Tag: adhd

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Panic

I love my 8 year old son with all my heart. I would do ANYTHING for him! Our relationship is suffering so much for this grand social experiment- I can’t reach him. Can we take a year off? Can’t I quit? Remote learning is destroying his self esteem, our relationship, and really challenging my patience.

We have chosen to keep him home year round this year due to being a high risk family. Safety over sanity, I guess. We worry that the transition from one day in school, one day home, repeated all week will wreck any chance he has of learning. So we decided to keep him home. His developmental pediatrician, and the SPED department at the school understood, and are all doing their best to support us.

I have never had this much anxiety before in my life. And I was diagnosed with GAD as a kid. I’m 42 and worried about this level of stress, and what it’s doing to my body, and my son. I know he picks up on it, I know it triggers his anxiety in response. I do not know how to deescalate us both. I’ve spent years studying CBT and DBT. No coping skills are helping. Therapy helps some. Medications don’t fix situations.

So, we flail. Trying to meet expectations that are so out of reach… setting his little heart up for failure – if he saw the amount of work assigned daily. I don’t show him. I’ve made some massive adjustments in ways of learning. I don’t know if the school will be okay with them, and I don’t give a… He feels successful if I type his words for him. We do all math work on a whiteboard together. Science is his favorite.

We just got an IEP. But how will they deliver services remotely? Cases are increasing in our town, and the school is open for hybrid. Do we send him for services? Do we send him back to hybrid? Will he learn better there? It would be much less stress, and tension between us. But he’s as terrified of COVID as most of us masked people. Would he see it as freedom, or abandonment? How behind is he? How worse would his anxiety and depression be? Does he know I love him? Does he know my anxiety is from the expectations the school places upon us, and not from being with him? How would he do with the transitions? Who do I ask for help?

I’m lucky- I am disabled, so I’m able to be home and focused on his schooling and provide the constant 1:1 he needs. I count those blessings every day. I’m terrified that we are going to fall behind on work- and the school will report us to social services. (It happened to his dad). It’s a real fear – not that we’ve ever been in trouble, but one that is never far from my mind. And I know there are millions more families in much worse situations than us. And my heart goes out to each and every one of you.

Lest anyone think I’m holding the school, staff or his amazing teacher responsible for this – I’m not. Not at all. We are in one of the best schools in the state, and it’s public. They are phenomenal to work with. The IEP process: we worked together for the common educational goal of a free appropriate public education, for my son. There was no need for a lawyer or advocate. All of these women know our son closely, and have been helping him for years. To finally have earned him the IEP? Feels like we won the lottery. I treasure each and every soul at his school. And I know this is most likely more difficult for everyone who works there. I’m not losing site of this.

Each day is an absolute horror show. I’ve yet to figure out a way to alert my son that it’s time to start working, that doesn’t end in him throwing or breaking something. (See, transitions = low frustration tolerance with him). I’ve tried color coded schedules with alarms. I’ve tried rewards, positive reinforcement. I’ve talked assignments up, explaining “it’s a short day – we don’t have much work, you’ll breeze right through it!” I’ve taken whatever trinket gets tossed, and put it away until work is completed. I’ve tried restricting privileges until work is completed. I’ve tried many, many movement breaks. I’ve tried breaking the assignments up into more manageable chunks of time.

What seems to work best? Reviewing the day in front of us, so he knows what to expect. Giving him choices of which subject to start with. Breaking it up throughout the day, with plenty of adventures in between assignments. Keeping with the same routine and schedule. Using a whiteboard for math, typing for writing, and hopefully soon, speech to text software to really give him some independence. Reminding him that I’m his helper and advocate- and that I have nothing to do with the assigned work, other than my willingness to be his 1:1 aide.

The strain this is putting on my marriage can’t be overlooked. My husband works full time, but is always offering whatever support he can give, outside of work hours. To me, that’s not helpful. We have differing strategies for interacting with our son, when it comes to schooling, and that seems to be coming to the forefront. So, like most things I said: “Thanks, but no thanks. We will stick with our methods.”

It really stinks being a control freak, like me. However, we do have our routines ironed out – some such as, giving him gum when he has to sit and attend to a lesson. That was the occupational therapist’s suggestion at the school. She said the physical sensory input of the gum and jaw movement would help him attend, and sit. So gum it is. It does help.

