electric mist

finding voice (long)

Before you read the rant, understand this: I think teaching is one of the most difficult and important jobs in the world. I have huge respect for teachers and we have been lucky to have a few in our lives who were just beyond stellar. But this time... well, ranting will follow:

I'm not sure what the most difficult thing about havng a kid with special needs is, but one of them is helping that kid to find his own voice in the world. If the world already feels disorganized and chaotic, if you think you're doing what you're supposed to be doing and only after the fact, discover that you're not, or that you've left out half of the requirements or you've jumbled them up... you don't really know how to fix that. In Jake's case, his ADD and dysgraphia compound one another and impair what's typically referred to as the "executive functions" -- time management, organization, sequencing events, strategy. He will legitimately believe he's organized and doing what's needed, only to discover there are things he's left out, things he's forgotten or misunderstood, or just plain jumbled in such a way that what he does produce isn't "right" no matter how much effort he's put into it. When this happens in school with all its rules and regulations, with teachers who naturally assume that the kid either (a) didn't care or (b) didn't try very hard or (c) both, then their attitude toward a kid who's drowning in chaos is to generally heap punishment on top of what the kid had felt was his or her best effort. It's no wonder a kid facing this day in and day out would just give up.

We've battled this for Jake for years, ever since we had his diagnosis. The frustrating part is that they're learning more and more about dysgraphia and how it relates to the chaos a child experiences in the world, but I didn't know nearly as much as I needed to back then, and in a way, he's paying for that now. It's frustrating, because there are things I would have done differently to help facilitate problem-solving for him.

Meanwhile, Jake had been having extreme difficulties with his English teacher, and when I tried to talk to her a few days ago, I said, "Hello," on the phone and she LAUNCHED into all the things she thinks Jake has done wrong. And while they have to give him some accommodations, she felt like they were doing all they could for him and he just didn't care and wasn't trying. The anger and animosity were surprising, given that I had tried to call her for three weeks to address what I could see to be a developing problem. During the conversation, she seemed to relax and come around a little bit, but we still had issues. I asked for a meeting.

When Jake and I arrived, I expected to meet the teacher and student teacher and although we were going to be discussing problems, I thought that the previous phone conversation would have at least lessened the animosity.

Boy, was I wrong.

We sat down and the teacher launched again. I was shocked. She said, "Now, before we start..." and then she talked with a level of venom I have never experienced with a teacher. First, you don't get to say, "before we start" so that you can launch an attack and expect me to sit there quietly. That will happen the day I quit breathing. Second, I am all about having my kid take responsibility for where he isn't pulling his weight. But I am not going to let someone sit there and call him names and make accusations -- which had NO foundation in truth -- and wait until that person runs out of steam before meekly speaking up.

She was lucky I didn't drop kick her across the room.

I tried three times to politely interrupt her so that we could get the conversation back on track. And by "back on track" I mean, an actual dialog where she talked to me and asked questions and Jake and I got to do that apparently unheard-of-by-her thing... respond. When she kept going, I put my hand out, tapped the table and said, "Mrs. W. you're going to have to stop talking now, because you are pissing me off. I came here to help you, and to make sure that Jake was pulling his weight, but we are not going to accomplish a single thing if you spend time hurtling accusations; you're making me angry and no telling how Jake feels. IF the point of us coming was so that you could have an actual dialog with Jake to get to the bottom of this, then let's do a dialog."

Her eyes were as big as saucers. I am not a big person, and I rarely come across as a loud person, and it takes a lot to piss me off, but watching someone berate my child is right up there on the top of the list on things to make me go ballistic. But once I am pissed off, I will take you down. And, since I had shocked her into silence, I took over the meeting. I asked her to give me some examples of things Jake had not being doing well. She didn't have many -- mostly that he didn't write things down in the order she wanted, etc. I asked her if she had seen his diagnosis. She was aware of the ADD, but didn't seem to know about (or understand, possibly) the dysgraphia.

One of the strategies for ADD students to help them remember what to do later when they get home? Write down the assignment from the board. Great strategy, if writing something down isn't part of the problem. It's like asking someone who doesn't see so well to stand at the back of the classroom without their glassess and read off the board in order to get the grade -- it's a definite disadvantage, and no one would dream of doing that. Asking a dysgraphic person to write a list down -- in a hurry, when the bell rings -- is about the worst thing to do.

She didn't know. It was like lightbulbs had gone off. I explained to her -- look, if you would ask him to say it out loud to you from what he's written down, one of you will catch whether or not he's written it correctly. If you've written something on the board and he comes up to ask you a question about it, it's not because he's being a pain in the ass on purpose -- he genuinely has gotten confused. If you humiliate him, he's going to give up.

She asked Jake some questions, and he very articulately began explaining some things. This is a kid who can -- when he wants to -- discourse on a number of topics at a college level of thinking / analysis. He's got that in him... it just rarely shows, because if he thinks you think he's stupid, he just shuts down. It's a very bad trait -- I want him to see that as a challenge (as a, fuck you, I'm going to prove you wrong anyway sort of thing), but he's not quite there yet. He's getting there -- he seems less intimidated and more determined to help himself.

By the end of the meeting, there was such a significant turnaround in her demeanor, it was worth the time and effort. She and Jake were talking and they came up with simple, easy ways for him to stay on track without disrupting her teaching plans or soaking up a lot of time (or being belligerent and a pain in the ass.) Jake apologized for having just shut them out and not tried to explain - she apologized for not having asked earlier if there was a problem. A much better outlook.

We still have a few hurdles there with her, but he sees that he can confront these issues and do something about them. He wants to go to college, and I want him to realize he is going to face this sort of sentiment over and over, and it's up to him to help himself.

He's got to find his voice in this world, and it can't be a whiny, "poor me" sort of thing -- there are too many people out there with far more things wrong and they view those as a challenge and they don't slow down. And we're getting there. I think.

When we got to the car after the meeting, I asked Jake how he thought it had gone. I was still focused on the end of the meeting, and he laughed and said, "Well, it got a whole lot better -- but geez, Mom, I thought you were about to throw down with the teacher right there in the library." Cracked me up.

But he did say that he saw what he could have been doing to help himself more, and since then, he's been making the effort. Sometimes a little throw-down is what you need.

Posted by toni at March 24, 2004 04:42 PM