Sure, we can try to reverse-brainwash our son, and we intend to bring him up with our own worldview in contrast to what he is taught at school. But how do we trump the “secrets” that his classmates reveal to him when some of they may be coming from such mangled and dysfunctional homes that what they bring to school in their little backpacks and what comes out of their mouths might be best described as evil? » [more]

Wednesday Night

They had a meet-the-teacher open house and we talked to her about his ADHD and his intelligence, preparing her for the wonder that is our son. But, as is often the case when we try to explain AJ, she gave us the smile and nod and we could tell that in the back of her mind was “Every parent thinks their child is special …” In spite of that she told us that if he seemed a little ahead of the learning curve, she’d up his work a little. When she asks the class to identify the first letter in the word Apple and then write it, if he gets that right, she’ll ask him to also write the rest of the word. Things like that. Sounded like a good plan. She’s a wonderful lady and seems like she’s totally open to working with him at his level.

Thursday, the First Day

I got AJ up, Gave him his meds, fed him breakfast and sent him to get dressed in the outfit he’d personally picked out. He looked smashing in his dark shorts and blue-striped collared shirt. We drove him to school, Took the pictures that moms take, hugged him and sent him off to the next stage of his life.

Went back to pick him up and the teacher pulled us aside quickly with “I need to talk to you.” There was a nervous smile followed by the words I always assumed I’d hear, but still had hoped not to: “We had a really bad first day.”

She went on to explain that he was unable to remain in his seat and sometimes not even at his table. He couldn’t stop talking and interjecting examples of everything she was trying to teach. (example: “A is the first letter in apple” “Yeah, but it’s also for Alligator, Avalanche, AJ, Acorn ….”) And the worst (my word, not hers) part was that he was more bossy than a usual 5-year old. he was very, very rules-driven. When it was time to write letters, he’d tell the other kids over and over that they were doing it wrong. Eventually he’d give them his paper and tell them, “just use mine, I’ll do another one” (LOL) And really, he was just trying to help. As funny as it is, other kids don’t like to be told over and over that they are doing something new wrong. And she and the aide in the class had to constantly stand next to him and stop him from hurting others’ feelings and to give support to the other kids.

There was a Special Ed teacher in the room for a bit, too, watching another child. She couldn’t help but notice AJ. She said he was the only one in the class that could color in the lines, add embellishments to the picture, label parts of the picture, write a story around the picture — none of these things were suggested, he just did them. But she said we should talk to our doctor about the “busy-ness”. when I told her that he’s already been diagnosed and is medicated, she was shocked. Apparently, the meds did nothing to help calm him down. He was a nightmare to control — but at the same time, had the teacher laughing to herself. I think the reaction was a new place, new people and a huge desire to please others. I hope that after the newness wears off, the meds will go back to doing their thing. Otherwise, we’ll have to up the dose. And I really don’t want to do that.

One of the things that made her laugh was when she explained the bathroom to the kids. (Accessible from the classroom.) She told them: Door closed means someone is in there. Door open means it’s empty. Leave the light on all the time so kids are not afraid to go into a dark room. To which AJ replied: “What will we do if the filament in the lightbulb goes out?” That was a shocker for her. but she was quick: “We’ll ask the fix-it man to come replace it.” “But … what happens if the electricity to the school goes out and even a bulb with a new filament won’t turn on?” That had her stumped.

“We’ll deal with it when it happens.”

When I was talking to her about all of this, she was smiling and laughing about the stories, so I knew she didn’t want to insult us, only keep us up-to-speed on how he’s doing. She also admitted that when we’d told her he’s extra-smart and special, etc., the night before, that she had indeed assumed we were normal parents and didn’t really believe us. She admitted that she understood now what we meant. He’s high-functioning and hard to control. But she has high hopes for him because his brain allows him to learn things faster than normal, he’ll be able to learn the rules of the class, and she’ll continue to make Kindergarten as challenging to him as she can, even if it means bringing in books from the 4th- and 5th-grade classes for him during reading time.

I love her.

And when we walked out to the car, he said, “Mom, I LOVE school!!!!”

Side note: when we got home, I realized he’d gotten dressed, but not undressed. He still had his jammies on under his clothes.

—Jennifer

I’m flush with Oreos–or AJ doing his part to ease world hunger

Heh heh.

Rich
BlogRodent

Rich
BlogRodent

I just wanted to be the first to bring that accusation (if you haven not gotten it already).

I know sarcasm does not translate well on the web so let it be noted that I am joking.

Our sons are quite similar. Isaac had his first day of kindergarden last week. I keep waiting for NASA to come offer him a job.