God what I wouldn’t give to be going on a play date – my biggest concern which snack to pack to avoid an allergic reaction from anyone we are meeting. Or to be thinking about what to get for this weeks birthday child’s present. But instead, this is my reality.

My husband is getting laid off the day before Thanksgiving. I’m nervous because I know I’m going to have to swallow my pride in a few weeks, and go to the local food bank. Again, I’m so thankful for their service. I’m fearful though. This year there may not be enough food. Have you seen the lines in Texas?

I volunteered for a year at ours – and it was the most emotional few hours of my week. Many of the regular clients – I was their only social contact, all week. The love and kindness they expressed melted me. I don’t think we hear enough of the stories from the inside. We see the pictures and hear the statistics, but what about the people? What are their stories? Where are they now? I’m rambling.

I’m scared the impact this pandemic is having on EVERYTHING. Sorry to unleash my anxiety on you all. If you have followed me thus far, I thank you. Please know I send all my prayers and thoughts of comfort and health to all of you. I’m going to go count my blessings to keep myself in check.

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School 2020

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.

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Stigma Post #1

The stigma associated with any health diagnosis can be difficult to live with. Mental health and neurodevelopmental diagnoses are still very sensitive topics. As a society today, we act as if we are so enlightened and accepting, but many times, that’s not the case.

Take, for example, the current handling of remote learning for students across the nation. There is no nationalized plan to implement IEP’s; nor anything offered statewide even. My son is on a 504, which has been rendered useless, since he’s not physically in school to receive the built in supports and accommodations.

Living in Massachusetts, school is cancelled for the remainder of the year. Our Governor, Charlie Baker, has been having daily press conferences throughout the stay at home period; keeping citizens up to date with the latest information and advisories. Our state is in the first phase of reopening.

This post though, it’s not about that. It’s about how invisible our special needs children have become in this pandemic.

Special needs children (and adults for that matter), have been completely neglected from inclusion, anywhere. This is the exact opposite of how it’s supposed to be.

I’ve heard Baker and Cuomo both repeatedly speaking of the graduating seniors, and how sad it is they are losing out on their chance of physically graduating, attending prom, banquets, etc. I feel sympathy for them, sure. However, these young adults have their whole life ahead of them. They made it! They are off to great things – the world is their oyster.

Like a mom friend on Facebook mentioned, our children are being left behind. They are invisible. When I try and talk with others in real life about how far behind my son is slipping, I’m dismissed with, “Well, they won’t be holding this time against anyone.” It’s invalidating and infuriating.

When both Governors Baker and Cuomo were asked about what’s being done to support adult disabled populations, neither was ready with an answer. I was not impressed. This population is just as at risk as those in nursing homes, especially if in congregate living. I’m aware they can’t be on top of everything, but we’re in week ten here. (And I’m not meaning to negate any of the wonderful work both have done to keep their states safe. This is just a matter very dear to my heart).

Perusing the Massachusetts Department of Education website, I’m saddened to see that there’s absolutely no mention of special education administration, or expectations.

As a special education family, we are left floundering. I felt invisible before this- now I feel as if we just don’t matter. And my husband and I have fought a long, hard battle over the past three years to be where we are with the 504 Ed plan. Our son has fought even more so, and to see him regress is heartbreaking.

I submitted a request this week for a re-evaluation for an IEP for my son. I don’t know when that will happen, but at least it’s been sent and received.

I just want for him what should be rightfully his. A Free Appropriate Public Education. Is that really too much to ask?

