My kid is that child. The one every parent knows about. The one your kid comes home and tells you stories about. My child has a kind spirit and a generous heart but he also has a wild soul and a wandering eagerness to absorb everything. Yes, that’s my child.
My child has not one set of mental health issues, but several. Along with being diagnosed at 2 with speech pattern delays and sensory processing issues, he was also on the radar for ADHD, but due to his age, the doctor was too conservative to give him a diagnosis and assumed the “wait and see” position. While we were in this holding pattern, my son was sent to a therapeutic school to receive speech and occupational therapy for a year. He then returned to his previous pre-school and that’s when it felt as though the wheels fell off our struggle bus.
My husband and I strolled in on a cool October morning for a routine pre-K parent-teacher conference expecting a routine evaluation of our child’s strengths and weaknesses. It was anything but that. We sat for 72 minutes and were told at least 26 items that our son was struggling with, inept at or failing completely. Not even at the 71-minute mark did we get a glimpse of a positive coming. Not even a “but he’s really showing improvement in wiping his own ass!” Nothing folks. Nothing.
My husband and I were devastated and immediately tried to implement tools as to how we could all have better communication about our son’s academics and behavior on a daily basis. That included giving him a green/yellow/red card system for the day that each had a consequence or reward. But, for the love of all that’s holy, the poor child could not come home with anything but a red card to save his ever loving life.
We felt at this time drastic changes had to be made. We enrolled him in a new school mid-year and made an appointment to be seen by a child psychiatrist for early spring.
2 weeks into his new school, my son, Jackson was showing vast improvement. Almost everything we had been berated over during his conference were no longer a serious issue of concern. The move alone made me wonder just what the Hell they had been doing to my child? What warning signs had I missed? Was he telling me things all along and I didn’t validate them because he’s a 5-year-old and 5-year-olds don’t make valid points?
As Jackson continued to socially improve over the next several weeks, his new teacher began to notice that as he became more comfortable in the class, he had developed some classic ADHD signs mixed in with some other things she couldn’t quite place. We could handle that. We figured it was coming and we were only a couple of weeks out from his appointment with the psychiatrist.
On the weekends Jackson often goes to his grandparents where there are lots of younger kids to play with on the block. The kids, however, are almost entirely girls. So, if one of the fathers doesn’t happen to be out to referee, the mothers can get antsy having a rambunctious boy around. One weekend in particular, I had walked Jackson to the curb so he could see if any of the other children were out playing. I watched from the porch as he ran into a side-yard. No sooner had he disappeared behind a back fence, he was immediately being escorted back across the street by the collar of his shirt while a mother mumbled something under her breath.
The very next weekend we pulled into the drive while all the children were out in the communal front yards. Jackson gleefully jumps out to say hello and all the mothers quickly usherd the girls inside. I actually heard one say “no, remember we don’t play with him!”
What did you say!?
And we wonder why society has a bullying problem...
And we wonder where bullies learn their behavior...
Those are statements, not questions.
I’m going on a theory that bullies, except maybe on rare mental defects, are made... And made at home. If you ever look at your kid and wonder why they’re such an ass, look at yourself first. Apple. Tree.
Young children are such beautiful examples of what genuine and honest empathetic love is. They don’t know otherwise until they’re taught otherwise.
When the ordeal happened at the parent-teacher conference, I wanted so badly to go back up to the school after I had time to process, heal and let Jackson settle into his new school. I wanted to let them know he wasn’t some degenerate child that would serve his youth out doing the bare minimum and just “get by” as an adult. They were making him a self-fulfilling prophecy - whatever brush they were painting him with was the picture he was going to become. I have never in my life been so happy I trusted my gut and got him out of there as quickly as I could.
I wanted so badly to run across the street and yell at the top of my lungs to that mother “do you know what it’s like to be him!?” I wanted her to feel his embarrassment, if for only a moment. I wanted her to share in his pain. I wanted her to feel something times one-thousand because that’s how intense he feels things. Most of all, I wanted to get through to her thick head that she’s a bully. She’s a part of this epidemic problem. She can preach love and tolerance with her stickers on the back of her SUV but it takes a conscious effort to follow through on those ideologies. Otherwise, you’re not just an asshole, you’ve graduated to a hypocritical asshole. Congratulations.
Soon after the “street incident” Jackson saw his doctor and was diagnosed with several issues such as ADHD, Generalized Anxiety Disorder, and Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. He takes 2 medications regularly that curb quite a bit of the irritations associated with these diagnoses. I’m pleased to say that he is a very happy and healthy young boy that, on occasion, has bad days.
But, don’t we all?