I’m not sure if I told y’all this, but last May I entered into conversations with the local elementary school about partial enrollment for BigGuy. I wanted him in math and science. They wanted him to start with art, music and phys ed. Ummmm… nothanks. And they wanted him to take some math test that would have determined whether he could be in advanced math… even though he wasn’t going to be put in math at the school. Ummmm… no, thanks again.
Wait, wait, wait… I don’t mean for this to sound like the district people are unhelpful morons. Quite the opposite. Honestly and truly. Continue reading Testing, testing… 1, 2, 3→
So, my sweet girl totally thinks that watching Sesame Street is “schoolwork”. Because I effectively trained her that way. Now when she wants to watch TV, she asks to do “schoolwork”. Wow… Continue reading Girly’s “schoolwork”→
We are a pretty holistic family. We’re not anti-medicine, we just see it as a last resort and find that our mainstream medical community works best in the realm of emergency medicine. We try to stay out of that.
BigGuy has a broad range of challenges, including an immune deficiency that makes him prone to respiratory illness. Mama’s boy. Because Mama can catch pneumonia like it’s her job (although in the last decade, only when EXTREMELY stressed–so maybe twice). BigGuy started life with a collapsed lung (born a bit premature at 35 weeks, but the neonatalogist estimated his development was more like 32-33 weeks). We passed on the RSV vaccine and he managed to avoid getting it. He spent his childhood with recurrent croupe and was diagnosed with Reactive Airway Disease (RAD) that the pulminologist assured us would turn into asthma (even if we treated the RAD–which we wound up not doing).
To be honest, we have kept BigGuy healthier than anyone thought we could’ve without drugs. When he was 8mo old, they warned us to expect at least 4 hospitalizations each year. At 10 years old, he has had one. When he was almost 5, his doctor questioned that he had the immune deficiency she diagnosed him with (and that ordeal is worth an entire entry of it’s own, but let’s just nutshell it and note that we changed peds).
His last pediatrician in NJ attributes this to 1) how we eat; 2) his ability to sleep as needed because of a lack of school schedule; and 3) our ability to limit his exposure to MORE germs when he’s already fighting stuff off. Big, big stuff. Our kids drink water. Period. Outside of times of significant stress, our food comes from local farms and most of it without a label. Eating out not only destroys our health, but it also destroys our finances–so when we enter those phases, they don’t last long.
About a week and a half ago, Girly ran a nasty fever. We felt certain it was related to getting her 6yo molars–which we could see popping through in her mouth. All. four. of them. It explained a lot of weird things we had seen in the prior months–including what we thought was a migraine in her. But she had one really bad night of fever and being awake, and then she was fine. Not even congested. We thought nothing of it. Our hosts for the weekend asked that we delay our morning departure to get a strep test just in case. We did, and she was cleared. Off we went.
But while we were there, our son had a brief but weird cough. I thought I heard a wheeze in it. Despite his issues, he had never wheezed. A while later when he yawned, I thought I heard another wheeze. That was the end of it. We’ve now been home almost a full week. BigGuy and Papa were at a choir retreat ALL day Saturday–leaving the house at 7am and returning at 6pm… and then promptly joining us at a block party until easily 11pm. Sunday night, around 7:30pm, BigGuy sneezed more times than I’ve ever heard him sneeze in his life. Sneezing is our canary in the coal mine (for both he and I). It’s the warning shot. We all got to bed and Monday morning I woke to my Facebook feed including articles about ten states having contacted the CDC for assistance in investigating clusters of enterovirus–including Illinois.
I have to be honest: the last two years have been hell on my family as my untreated PTSD got to a point where I had to attend a 3-week intensive outpatient program last fall. Every preventative care protocol we had in place has been shot to hell. Our eating has been worse than ever (which is still better than many, but not good enough to manage an immune deficiency and two people with severe blood sugar issues on diet alone). And the stress has been through the roof–which severely compromises your immune system. To say that I’m nervous is an understatement.