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Baby Steps

Yesterday was a great day- spent with my son. We worked on schoolwork sporadically throughout the day, interspersed with fun activities; we built a clay volcano, made bubbles, and flew his drone. Unfortunately, the drone is stuck 40 feet up in a tree – so hopefully the wind will push it down in the coming days. Losing the drone was heartbreaking. My son is an incredibly sensitive little boy, and has yet to stop beating himself up over it. The controller glitched. I was watching, he pushed the joystick to raise it a foot or two, and it took off- up and forward. He tried immediately to power it down, but that didn’t work. (Smart child!) He came running to me for help; and try as I did, the thing had a mind of it’s own. Talk about feeling like a parental failure – I couldn’t help with something that simple? Fortunately, he did not breakdown into hysterics like the last time we lost it in the marsh. My father and I were able to recover it that day. We needed a kayak, rake and step ladder, but in less than two hours we were successful. I can’t say the same for yesterday. We can’t even spot it with the binoculars- as it’s the same green as the fresh oak leaves it now rests in. I know how much he’s hurting. I do the same thing to myself. The constant drumbeat “I’m so stupid/ useless/ a waste of space…” echoes in my mind as well. I try to put a smile on my face, and not share how bleak I feel, but I’m starting to realize there’s no hiding it from him. I don’t know how to help him with this. I’m 41, and have been dealing with this my whole life. Fifteen years of therapy hasn’t undone the record on repeat in my mind. I’ve learned to accept it. It’s become part of who I am. The hardest part for me is to stop myself from believing it on bad days. It’s so tempting to allow my mind to slip into the dark tide. I’ve lived from there for so long, that it’s like a comfy safety blanket from childhood. Sure, I’ve tried almost every antidepressant on the market- and none have helped. I’ve been on mood stabilizers and antipsychotics; all meds just numb me. The thoughts are the same. Dark, angry, full of self hatred. Nothing big pharma has to offer helps. I end up on meds, then more meds to quell the side effects of the original meds. All of a sudden I’m taking four different medications, and noticing how much is the same, just a little bit slower. This is NOT what I want for him. He’s an incredibly gifted and beautiful soul. I know he will go far. He is on a waiting list for therapy, with a local agency. Two months ago, prior to the start of the pandemic, we were told it would be about eight weeks. They had the shortest waiting list in our area, but offered so much he needs. The agency offers individual counseling, family and behavioral therapy, social skills groups, parenting groups, and DBT skills groups for children. I’m praying we are able to get him in there. So much of what they offer fits his, and our, needs. DBT has been a life changer for me, and I’ve only been studying the skills for about a year now. When I’m able to catch myself and remember what skill I need in the moment, it’s miraculous. To be able to give that to my son, at the age of eight, would be wonderful. See, I bet, learning these skills at a young age may make them part of who he is. Unlike trying to reinvent myself at forty… The good news is we are getting along much better – there was no violence or back talk when I said those magical four words: “Time for school work.” He came willingly. I’m doing the exact opposite of what his teachers want, but it’s what works for my child, and therefore me. And yesterday? During remote learning? He didn’t once utter “I’m so stupid.” No, he powered down and proceeded to get every question correct. He received much needed, and well deserved praise. Topped with chocolate ice cream for dessert. ❤️
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Free Appropriate Public Education (FAPE)

So I’ve mentioned how my son was diagnosed with severe ADHD, and a communication disorder in May of 2017 at Boston Children’s Hospital.

We have been working with a developmental pediatrician there since, who believes our son should be on an IEP. We do too, and tried for one, back in kindergarten. The school refused to accept the communication disorder, and chose to give us a 504 plan, stating he does not meet the requirements for an IEP.

After the past two months of remote learning, and both my husband and I trying everything within our power to get our son to work on his schoolwork, with absolutely no success; it’s time to put in another request for an IEP. And now, we are ready to hire an advocate.

The administrator in charge of the 504 plans is the vice principal at the school. She tends to make offhand remarks, without much forethought.

Take, for example, “I was in the classroom yesterday trying to get a good read on S and where he is in relation to his classmates. He really does have the most severe case of ADHD I’ve ever seen, and I’ve been doing this for over twenty years!”

Both my husband and I were stunned, and speechless. The two classroom teachers jumped in and tried to diffuse the comment; but the damage was done, in my mind. How could she make a statement like that, and he not qualify for an IEP?

ADHD qualifies students for an IEP under the health qualification.

His 504 plan is useless to us with remote learning. The accommodations run from extra time for classroom assignments, different styles of teaching (visual, auditory and written), heavy work (when he gets too distracted, send him on an important errand), and on the list goes.

To be honest, most of the accommodations don’t help- as his amazing co-taught classroom teachers explained to us in the last 504 meeting in February. They did work for kindergarten and first grade, but he needs to be present for all the lessons this year. So sending him to the office for busy work when he gets too distracted and hyperactive doesn’t work. He ends up losing out.

