Although I have a lot of fun referring to myself in third person and laughing at my farming trial and errors, this is a serious post... one that calls for first person omniscient (you know, where the author is the narrator and she knows everything).
I just had a conversation with a good friend about a subject that is near and dear to my heart: ADD and other learning disabilities, the journey with a child touched by these, and all the educational implications that come with it. I am on the downhill side (notice I did NOT say "end") of that journey with my 14 year old son, and the uphill side - but considerably less steep - with my 10 year old daughter. My friend is just about to take her first step - and she needed advice. I have SUCH strong feelings about this subject, and I have so much to say about it, that it's on my heart to write it down. So pardon my digression from humorous goat management stories.
Teachers started calling me about my son when he was four. It seemed he couldn't sit still during story time. He wasn't just restless and fidgeting, either. He was running around the room at top speed while all the other children were sitting quietly on the carpet. I had no idea how much that first phone call foreshadowed the next ten years, or how much it would change everything about me and how I think. It's especially profound since before I became Farmgirl, I was a teacher.
We pretty much progressed through the same stages that all parents in our situation go through:
1) He's just a boy...that's how boys are, and I'm sick of the teacher-doctor conspiracy that over-diagnoses this for the sake of quiet classrooms.
2) OK, maybe he does have ADHD, but I am NOT putting my kid on Speed (Amphetamines).
3) If one more person compares this to a parent withholding insulin from a diabetic kid, I will go homicidal!
4) Let's try the Feingold diet and 15 other very expensive alternative treatments, from neuro-feedback, to acupuncture, to special physical therapy for brain-training.
5) I give up...I can't have these homework battles every night, I can't take any more teacher/principal phone calls, and my son thinks he's a stupid, good-for-nothing, waste of a human. Give him the drugs.
6) I can't believe we didn't do this sooner.
7) Have the meds stopped working because of his hormones?
8) He doesn't want the meds anymore because he doesn't like the way they make him feel in the evening. How can we help with this?
9) Wow, this kid is turning out ok...I think we're actually going to live through this.
It's no coincidence that those steps get progressively more rational...that's a God-thing. With my daughter, we got to skip steps 1-8. She isn't so bad that she needs medicine, not only because she's a girl (it looks VERY different in girls), but because she is the most self-driven little girl I have ever met, and she reads social cues better than she reads books. She struggles more with a learning disability in math than with ADD.
So as I'm sharing all this with my friend - and telling her what kind of a doctor to see, how it will be diagnosed, and what teachers can and can't say, and all the different alternative treatments we tried, and what I've noticed in her child - I'm struck by all I've learned. It changed the way I teach and tutor - I learned more about education from my son than I ever did in college. It changed the way I interacted with my students and their parents. It affected the way I planned lessons and assessments. It gave me more insight into the minds of boys, and showed me how significant the link is between gender and learning. It made me infinitely more patient. All-in-all, it has been SO much more of a gift than a burden. Why couldn't I have seen all this at the beginning of the journey, or even in the middle?? (Duh - because it requires the journey to learn it, which is probably why God dropped it on me in the first place).
My son, while he still struggles to stay organized and read social cues about when he's being obnoxious and annoying, has developed a deep empathy towards the struggles of other kids. He is so kind-hearted and non-judgmental...the only people I ever hear him criticize are the ones picking on the kids with problems. He knows what his weaknesses are and he consciously works to overcome and compensate for them. When he doesn't do as well as he can and should, he recognizes it and tries to do better the next day. How many other kids have that kind of self-awareness at 14??? He tells me everyday that he loves me, and he knows how hard I work to help him, and he appreciates it. He actually says that to me all the time! He even tells me when I do too much and cross the line into enabling. He wouldn't have that frame of mind without the struggles he's been through.
While my daughter is by far easier to parent, my son has made me a better person...and continues to inspire me everyday. There were so many days when I thought college would never be possible for this kid, he would never find a girl that can put up with him, and he will live with us until he's 50. I am ashamed at my lack of faith, and in awe of his emotional and mental growth. He will move out, go to college, and (God-willing) get married...which is the only thing on that list which I consider optional.
So for those of you that might read this and be at stages 1-8: there is a light at the end of the tunnel, and it's really bright. Don't be discouraged by the daily battles and pitfalls and teacher phone calls and zeroes in the grade book. However, I will say this: I'm not sure how people do this without God in their life. My sense of peace and ability to see the big picture is ONLY because a lot of people pray for us every day. My mommy prayer group has saved Kyle from being verbally abused several times. Especially when my PMS is visiting, it's really a choice between God and Child Protective Services.
I could write more - pages and pages more - but that's the snapshot that I wanted to present. I'm going back to the pasture (and third person limited) now with a clear conscience that I have done what God told me to do. "Peace out," as my kids would say.
