Saturday, May 14, 2011

My Five Year Old, the Monster...?

So what happens when a five year old pops his teacher in the face?  I guess it depends, huh?  Was she hurt?  No.  Did he continue to hit her?  No.  She decided that she was at her wit's end and went to the principal.  Not at her wit's end with Jack, however.  She knew what his problem was.  She had been begging the district to evaluate him, trying to get the school psychologist in whenever she could.  But no one would listen.

She thought surely if the administration knew that he had resorted to lashing out, they would do something...and they did.

My 5 year old + Politically Correct "Zero Tolerance Policy" = Suspension from School.

That's right.  I am the proud mother of a 5 year old with a mark on his "permanent record!"

I came home from work to meet with the principal.  His dad came too.  We went in her office, and there were about 6 adults around a big table talking about my son.  The principal began to talk about how there was zero tolerance and Jack would not be allowed back if this happened again.  All children were expected to behave appropriately, or else the teachers would not be able to teach...

I very politely told her that I did not want to hear anything she had to say, since she would not be able to pick my little criminal out of lineup...I don't think she had ever even met him!  I spent most of the time discussing how we could get Jack tested with the psychologist and the Vice Principal.  At some point, the Principal decided that it was time to ask Jack to come in and to explain to him what he had done and the whole "zero tolerance" bit.  I think she had seen Scared Straight too many times.

When my little man walked into the room, she began to tell him what he had done wrong and asked if he could apologize to the adults around the table...all six of us.  At this point, Jack ran into my arms and began to cry, hiding his face in my neck.  I turned to the woman and said..."This is my son.  He is 5.  He is not a Monster; he is a little boy.  He is a very gifted and brilliant little boy who will one day find the cure for cancer, or be a great Pultizer winning author.   And I'll be damned if I am going to let you turn him into an accountant because you only want to teach Stepford children."

[Many years later, after my oldest son graduated from that school, and Jack was out of district, she approached me all smiles.  I said to her, "don't worry, I don't have any more kids..." She laughed, but I am sure she was glad to be rid of me by then!]

As this was near the end of the year, not much came of this...and Jack spent the summer home with Norris.  I was afraid to put him in camp.  The next year, I found out that the sweet, pretty teacher had made sure Jack's first grade teacher was a 30 year veteran.  She wanted to give him a voice who could get him what he needed.

And she did.  His first grade teacher was a middle aged, single woman who loves Bob Dylan, and describes herself as a bit of a social misfit.  Within a week of school starting, she had called for a meeting of the special ed committee and asked for a daily aide for Jack, and to begin testing.  The state pays for the aide, so that came right away.  The rest is a saga in and of itself.  But for the better part of that fall, the school had shrinks and consultants seeing him.  He had an unnatural attachment to his mother.  He was suffering from reactive attachment disorder, (which I was told not to take personally!)

Not being a shrink, I spoke to my own shrink, who told me he did not think it was even possible to have both at the same time, as they are somewhat polar opposite diagnoses.  He also told me that my own private shrink for Jack's methods and schedule for Jack indicated to him that she was "studying" him and likely writing an article.  He said I should push for testing outside the school with a private diagnostician.  He told me my insurance would pay for it.

For six weeks, Jack's dad and I, (who by now, were divorced) took turns taking Jack to a Fifth Avenue Office where he spent two hours two days a week taking various tests.  When he was through, the doctor told us it would be about two weeks, but that she could already tell us that Jack had Aspergers, and that five years old was a bit long in the tooth to be diagnosed, so we had to push for behavioral therapy as soon as the testing documents were ready.

She also, seeing our faces, sweetly told us that in the end, it wouldn't matter that Jack had Aspergers.  "He is so handsome and charming and funny that people will always forgive him his oddities, so it will be ok.  The main thing is to get him help so that he can be in school and be learning."

We sent the tests to his district.  And waited.  Every few weeks, they would send someone to evaluate him, and by spring he was taking cognitive speech therapy and occupational therapy.  But his teacher was still frustrated.  The district did not think he needed further help because his educational performance was well above average.  The teacher, in frustration, blurted out to the administration that this was because he was a little genius, because she certainly wasn't teaching him a damn thing.  All he did was sit at a desk in the hallway and draw pictures everyday, and that was NOT an education.