We also usually step up our preventative care protocols about a week before school starts since that brings it’s own crazy germ-fest; and is quickly followed by FluMist season (which is a live virus vaccine that can easily be spread… but please don’t let me get on the tirade about the doctors almost never warning people to stay away from the immune compromised 😡 )
Needless to say, I need us to take it easy this week in terms of stress and exertion. But I also need us to step things up in prevention. For us that means:
Daily probiotics (google for research on probiotics and colds in children)
Daily dose of elderberry syrup (google for research about effects on flu and respiratory illness)
Daily dose of fish oil (more for overall neurological health and blood sugar regulation–because keeping the body in balance helps immensely)
Checking my stock of Young Living RC and Raven oils. The RC has been a God-send for Girly’s post-nasal drip and put an end to middle-of-the-night vomit sheets and blankets. The Raven is a heavier hitting respiratory warrior (pneumonia, asthma, tuberculosis).
Plenty of bay leaves, thyme and lemon juice for decongestant tea.
Epsom salt, baking soda and lavendar for foot baths and body baths.
It’s concerning that there was a wheeze where there never has been before. On the flip, we’ve eaten pretty horribly and these things are strongly affected by diet.
Needless to say, a morning of scheduled schoolwork is bound to NOT go well in this house. Mama gets all panicky and goes into teacher/project manager mode rather than Mama mode. It’s like a flip of a switch. And then when BigGuy does anything other than sit at a desk and belt out work as if he were in a classroom, I lose it.
Suddenly, he is 20 years older and a bum or a prisoner or living with me for the rest of his life and I’m hearing everyone tell me all the things he could’ve been “if he’d have been in school”… as if this trajectory could be backed by evidence. And of course, if he enters now and fails miserably it will be because he needed to be in school earlier. Of course. Because ya know–it’s not like we had a reason to pull him out, people… right? People don’t see that. And those that do would say “But you could’ve put him back in before now.” No matter what parenting decision you make, it’s just going to be wrong.
Whatever. His complete lack of discipline or perseverance towards a goal (keep in mind that this was all his idea) make me LOSE. MY. SH!T. I know what makes a successful person and it’s the ability to face a difficulty and take it on. Even if you don’t overcome it, just having the ability to attempt getting through it is so huge. And he completely lacks that. And it’s so polar opposite to the person I am at my core that I cannot even understand how he will function in life. Ever.
BigGuy’s IQ puts him in the 99.9% percentile of human intelligence. This is beyond Mensa. There are organizations that I didn’t even know existed for this kind of intelligence. Sometimes, it’s hard to NOT see that he’s a bright kid. But he also has Asperger’s and sometimes the connections between work and reward/success or other relational connections are completely absent. I can’t bank on the neurotypical developmental trajectory that would say “He’ll get it someday… maybe at 22, but it will come” because for BigGuy, it truly may never come. When he was younger, the therapists were so lost because there was no consistent “currency” to work with him–no consistent motivator. There is no carrot you can dangle in front of him to bribe him; and nothing he loves enough to motivate him on his own. Truly. Now, at 10, there are definitely some motivators, but nothing that pushes him hard. Even his strongest interests do not push him to do simple things if he just doesn’t feel like doing them. So losing his Minecraft time is not enough to make him brush his teeth. I don’t think you can grasp the gravity of that statement. It will result in a one-hour meltdown with begging about his being willing to “do ANYthing” to get his Minecraft time, but the offer to let him brush his teeth to get his time back results in him running up the stairs and playing with a Lego or his stuffed Tepig or reading whatever text-based material is within view. And the reminder that this is what he needed to do to get his Minecraft time results in “OH YEAH!”, but no movement.
You cannot wrap your head around this. I know you can’t. And it’s not just frustrating–it’s scary.
I was so thankful to see Time put out an article that (at least a tiny bit) addresses this oxymoron. Even without Asperger’s at play. In their article “How To Make Your Kids Smarter: 10 Steps Backed By Science” they note that IQ is kind of worthless without self-discipline.
“Self-discipline predicted academic performance more robustly than did IQ. Self-discipline also predicted which students would improve their grades over the course of the school year, whereas IQ did not.… Self-discipline has a bigger effect on academic performance than does intellectual talent.”