What’s become most apparent throughout this entire remote learning experience is that he needs 1:1 intervention, to keep him on task, at all times. This is something the developmental pediatrician has been pushing for since day one. It’s also the most difficult and prohibitive accommodation to have written into an IEP or 504. Schools don’t, and in many cases can’t, afford to provide 1:1 assistance- it’s cost prohibitive to hire on a staff member for just one child.

We’ve tried all their suggestions. We’ve had at least two 504 meetings per year, and been treated as if that’s too much to ask. The results have been less than stellar. His kindergarten and first grade teachers were at their wits end. This year was the first year of medication for him; and with it he was placed in a co-taught classroom with the two best second grade teachers.

His teachers have been going above and beyond for him, and us. The weekly emails and Zoom conferences throughout the school closure will be our documentation for the new request for an IEP. They recommended last week that I can do the writing of his assignments for him, IF he can dictate the words to me. After a full week of trying this, we were able to complete 2/4 days of work.

So now I have to organize, research and plan. I have to email the director of the special education department to request an another evaluation for an IEP. Who knows when it will happen, or how. It has to be done though.

We are losing him. I say, “Okay, time to start some schoolwork in five minutes,” as I set a timer on my phone. At the mere mention of schoolwork, he self destructs. Things get thrown, he breaks his favorite toys, tells me and my husband how much he hates us…. and that’s just the beginning. We can’t reason with him when he is like this. We can’t reach him.

I wish I knew how to reach him. Last night, once things had cooled off some, my husband asked him why does he react like that? And that little seven year old boy was able to articulate: “When I get angry like that, I lose control of my body and just can’t stop. I need help mama and papa,” as the hysterical tears started up again.

I did the only thing I knew how. I held him tight, and let him know I loved him.

I’m hoping to find some answers in this book. Has anyone read it? I’d love any and all suggestions!

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What ADHD is for us…

I want to tell you about the strengths based view of the disorder which we use in our house. I came across this view which Edward Hallowell MD and Peter Jensen MD recommend in their book “Superparenting for ADD”. Instead of looking at what our son can’t do successfully, we are choosing to see what he can succeed at, and all the strengths which travel with his deficits.

Edward Hallowell breaks the news of ADHD to kids in his office by explaining they have a Ferrari race car brain, with bicycle brakes; and that is a most accurate description, for my son. Russell Barkley, one of the great researchers in the field of ADD, conceptualizes ADD as a state of relative disinhibition. The inhibitory circuits in the brain fail to work properly. This leads to the 3 core symptoms of ADD, what Barkley calls the holy trinity of ADD: distractibility, impulsivity and restlessness or hyperactivity.

And here’s where Hallowell gets interesting. He says: “I don’t want you to think of it as a disorder, but rather as a potential gift that can be hard to unwrap.”

See, my son is as Hallowell describes many with ADD. He is a highly imaginative child, with a real knack for thinking outside the box. He is fun loving with a crazy sense of humor, just like his grandfather. He is most intuitive, and often comes up with ideas and solutions to problems, while his father and I are still trying to work out what the actual problem is. He has a special quality which draws people in to him, he’s been described often as an old soul.

I worry more than anything that the constant criticism is going to destroy all this specialness inside him. I’m eternally grateful he chooses not to give up in the face of it – and instead perseveres. He’s tenacious.

Energy, curiosity and creativity are nourished and noticed here in our home. He has a tendency to forgive, being unable to hold a grudge for long. He is big hearted and generous. He is highly sensitive, and also has sudden, unexpected insights. He is love, personified.

And In Hallowell’s book, he speaks with a mom. She’s most concerned that all the good will get lost under all the negative criticisms he has had to deal with. “Not just from school, but me, too.”

Hallowell states: “As is almost always the case with parents of kids who have ADD, Sam’s mom is a wonderful mom. It is only natural that she gets frustrated with him now and then and becomes critical…’It can be unbelievably difficult being the parent of a child with ADD, especially before you have it diagnosed. That’s why today is a good news day. You are all finding out what’s been going on and what to do about it. What to do about it won’t be easy, but life should get considerably better for you all from now on.”