God bless Mrs. Bob Dylan, because that moved the district to send in a behavioral modification specialist.  Their goal was to try to provide Jack the services he needed in the school, and she would tell them what those services were.

But it didn't work out that way...her report was even more scathing than Mrs. Dylan's tirade.  The report stated that Jack spent all of his time in the hallway with his aide, or in the office, and that it was unlikely that he had been educated at all in either Kindergarten or the first grade.  It stated that a child like Jack was badly in need of an educational setting that included behavioral modification therapies as a part of the daily curriculum, and that he was already, at nearly 6, two or three years behind in this training.  The report went on to say that Jack was a lovely boy who was well above average intelligence who simply did not know how to process the world around him:  Classic Aspergers.  It recommended that the district immediately find him a placement in such a school either in or out of the district.  It went on to say that the in district Autism program was not appropriate, as it was for other Autism spectrum behaviors and learning dysfunctions.  And Jack showed none of these.

So now, fearing that we would sue because Jack had not been educated in two years, the process actually began.  By Summer, Jack was enrolled in the SW BOCES program for kids with Aspergers and PPD NOS.  He had a hard time adjusting at first, but he came around.  The program psychologist says once he explained to Jack that no matter how bad his behavior, no matter who he hit, he would not be sent home or kicked out, so he might as well knock it off.  So Jack did.  And he began to fall in line and learn.

The teachers in the BOCES program gave us hope.  Jack's behavior improved immensely.  He stopped having meltdowns (which were really just evidence of how disoriented he was in his school environment.)  By the fourth grade, he was a completely different kid.  We considered bringing him back in district.  But the school thought it best to wait one more year.  They were very proud of how far he had come.  One of the few success stories.  This year, he was evaluated again, and his mainstream teacher was asked about him and if she had any issues or doubts about him being mainstreamed.  She laughed and said "Jack is my highest scoring student.  I love him.  He'll be fine!"

So this spring he will leave the BOCES program, which is hosted right now at the Pocatico Hills School.  I think we will all miss the beautiful campus, originally built on the Rockefeller estate for their servant's children.  It is set amongst organic farms and lovely estates.  And I know he will miss his friends and teachers.  I think they will miss him too.  He is a special kid.  If you spend any time with him at all, you won't want to know a time when you don't...

I am more nervous for the fall than Jack.  He is fine, but I am worried that he will be picked on or bullied.  (Though he is as big as me, so not likely.)  But I have to let him go, an hope that we have armed him with enough wit, humor and social tools to navigate the social world on his own.

And for this, we have to thank the pretty teacher for finding him Mrs. Bob Dylan, and Mrs. Dylan for having no fear about being Jack's advocate, and my own shrink, who finally told us how to get off the school district shrink merry-go-round and get Jack some real help.

Part 2: Cheeseburgers in Paradise

When I signed Jack up for kindergarten, I informed the school that his nursery school had indicated that he was not developing socially as they had hoped, and that he required a firm hand and an experienced, older teacher, as he was able to run circles around the younger teachers in preschool.

So the school, in its infinite wisdom, put Jack in a classroom with a 24 year old, pretty little teacher.  Smooth move...just asking for it.  And boy did he give it to them!

From the beginning, Jack was difficult.  He hid under his desk.  He ripped papers off the walls.  He flipped the lights off and on.  He was, in general, very disruptive.  He refused to listen and did not respond to discipline.  He and the Vice Principal became good friends because they spent so much time together that year.

One week his nanny Norris went on vacation and asked a very lovely woman to take care of the boys in her absence.  Jack did not react well to the Norris' absence.  His behavior at school became far more pronounced, and I was getting daily calls from the teacher and principal at my office.  (So much for that whole "trying to make a living" thing!)

One day he threw such a fit that his substitute sitter stayed at school with him, taking him out into the hallway.  She held him in her lap as he cried.  His teacher came out and knelt down to Jack's level and asked him what was wrong.  When he refused to answer, she placed her face very close to his face and looking him in the eyes and asked again.

She is the first to admit that getting into Jack's personal space was probably not the best idea she had ever had.  Later she said that she did not know what she was thinking, as he never liked to have people that near him.

So you are probably wondering what he next, huh?  Well, what is it that Ralph always said to Alice on the Honeymooners?  "One of these days, Alice, to the moon!"  Yes, he punched his very sweet and pretty teacher right in the face!