A different child
Daniel’s been doing well at school for the past couple of months, which I attribute to his developing character, his hard work, a lot of patience (from him and from those around him) and a generally tolerant attitude from those running the school. He’s losing his temper much much less. Not hitting or kicking. Not screaming with rage. Not running out of the classroom when he can’t cope any longer. He is, in fact, settling down after an enormous upheaval. We are proud of how well he is doing, without expecting that it will carry on indefinitely because that’s not what life (and development) is like. There are ups and downs and right now, we’re happy to have an up period.
His teacher, however, has chosen to describe this welcome development like this:
“He’s been so good, he’s like a different child.”
She has not said this to me ONCE (although I barely contained my rage the first time). She has said this to me a dozen times. More. She wants to know what we’re doing differently. If we’ve finally taken her oh-so-frakking-wise advice and medicated him. If we have him in some super-de-dooper therapy. Of course, we’re doing nothing differently. We’re just trusting in Daniel to grow into himself, that he will figure things out, that he will learn self-control, patience and grace. And we pour into him our trust and patience (or try to. On good days, we do). But we are not trying to fix him, because he is not broken.
And still she says to me, “He’s like a different child.”
And every single time she has said it, especially today when she said it to me while my arm was around my tired and somewhat frazzled child, I have said this:
“No, not a different child. The same child. The same exact child. All that wonderfulness you’re noticing now, that’s right there in Daniel. All that struggling he did, that’s Daniel too. The same child.”
Aren’t we all like this? Good days and bad, moments of grace and moments of struggle? Can we not let our children be thus too?
Not a different child at all. Just my child.
Wow. You are so right and she is … not a very good listener. To put it mildly.
Oh. My. God. Can I come kneecap her for you? How do these people BECOME teachers in the first place? (Me, I have the good sense to know that I am barely patient, warm or loving enough to struggle to understand and nurture my own two babes, let alone 20 children of others. Apparently she’s a bit less self aware.)
Well done for sticking up for Daniel in his teacher’s presence too. That must be wonderfully affirming for him.
Good for you for standing up for Daniel, and resist the urge to medicate his “Danielness” away.
This was just what I needed to see now too. My 4 yo Guthrie is, well, very Guthrie, and I’ve been having a hard time – my husband just keeps telling me he’s a typical 4 yo boy, and he will grow. I told him other parents would probably put him on Ritalin (which I would never consider). I needed to read this, and see that he is, if not normal, not alone.
So sad that teachers just want to medicate rather than deal with the children. Hearing this just makes me even more certain I want to homeschool. (NOT that it’s a criticism or I think everyone else should!)
So glad Daniel is finding a better, calmer place for himself at the moment – and so proud of you and Ed for trusting yourselves and Daniel to get there. Hope it lasts a while… (and if not, you know it will come back round again…)
Oh yes, go Mama! I can remember picking up my (sensitive, melancholic, prickly, creative, shy four and a half year old boy) from a highly recommended and sought after preschool- and having the director tell me, while my child was at my side, that he was “going to have a lot of trouble at school. He just doesn’t want to come in from the sandpit and do the group work.He wants to play on his own.He doesn’t want to interact with the other children.” I was a young mother and not confident speaking my mind in the moment, but went home furious, wrote a long letter to her, and pulled him out of the preschool. Seventeen years later, my son is having a wonderful life at college studying French and poetry. Surprise surprise, he is still sensitive, melancholy, prickly,creative and shy, but he is also funny, kind, generous and hard working, with lots of friends and a stable loving relationship with his girlfriend- and is building a big beautiful life for himself. It’s true, school wasn’t always easy for him, particularly in early and middle childhood, but gradually,over years, he found all the counterbalancing qualities that made his road easier. And yes, we too just loved and trusted him as he was. (And yes, we worried as well) I asked him recently how he coped with those hard times at school (as our youngest was going through a tough patch and I thought he might have some insights) and he said straight away, “Home made it all bearable.” So keep on, brave loving parents, I’m cheering from over here.
i have missed you…
i lost you for a bit
in the changing of the blog template
but i have come looking for you
only to find you have traded ships
but still sailing forward…
and i am happy to have found you.
and especially now,
after having our boy’s teacher
fleetingly use the word ADD in
parent teacher interviews yesterday
and after a year of not feeling listened to
by said teacher…
i need some empathy.
i need to know that this is not isolated.
that i
am not
isolated.
so…in a long winded way, hey! it’s good to see you again!
:0)
Oh, that would drive me INSANE! Good for you for speaking up right then & right where Daniel can hear you.
i love you stunts. what a great thing you said to her. I wish more parents I see could have this perspective- many of the parents i see want desperately for their child to take their psychiatric medications- and sometimes, they really are ok not on them. And the ups and downs really are ok. And human.
Wow! That’s so great and brave of you. And articulate! I always think those things and never say them. I’m usually to shocked or too chocked with rage to respond. Well done and well placed and well timed- good for you and mothers and kids everywhere. I’ve missed your writing. It’s a connection to you that I treasure.
This is a brilliant post. Having grown up in the black hole of parenting that is India, I would have loved to have had this view to embrace. I feel a lot of empathy for Daniel. And for my 14 year old cousin Matthew who I am tutoring in Math and English, both of which he is utterly rubbish in (he is learning disabled). Yes, my child, my unique lovely beautiful child who has so much to offer and be loved for.