I put these words out there to remind myself of my beautiful child, and what a wonderful soul he has. We have our rough moments, but we make it work. I’m so blessed he chose us. 💕

ADHD stands for attention deficit hyperactivity disorder, a complex brain disorder that impacts approximately 11% of children and almost 5% of adults in the U.S ADHD is a developmental impairment of the brain’s executive functions. People with ADHD have trouble with impulse-control, focusing, and organization.

Neuroscience, brain imaging, and clinical research tell us a few important things: ADHD is not a behavior disorder. ADHD is not a mental illness. ADHD is not a specific learning disability.

ADHD is, instead, a developmental impairment of the brain’s self-management system. Common ADHD symptoms include:

  • inattention
  • lack of focus
  • poor time management
  • weak impulse control
  • exaggerated emotions
  • hyper-focus
  • hyperactivity
  • and executive dysfunction

From ://www.google.com/amp/s/www.additudemag.com/what-is-adhd-symptoms-causes-treatments/amp/

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Small victories

Life is what you make of it, I’m constantly being reminded. 

Living in this new world, I’m finding it imperative to try my best at living in the present moment. 

My husband and I keep picking up the same conversation; needing to be sensitive when it comes to our son.He will be turning eight years old at the end of July, and has been hyper focusing on his birthday for over a month. It just occurred to me last week that his birthday may be one of the only concrete, positive things to look forward to. 

School has been cancelled for the year, play dates too. Camp is probably cancelled, the beaches are closed. Our “beach nana” from Canada, who comes and stays a week at a time, five times per summer, may not be down to visit, with the border being closed. Our favorite splash pad probably won’t be opening. 

Basically, we are facing a summer without the usual fun. The Fourth of July parades and fireworks have been cancelled across the state, as has our cities blessing of the fleet celebration. I’m not sure what we will do to fill the hours this year. I know we will figure it out.

Every spring, we plant a vegetable garden, with high hopes. My attention to watering wanes towards the end of July, and the poor plants don’t do well. Perhaps this year we will have the time and energy to really care for it. I have a strong helper now, curious and incredibly knowledgeable about gardening. I’ve taught him everything I know about gardening, and he has retained it. These are the lessons I think are most important, and will be a useful skill throughout his life. 

I am planning to teach him how to cook this summer as well. We come from a big family of foodies; my father is a professionally trained chef, and his 91 year old mother is still cooking and baking for the family visits. I grew up in a restaurant kitchen, and feel most at home behind a stove. I hope to pass this along to my son. He already impresses us by his varied palate, and choices he makes. (baked Haddock instead of the kids chicken nuggets). Tonight I plan to have him help me make New England Baked Haddock with a cracker crumb topping. Earlier in the week, we made a banana cake with a cream cheese frosting that was a hit with everyone who tried it – including his grandparents. 

I’m learning as I go along. Right now I’m reading “Super-parenting for ADD” by Edward M. Hallowell M. D. and Peter S. Jensen M.D.. They emphasize three important goals for parents of ADD/ADHD: 

Unconditional love: tune out the diagnosticians and simply nourish the spirit of your child for who he is 

Viewing the mirror traits: recognize the positive sides of the negative symptoms associated with ADD: stubbornness= persistence; impulsiveness= creativity; intrusiveness = eagerness. 

The cycle of excellence: nurture an environment in which a child can safely take risks, reserve time to let a child dabble as a way to learn, encourage playful practice, support mastery of a skill, and then recognize a child’s accomplishments. 

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School Refusal

When I became a mother, I was warned that my heart now would live outside my body; in my child.

It’s true, my heart fills with his successes, and breaks with each failure (and right now, he’s seeing so much failure in his life with schooling – and my hands are tied). I’ve followed the protocols- reaching out to his teachers often, updating them weekly on his refusal to remote learn. We have tried numerous creative solutions, with no positive results.

I DON’T BLAME HIM. Not one bit. This is more than should be expected of any second grader; especially one with learning disabilities.

Yesterday we made it to the Zoom meeting, and that’s it. I couldn’t bring myself to even attempt to try to get him to work on his assignments. Not after hearing him tell me all day Monday “I’m so stupid,” on repeat.

