On the driving of children
Daniel’s new school is a really long way away. The school moved over the summer and I (in utter denial) had not really bothered to find out where the new building was before we said, yes yes yes, we’d love to come here. I had heard the admissions person explain that the new building was only a few minutes down the road and took her completely at her word. A few minutes? Sure! No problem! What’s a few extra minutes.
Yah. It’s twenty minutes down the road. Further away. Which means that, as of now, I’m spending a hefty portion of every day driving — at least three hours total. This would already have driven me to drink except…
…except that Daniel is clearly doing well. He has already managed to argue with his new teacher about whether the planet Earth is alive, on the basis that atoms are alive (Daniel says that they are) and she has found a way to negotiate this with him. She has found a scientist whose has theorized something similar and given Daniel that information. She has conceded that there is a possibility that atoms are, in fact, alive and that therefore the earth is potentially alive. Daniel has conceded that this is a very slim possibility, even a slight possibility, but feels vindicated in his own beliefs. And so science class can suddenly continue and Daniel is content. Content! At school! It is almost beyond hoping for. He seems calmer in himself. He cheerfully springs out the door to school. To know how miraculous this is, know that by the third day of preschool (three years ago) he was fed up. And while, over the years, they came closer to “getting” him, they never really did. And he never really liked going to school. And every morning was a battle.
So, how far would I drive to get Daniel to a place where his quasi-genius, socially struggling, emotionally volatile, passionate conceptualizer of living matter self can breathe, learn and actually like being at school? To the moon and back again. In comparison, this is just down the road.
And, you know, we sorta like being in the car. We listen to music, or to stories, or argue about whether the earth is an organism or just a rock, or we sing, or just let the scenery roll past. It’s a good time.
I think car time totally can be fun. Becca and I sing, tell stories and Becca reads a lot.
I also think that it is awesome that you take him to the place that he excels at! The teacher sounds wonderful!
Sometimes I think about how much I complain in my head about Aidan and how difficult he is, and when I come here and read about Daniel, and how he is similarly difficult- somehow the way you see it all, and your acceptance and humour about it, makes me feel reaffirmed about my own crazy nutty son.
I am so glad he has a fellow quasi-genius, out there in cyberspace.
Love ya Stunts, as always.
He’s a bright chap, isn’t he?
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gaia_theory_(science)
You rock for being so willing to find a school that is right for him and to do what it takes to keep him there–the extra mile and then some.
Now if you could only knit and drive at the same time. . . . .
I’m so glad they get him. And I’m grateful for your advice on another little man who is struggling with school. This morning he bounced in with conkers which he’d found en route to show his teachers. No tears.
Maybe all the hassle you had, trying to find the right school was fate…?
“And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should” Desiderata.
I am so glad Daniel is happy. And thank you for restoring my faith today!
that boy
is
amazing.
utterly so.
wow.