How do you teach a kid to have self-discipline? Seriously? How do you instill perseverance? We are not indulgent parents and there is a good structure to how our house operates. We’re not helicopter parents nor permissive parents. We facilitate our kids making their own choices (and having to stand by them as long as the consequence was foreseeable and not excessively/downright cruel or harmful). Some kids are just not going to get it. Especially those with impaired relational skills (and “relational” doesn’t just mean “between people” it means “connecting less concrete things”).
I’ve watched other kids with these issues in the schools and I’m not going there. People like to tell me that I don’t know that MY kid will wind up like that, but ya know what? I’m not rolling the dice either. I’m watching a rather brilliant young man who is VERY similar to BigGuy pretty much fail out of high school for the exact same problems and a mother who has given up trying to find his currency. I’m thankful to be able to see how his life is unfolding and seeing how removing the things he lives for or holding them hostage are doing absolutely nothing to move him. Just like BigGuy. I feel like I can learn from this and feel confident that this is just not going to be the route.
But I don’t know what the route is yet for my guy. And part of me is heartbroken because I often wonder if the last 4-1/2 years of moving and my less-than-engaging/encouraging/supportive behavior have squashed any potential inspiration and motivation or willingness to chase after his interests with more fervor. I can’t think about it. That’s over. We were in survival mode. It happened and I can’t change it.
I just need to get back on my horse and leave it alone. I need to focus on Girly. I need to do more with her. If he doesn’t want to work, nobody’s going to make him. Not here and not at school. That Cell Biology lab motivated him and I just cannot find a place like that for him to be full-time. I ache for that for him. Explaining to him that doing this work would get him to such a place is too far out for him to grasp.
Maybe his sister surpassing his achievements will be the motivator. Because that kid’s going to knock it out of the park.
And really, if I go back and look at MY goals for my kids, I could give a rat’s ass about any of this crap. But trying to meet his needs as he has explained them has been rough and it means doing this kind of crap. Maybe I just need to change my attitude about it. I don’t know. I’m having “a day”. And I love him so much. I just want to meet his needs. And hers.
I actually like this week as the last of my Facebook friends list sends their kids back to school. Here in the Midwest, that happened last week and the week before. But back on the East Coast, that happens this week. Above is my “back to school pics”. A friend pointed out the quintessential homeschool part: bare feet.
It’s not that I love the back to school pics. I mean, I enjoy seeing their kids and all–but I see them in pics all the time. It’s interesting to see what they’re wearing, but it’s not the “milestone picture” for me that it is for them. What I enjoy is knowing that NOW all of the “I can’t wait to ship them off” posts are close to an end. At least until winter break.
Thankfully, I have more than one friend on my Facebook list that actually mourns the back-to-school departure of their children. I love them. I love them for standing up and saying “I love my kids and I will miss them all day” against a cultural tide of parents singing about it being the most wonderful time of the year and cartoons of blissful parents literally dragging unwilling kids to school. Oh my God… WHAT have we become?
People will say “We’re only joking” but it’s not a joke. Truth lies in jest. These parents are as bored as their children. They are worn out of the daily struggles and arguments that often take place between parents and children. They are relieved to minimize those interactions. They are especially relieved to know that someone else will impart the knowledge those kids need to get those kids out of their parents houses… quickly and efficiently with at least an average level of self-supporting success.
Some people will even say “My kids are as thrilled to be away from me as I am of them–they want to go back to school!” Really? And what kind of statement is that making about your relationship with your children? Or about how they feel knowing that you’re all that happy to shoo them off? Why WOULD they want to stay with you knowing you feel that way?
Long ago and far away, I was the parent with a child that I NEEDED to go to school because truly–the idea of dealing with him all day was a prospect I just could not handle. I was in survival mode every minute that I was in his presence. I was miserable and I was struggling. I never felt like I knew how to make it right–no matter how many books or blog entries I read. This photo pretty much sums up my days with my son… and this is the lightest of it (which is why I COULD capture it on film):
BigGuy’s face: age 2-6
It was a daily exercise in knowing how badly I was failing at parenting and having that very in my face. I hated everything about life back then. I woke up with dread about what the day would bring. I worried about what might get broken, how much yelling might occur, if there might be physical interactions, if my son would tantrum for 45 minutes straight at some point, hoping that if he did–it would be in our house, how many looks I would get from people around us who would instantly judge me as a bad parent… the list goes on.
