Sunday, July 28, 2013

Please practice (being someone you're not)

Summer school came to a close last Thursday, and with it came Gus's progress report. When it comes to my youngest, I view these assessments with a little trepidation because I know they're bound to bring me some angst.

Gus participated in the early learners class. This was his second go-around. With his mid-August birthday and his, shall we say, maturity deficit, Mark and I had been gathering information to try to determine the best course for Gus. He did early learners as a 3-year-old last summer, and we enrolled him in three-day-a-week preschool last fall, seeking structure and looking for help in deciding whether to hold Gus back a year. Ultimately, we decided to do just that.

This summer, Gus had the same teacher as last. The first day that I picked him up, his teacher told me that my guy had made such progress between this year and last. It was like night and day, she said. Hurray for preschool! I was feeling good, optimistic.

When I looked at his report card this year, Big G had definitely improved over last. His fine motor skills have come a long way. He no longer mixes up pink and purple. He's articulate, expressing needs and wants clearly, though that was never an issue.

I must say, though, I was a little crestfallen to see that Gus still received "P" marks - for "please practice" - in the areas of listening to adult instruction and attending to tasks like listening to stories. I shouldn't be surprised. These have always been a struggle for G, but I keep holding out hope that this will magically improve for him.

This is new territory for me. Ben and Paul have sailed through school with next to no behavior issues. Sure, they may need a reminder from time to time to stop chatting or get back to work, but mostly I think they're pretty easy kids to have in class. As a major rule follower myself, it's always mildly mortifying to me when Gus can't seem to follow instructions.

When I volunteered in Paul's class this past year, a couple of boys perpetually had difficulty following the rules. One, in particular, often had to take his work and sit in the hall. Paul's teacher sometimes would take away recess time, often telling the boy that she would need to write another note home to his parents, sending him into a talespin.

Watching the situation in Paul's class unfold, I couldn't help but worry: what if Gus turns out that way? Kids need consequences. I know that and don't take issue with it. Yet it pains me to imagine Gus on the receiving end of this. I'm speculating wildly here, but it's hard to resist falling into that.

Thinking about the situation, I kept coming back to the idea that this simply is how Gus was made, and I've found it really difficult to change that. I wish I knew how to please practice getting him to be a better listener, but I don't. I try to be consistent, to keep structure in his life, but beyond that, I'm at a loss. Before Gus, I didn't give much thought to kids like him. In fact, I probably was a little judgmental. Believe me, I understand now.

A couple months ago, I listened to a public radio program about kids with ADHD. Gus, as far as I know, doesn't have that condition, but as my doctor told me, there's a continuum of normal behaviors for kids. Gus undoubtedly struggles with impulse control.

Anyway, the expert on the program I heard talked about kids with ADHD as square pegs in round holes. I see Gus as that. I think the next few years will bring some difficulties for him. I've heard time and again that kindergarten and the early years of elementary school are more suited to a girl's nature, that they have an easier time handling the expectations of focusing and sitting quietly.

Observing Gus at rug time in preschool this past year, I could just see his attention begin to take a nosedive. He'd be fine at the beginning, but the longer we sat, the antsier he got. He wants, needs to be active, not sitting. But of course a lot of school requires just that.

I'm trying to prepare myself emotionally for some struggles ahead. It's hard not to take it personally, to resist being defensive of your child. With practice and consistency, I hope that the demands of school will become easier for Gus. In the long run, though, I'm confident that Gus's exuberance will serve him well, that my square peg will find his place in the world.

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