Sometimes, There Isn't a Band-Aid Big Enough

When you have a child with issues, the beginning of every school year is cause for stomache clenching uncertainty. A good teacher can mean a world of difference to any child, but to a child with a learning disability, it can mean the difference between misery and triumph.

Last year, Diminutive One's teacher was completely uninterested in helping me help him. It was frustrating and demoralizing for both of us. The years that he has had good teachers, he has absolutely soared. He liked himself. He believed in himself as a smart kid. But the bad ones have set him back so far it's sometimes hard not to feel a cold hard surge of anger at their careless dismissal of him.

This year, I am enormously encouraged. His teacher has been patient, constructive, and eager to assist in making the classroom environment work for him. And...best of all, she believes in creative teaching. I could have wallpapered my whole house with the worksheets Diminutive One did last year. He was bored silly. He shut down. And then, because he made no progress, he once again began to think he was stupid. And the hell of it is...he is so not stupid.

Anyway...at a meeting the other day, she asked for volunteers to fulfill various roles in the classroom. One of which was "Creative Curriculum Parent". Can you guess who was holding her hand in the air, supported at the elbow by the other and hollering "OOH! OOH! OOH!" like Arnold Horshack on crack? Yes. That would have been me.

I got the job.

Basically, I will be working with her to come up with fun, interesting, and different ways to teach the required curriculum. How. Cool. Is. THAT.

So that's good.

But there's this other little matter.

Though Diminutive One passed the portions of the CRCT required to move on to fourth grade, he did not pass math. There are two reasons for this. First, math is difficult for kids with ADHD. At this stage of the game, there are multiple steps, which require a lot of focus. If you miss a step, you've messed up the entire problem. Second, he hates math and so, he has simply refused to learn the facts that he needs to know in order to perform more complicated equations. He does not know his multiplication tables, for instance.

Oh, we tried. I bought flashcards. I won't even tell you what a nightmare that was. I bought a "multiplication rap" CD for him, thinking that because he likes music so much, this would be a great way for him to learn. But he's no dummy. He knew what I was trying to pull. And oddly enough, a week after I brought it home, that CD disappeared. We tried rewards. We tried punishment. And the response to each and every tactic was a resounding screw you. Not a literal screw you, but an attitudinal screw you.

So. He now qualifies for special assistance in math, which I think is a GOOD thing. I mean, it's kind of stupid that the kid has to fail before he qualifies for help (I'd been begging for help for him in math but was told since he had scored well the year before last, he didn't qualify.) but, yannow...better late than never. He CAN learn math, he just needs a little more attention and instruction, which he will now be getting.

So today I told him that he would be starting EIP (Early, my left foot. They should call it the finally pulled their thumb out of their ass and realized the kid needs help intervention program, but I suppose that's a somewhat burdensome acronym.) next week.

First, his face crumpled. Then, he thunked his head down onto his arms, which were folded on the dining room table. Then he started to cry. He doesn't like anyone to see him cry, so he fled to his room. He slammed the door and buried his face in his pillow, but I could still hear him sobbing his little heart out.

He's a pretty stoic kid, so when he cries, I come undone. I know he's hurt deep down, and that hurts me deep down.

I gave him a few minutes and then went upstairs. I knocked on the door and was told to "GO AWAY". But I didn't.

I rubbed his back for a minute and then asked him why, exactly, that upset him so much. I knew, of course. We've all been that kid a time or two. The one who was, in some infinitesimal way...different. But to be so publicly different...well, it sucks.

"Mom", he sobbed, "Everybody is going to know that I'm STUPID!!!"

How the hell do you refute that?? Because that's exactly what every kid will be thinking when the aide comes to the classroom each day. And I felt his heartbreak and shame as if it were my own. I said the only thing I could think of.

"You're NOT stupid. Don't I tell you that all the time? You know what? I was really bad at math too. But I wish I had tried a little harder. I told you how poorly I did in school, and how it made me feel so terrible about myself. I don't want that for you."

"It doesn't matter if I try or not. I'll always be too dumb to do math."

"Well..." I said, searching for the right thing to say, becuase Dr. Spock doesn't tell you what to do about THIS shit..."You've already tried not trying and that's not working so good, right? You are SO smart, that I think if you did try, you would blow yourself away. Seriously."

He looked at me dubiously. I'm just his Mom. He knows Moms are supposed to say stuff like that. It isn't really my opinion that matters to him at this point in his life anyway

I changed my tack.

"Look...you told me Andrea had to have a resource teacher for reading last year, right?"

He nodded morosely.

"Did anybody think she was stupid?"

His face, which had cleared a little while I talked, crumpled once again and he wailed..."I DIIIIIIIIIDD!!!"

I gave up talking and just hugged him. If he were bleeding or broken in some way, I would know just what to do. But how do you fix a kid with a fractured self?

A word to Moms whose children are young enough that their ailments can still be kissed away...sometimes there isn't a band-aid big enough to cover the hurt. And sometimes, you, as a mother, will feel crushingly powerless.

So here is my secret recipe for dealing with those kinds of situations.

1 ice cream cone
1 hug
1 lifted ban on prohibited activities even though it's a weekday
100 I believe in yous.

Combine all ingredients. Apply liberally to injured soul.