My Quirky Kid: Notes From School

3.1.12 (I wrote this a while ago, but I'm just not getting around to posting it)

It’s been far too long since my last update, but Cortney has been traveling a ton and while he’s gone, I capitalize on not having another adult to talk to and exit straight to bed right after the boys fall asleep. Can’t lie—I get at least 10 hours of sleep a night when he’s gone. Although, maybe that’s a prime indicator of my recent stress levels that I can perpetually succumb to that much sleep. Either way, I always wake up extremely satisfied with my decision to go to bed early even though it means my writing gets pushed off to yet another night.

Lots of updates to give. Let’s start with a doozey—The District. Will went in for a district speech evaluation at the end of February and in the same sentence that the speech therapist was telling me that Will is only speaking/processing verbal language at a 2.5 year-old (1.5 years behind!!!!), she also mentioned that Will was still on the cusp of being “at risk” and in need of services.

Everything about this ridiculous scenario aside, I used to have a utopian vision of education, where if a student struggled, a caring teacher, paired with an equally caring principle, counseled with the parents to help this student succeed no matter the situation. But now I’ve been tainted and my view of education (or education of a special needs child, anyway) to that of a bureaucracy full of red tape and other crap. A week later, Will was in a fist fight at school (will explain later) and I called the district to tell them about it and advocate that Will receive services immediately because it was so obvious that he needed intervention ASAP. Nope. No can do, due to scheduling conflicts and upcoming Spring Break and we will still have to wait until April 10 for our eligibility hearing to get any answers (keep in mind we started this process in early January). I’ve had such a wide spectrum of emotions with this process, that I think I’ve finally become numb to it all. I don’t even know who to be mad at anymore. Is this awful, completely unstreamlined, inefficient process due to politicians making poor laws? Tax payers not wanting to pay more, forcing budget cuts? Teacher’s Union? Who knows. But they sure as hell could use Dr. Hill and some serious supply chain/operations consulting to get their “processes” a little easier on everyone.

I reiterated all of my concerns with the speech therapist at the district and said, “Look, you’re not listening to me. This is what I’m telling you—you’re not testing the right thing.” I explained yet again that the bigger issue was Will’s auditory processing in a group setting and that they have come nowhere near quantifying that at all. These processing delays were authoring some pretty hefty behavior issues at school and at home. Not to outdo their (District) already underwhelming presence, the speech therapist hadn’t looked over Will’s file at all, or any of the letters I had preschool teachers/speech pathologists/social workers write in his behalf—so frustrating.

In business school, we often referred to “buzz words” in conversation. These “buzz words” are little phrases put into sentences when you’re making a comment in class that essentially say, “I wasn’t paying attention, but I can make you think I was” or when talking with friends/non-business personnel to say, “yeah, I’m kind of a big deal. I went to business school and I can use big words” Typical “buzz words” include: Wall Street Journal, core competencies, net present value, Five C’s, value proposition, etc. See, don’t you feel impressed just reading those?

Anyway, I’ve had to learn an entire new vocabulary of “buzz words” when I’m advocating for Will, but boy, do they work. You start throwing around phrases like “unable to self-soothe”, “sensory issues”, “attachment difficulty”, etc. and those district people start squirming in their seats.

After throwing around a few more “buzz words” (I think I may have even thrown in a “difficulty in being a cohesive family unit” at them), the speech therapist brought me back to the quacky board room, again, to plead my case. They seemed semi sympathetic this time—no doubt in reference to the power of the almighty “buzz words” and ordered more evaluations for Will. Further psychological evaluation and observation at school, and a social cultural history with a social worker.

In the meantime, Will’s teacher, Mrs. Weiss, has told me that Will has begun banging his head on the table at school during snack time.

Insert gut-wrenching-pit-in-your-stomach here.

Seriously, this kid is losing it.

And, fast.

I was at such a loss for words, I don’t know if I even responded to her. I know head banging is a common form of relieving stress for kids, but it seemed so drastic to me and only something a really troubled kid would do.

I frantically called members of the “Dream Team”—Dr. Middleton and C.N.C. respectively, to ask for help. Both were soothing voices of reason that this wasn’t as big of a deal as I thought it was, but that this was a good indicator of just how frustrated Will was.

I became constantly, downright obsessively, worried about him. I asked Mrs. Weiss to send home a note with any behavior problems Will had that day at school. Each day they got worse and I almost had to gear myself up to even look in his backpack for the note, because I knew it wouldn’t be good news. Everything from “didn’t want to play with anyone”, “pushed anyone away who came near him”, to “not able to participate in story time and music time due to instability”.
I called my Dad one particular afternoon and I sobbed, “My sweet little boy is slipping through my fingers.” I just seemed like nothing was working.

Around this same time, and partly due to the fact that Will was having so many behavior problems, we decided to start occupational therapy ASAP. This would help him learn how to be in control of his body when he was anxious or angry and teach him how to calm himself down in situations where he was uncomfortable, in addition to tackling his sensory issues and a few other things.

The problem with this is we live in a well populated area and trying to find the right therapist is like trying to find a minnow in the sea—there are just too many to even know where to start looking. And the few that I had called were booked for at least a month. What was I to do?

A few days later I picked Will up at school and Mrs. Weiss said that Will had to stay inside during recess because he had been in a fist fight. Again, at a complete loss for words. What do you say when your three year-old is in a fist fight?

I kept my emotions intact until we got home and then it all came out.

I had never felt more frustrated in my entire life.

My child needed help desperately, but yet the District hadn’t made a decision yet, and no one else had time to see us, and nothing I was trying at home was working. I was angry, furious actually, and if I had had a glass cup in my hand, I would have thrown it again the wall as hard as I could.

Instead, I just threw up my hands in the air and screamed, “That’s it!!!” followed by about a million swear words in my head.
I text Cort (away on business) and said, “Call every temple you can. Put Will’s name on the Prayer Roll.” We both spent the next 20 minutes calling every temple that was open in the U.S. We had the entire Eastern time-zone and half of the central time-zone covered shortly.

I felt so helpless and it seemed like the best and only option for any real change for Will.

Later that day, I met up with two mothers from our ward who have sons within a year or two of Will’s age. I honestly debated not going for a while. I mean, my son had already been in a fist fight that day. Adding more potential victims to the mix didn’t seem like such a swell idea. But it was a beautiful day I figured I needed the company as much as anyone. Will screeched with excitement to see them when we pulled up to the park. The boys ran and played and played and ran for two hours. Taking into account the events of the day and the previous week, this was a glorious sight. My little boy was so happy and he was relishing in the newfound friendships he had before him, especially when, from all reports, it seems he doesn’t have any friends at school.

We played until it was dark out and all the boys were sad to see Will leave. It made my heart soar! He was the happiest I had seen him in weeks. We went home, he ate dinner (shock!) and went to bed without any trouble.

My mind is reeling, still. Maybe school is just too structured for Will. Maybe he needs a more active P.E. based education. Maybe it was just the freedom of running through the wooded park, laughing with other kids that made Will feel like himself again.

It was a lot to take in, but I was forced to focus my thoughts and attitude on the ending of the day: a little boy feeling accepted and love from his peers for the first time in months.