See, this whole remote learning has shredded his self esteem. He witnesses his classmates attending to Zoom, in a way he can’t. He is so bright – his teachers and developmental pediatrician both remind us of this whenever we meet; and it’s blatant when conversing with him. His vocabulary is stronger than most adults I know, and it amazes me, daily. Yesterday, he was able to get us back on track while on a hike – without a map or compass. His sense of direction was in tune, better than my GPS. He creatively solves problems for me, all the time.

I am so proud of my little boy. But it’s breaking my heart to see what these insurmountable demands from the school are doing to him, mentally. I feel backed into a corner. My mama bear instincts want to call it all off – but I’m sure that would invite repercussions into our home.

He is a wiggly one, always on the go. At five he articulated to me: “Mama, sometimes my brain says stop but my body keeps going. What do I do?”

We’ve learned to work around these issues. We hike, deep into the woods, many times per week. Nature grounds our home – and burning off energy makes schoolwork easier. We don’t follow any specific diets, but do try to eat more of a whole food approach. We don’t have a TV, and that definitely helps. I know a strict schedule and routine is helpful, but we generally aim to do things around the same time each day.

I try, in my own way, to use life as teaching moments. Like baking a cake, or keeping a nature journal, or tracking our vegetable garden, daily, in our journal. He’s learning so much, elsewhere, and reads on his own now. Doesn’t this count?

I don’t know what I’m trying to say here. I guess it’s just to admit defeat, letting the world know I’m at the epicenter of parental failure. I want nothing more than to protect this little soul – hold him close and not let any of this hurt who he is as a person; but know that goes against what is expected of me, as a pandemic parent, and now part time teacher.

Yesterday, an article from http://www.understood.org showed up in my email. It was perfectly timed.

School Refusal: What It Means When Kids Won’t Do Schoolwork

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‘It Was Just Too Much’: How Remote Learning Is Breaking Parents

www.nytimes.com/2020/04/27/nyregion/coronavirus-homeschooling-parents.html

I love my son with all my heart, and we both love learning and sharing what we learn. We also lucked out this year and have an amazing duo of dedicated teachers for his second grade class. They have been so on top of making remote learning fun and exciting each day.

However, I know I’m not alone when I say it’s getting to be next to impossible for he and I to remote learn these days. The schedule is supposed to be 9-11:10, four days per week. We still have yet to finish Monday’s work, and it’s Thursday.

I made the executive decision yesterday to take a day off for both of our mental health; and we spent the day outside exploring instead. We connected, and had a wonderful day – all three of us.

My appreciation for all teachers, especially his, has grown exponentially over the past six weeks. I can’t imagine where teachers find such patience. How they are able to teach my child’s class via Zoom, while also teaching their own children.

This article is so well written. Please read if you have a chance.

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And so here we are…

Seven weeks into the stay at home order in our state, is where I begin our story. Corona virus has turned our world upside down, as it has for everyone else on our planet.

Where to begin… my son is a sweet, sensitive and loving soul. He is incredibly intelligent, and loves learning. However, he has learning disabilities which often get in the way of his schooling, and life skills. As a family, we’ve sought out professional evaluations through our children’s hospital, and his school. Unfortunately, we were unable to secure an IEP for him, and instead he has a 504 education plan. When school is in session, the accommodations do help facilitate learning for him, but at home, with remote learning, I’m unable to provide what he needs.

See, I’m not a teacher. I’m a mom, a wife, a sister, daughter, friend. My background is in office administration. Need a spreadsheet? I’m your woman. I’ve stepped up to the plate though. Or at least tried to.

See, we are in week seven of mandatory remote learning. We have been incredibly lucky. Our district was the first to have remote learning set up; and they have each day split up into four distinct subjects, with activities to keep the children entertained and interested. The first five weeks went better than I’d expected- he was excited to Zoom to school daily, and see all of his friends and teachers.

Something changed two weeks ago. This boy doesn’t want to see anyone anymore. He wants nothing to do with his school work. No amount of bribery, losing of privileges or creative scheduling helps. Positive and negative parenting attempts have failed. We still have six weeks left and I fear the consequences of his refusal to cooperate.

I’m embarrassed to admit defeat. I’m at a point where I just don’t know what to do anymore. I feel like I’m failing my child, and my family. This is not a place I want to live from.

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