving. He has an army of supporters, including former teachers and principals defending his rights and dignity. Everyone is held accountable for their actions, recognize the roles they play, and now know to play fair or risk another brutal attack.
No child should be shocked to find out that they are smart. He was shocked to see solid B’s across the board. How could he never realize that? He has the mental capacity of a Master degree student. How does that slip through the cracks?
I am hopeful that we can begin to see the many similarities between the “gifted” and “ADHD” child. It’s all in the label. Zero tolerance policies and labels placed on those that don’t fit conveniently into neat little boxes, are creating a lost generation. There has been an explosion of ADHD diagnoses of children over the last 20 years, plenty of time to understand and build programs to accommodate students’ needs. Maybe they should read their tagline “Prepare and Inspire for Success”. Labeling children or making them feel defeated falls under neither category.
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