Well, we’ve had a solid six weeks of remote learning through my son’s school. He is now in the third grade, and adjusting with time, to the new style of school.
As anyone who has read my blog previously, you may be aware he has some learning difficulties due to his severe ADHD, and communication disorder. At home, we’ve learned how to work around these shortcomings. Both his father and I are able to see the signs: when a meltdown is coming, when a movement break is needed, when an explanation of sarcasm is due, and we often dance around his hypersensitive emotions. It is difficult as a parent, having lived with this child for eight years, to objectively weed out his issues, and see them as a negative.
Sure, he’s hypersensitive- but so am I. So is his father. I’ve never viewed this as a negative trait; it’s always been a positive for me. Isn’t empathy something we strive for, hoping everyone is able to experience it? Doesn’t empathy make for a better world? Sure, at times, the stress involved can be difficult, but for the most part- it’s a benefit to society, as a whole.
My boy doesn’t always understand sarcasm, or kidding around, but he loves jokes and joke books. He has a fantastic sense of humor, loves puns and is witty, just like his grandfather and great grandmother. I do have to get involved sometimes to diffuse misunderstandings, but with the extra information, he comes around.
We have been working with his school since kindergarten to get him the special education services he needs. We were denied an individualized education plan (IEP) in kindergarten, and instead he was placed on a 504 plan. We have at least three appointments per year with his developmental medicine specialist at children’s hospital. She manages his care, and has been encouraging us to fight for the IEP, since he was four.
After our experience remote learning last spring, I submitted a request for a re-evaluation. It was a pants on fire emergency, centered around his educational needs. They responded the same day that we would begin the process as soon as the fall semester started. Beginning in September, my son sat for weeks of academic, occupational therapy, speech language pathology, physical therapy and psychological testing. Both myself and his teachers from second grade completed the psychiatric evaluations. Most of the testing ran way past the expected time; often taking a handful of days, where it was only supposed to be two hours.
This wasn’t a surprise to me. My son and I do our best remote learning, but most assignments, which I believe are supposed to take around a half hour or so, can take us all day to complete. There is a fine line that I do not want to cross with him – pushing his frustration to levels that will equal a meltdown.
There are rules I work with him by. So many in our life tell me not to give in, or give up; when I do so, he “wins”. I haven’t found that to be the case. If I see his frustration tolerance diminishing, I know he needs a break- or the worksheet will get destroyed, document deleted or just a complete withdrawal. See, it’s not behavioral, and he’s not willingly fighting me. It’s neurological, and he’s doing the best he can. He has developed maladaptive coping skills, because he has no healthy skills to work with. I can’t shame him into doing his work by calling him names, or comparing him to others in his class- because he isn’t the same.
So Friday was the IEP determination meeting. I was a wreck. My stress level is off the charts, and I realized how much was riding on this meeting. Remote learning has been impossible this year. I was preparing to be denied an IEP, and starting to think about withdrawing him, to homeschool. (Which I know I would fail at. I’m terrible at schedules and routines. I have no experience teaching; my background is in office administration and writing).
Well, they were all familiar faces; and unlike in kindergarten, I felt differently. The overall impression I got from all involved was that they were there to help him in the best way possible. I still didn’t expect it to turn out favorably for us. We had met one or two administrators at the school who gave off the impression of: “well if you just medicate him, his problems would disappear.” It doesn’t work like that. Even though both my husband and I are personally against medicating children, we were able to get past that, and hear the Doctor’s recommendation, and started him on a low dose at the beginning of second grade. It helped, some, but wasn’t the magic cure we’d been led to believe it to be. And we are still working on finding a medication that helps him.
The meeting was intense. The specialists all took turns, sharing their evaluations and opinions. Everyone was sure to let us know what an amazing, empathetic and intelligent young boy we have. We heard this often. We also heard many difficult, but truthful things we, and they, witness with him. He’s at high risk to be bullied, has high levels of anxiety and depression in school. He withdraws as a coping mechanism. He avoids playing with others, saying often: “I have no friends,” “no one likes me” and “I can’t do anything right.” I cry now, as I write this. Stop and think about this, a second grader thinks this low of himself. He does have friends, and he is so loved. He does so many things right. I try to protect his self esteem in every way I possibly can- but I can’t be with him always.
We got the IEP. There was no question. As a mom, who has worked for four years trying to get the school to see what we do as parents, this was validating. I was completely unprepared though. I didn’t have goals or a vision prepared. I have to submit those today.
His supports and accommodations are all those we have been begging for, since he entered kindergarten. The problematic areas which will be focused on with his initial IEP are as follows: self regulation, emotional regulation, hyperactivity, focus, executive functioning, social pragmatics and of course general education.
I don’t know what this will look like remotely, nor do I know whether they will support us staying remote for the year. They did pick up on his difficulties with transitions, which is our main reason for keeping him remote. I know they are having children with special needs come to school for services, which would be great.
The relief. The confirmation. This wasn’t about labeling him for life. This was about recognizing what a brilliant, beautiful little boy can do, and with the proper supports, succeed beyond his and our best hopes. He is our shining star, and he will go far in this life. Now, time to go design those goals and vision.
Parenting Through the Pandemic 