His going to preschool filled so many voids for me. I felt like sending him there might have been the only thing I was doing right for his future because they would at least be able to educate him to be a productive human being. I also felt like sending him there made me a better mother because I got a break from feeling so completely worthless that it kept me alive. During that time, I could do other things that validated my worth–even if that was just a matter of cleaning the dishes and doing some laundry. Low-hanging fruits that were signs that I was capable of doing SOMEthing right.
It didn’t change the problems. It just gave me a much-needed break from them.
We had gone through two years of intensive therapies with our son. Fourteen hours/week (we were offered 20/week and declined out of sheer exhaustion and overwhelm). Research, interventions (both therapeutic and nutritional), every moment being a “teachable moment”. It was exhausting. It was beyond most parents challenges of finding things for a kid to do because they’re bored. I was engaged with my son at almost all times for a long time… and not in a loving parent way as much as a therapist/practitioner way. He didn’t see me as a parent. He didn’t connect with people really (at that time). And we didn’t grow into a family.
I loved my son, but the situation was just a nightmare. I was doing what I could. Then it all changed.
In a nutshell, we found out that he was being mistreated/mishandled at his preschool in ways we really didn’t know about. We knew he was “having bad days” but we had no idea what the school’s definition of that was. This resulted in mutually agreeing to end a private school contract midway through the school year (for the familiar, you can see how bad it was). We sent him to a school with a different pedagogy for the second half of the year and that went better but not WELL. He was our only child at the time and I loved him so deeply.
When it came time for Kindergarten, the school situation was just NOT a good fit. You find that schools do this with kids in the spectrum: put them several levels below their academic capabilities for the sake of them gaining other “skills” like relational skills or following directions (which would be easier if they don’t ALSO have to figure out how to do what they’re being instructed to learn). It was horrible. And I felt it was a recipe for behavioral disaster beyond what we were already dealing with. Ultimately, a teacher I respected told us that we should just keep him home for his Kindergarten year.
I wanted to cry.
But I did it.
You hear over and over from homeschool parents about the profound behavior and relationship changes that come with homeschooling. It sounds too good to be true–so good that you insist (at least in your head) that they could not possibly be dealing with the issues you’re dealing with. But many of them are dealing with worse.
And you don’t have to homeschool to change this relationship. But you DO have to take an active interest in engaging with your kids. That doesn’t mean being in the same room with them. Lots of parents say that they’re “with their kids all the time”. Sorry, being in the same room as them does not equate to being ENGAGED with them. I don’t mean to say you should be their buddy. But it does mean taking an interest in them from THEIR perspective. It means setting aside your agenda for them and really HEARING them without recourse about what you’re hearing. It means spending one-on-one time with each of your kids–even if it’s just a dedicated 15 minutes each week (preferably each day) that they can bank on having with you to talk about whatever THEY want to talk about and you being actively interested in hearing them 100%. It means hearing about Minecraft and at least pretending to follow along sometimes. It means trying really hard not to say “No” unless you really have to. It means finding opportunities for them to pursue their interests (and not being angry at your wasted efforts if they don’t want to do it). It means respecting their input on what things they want to take on, and what things they feel they need to quit. It means giving them a hug when they’re crying before lacing into the reprimand. It means a lot of putting aside how we culturally handle our kids and seeing our kids and their tender hearts first. It means understanding that they generally only operate out of love or fear–and trying to get to the heart of which it is, and addressing THAT rather than how that came out/manifested.
Connecting.
It doesn’t matter how you school your kids. But your relationship with them or their behavior shouldn’t be the reason you don’t homeschool. And sending them outside of the home to school doesn’t equate to offloading the work or getting these behavior or relational issues resolved. They’re not in your face as much and it’s easy to let the goal of correction slip off your radar. But make it a goal.
Life changes when you homeschool. All of your life. It’s different from the mainstream in many ways; but in many ways that you grow to be thankful for. Especially where it concerns the bond between you and your child.
Me and my BigGuy after Girly has gone to bed. We were reading catalogs. He didn’t even care–he just wanted to be with me doing something together at a time he’s usually supposed to be in bed.
is thankfully on sale through 
Educated Adventures 