Getting There

Not long after the new year began, we got a note from Mrs. D that said Joe was having trouble maintaining focus, especially during large group time (also known as "carpet time" around here), and wondering if we could share what might have been observed in his pre-K days, or what we observed at home, and any strategies we had found successful in helping him manage. Well we were catching what she was throwing: Our Hero can be very in his head. For example, he sometimes wears his underwear under his swim trunks because he just forgets to take it off before putting his swim trunks on. So Julie wrote Mrs. D to say that in pre-K, his teachers chalked his absence of focus up to boredom and that perhaps, he was in fact a bit bored there over time, but that the more we observed him, the more we had come to conclude that Our Hero is just in his head a lot, and also easily overwhelmed. We shared that we tried to let him know what he needed to do, give him a lot of autonomy, and then stay out of the way, especially at chaotic junctures like leaving the house for the day and the dinner-bath-bed trifecta for two in roughly as many hours.

Fans, it was a pretty long e-mail, to which Mrs. D wrote, basically, thanks, and she'd love to talk on the phone to share some of what she was observing. Now as it turns out, she just worries her meaning won't come through in e-mails so she prefers to talk on the phone, but Fans, it was a long 12 hours or so before she said that and we were right there with her.  In the meantime, Julie--the anxious one--got anxious and had to remind herself that Joe is a kind kid, with just enough of a rebellious streak to buy chocolate milk in the school cafeteria at lunchtime (he recently gleeful let this cat out of the bag--don't you love it?), who likes to read as much as he likes to, say, sled, all of which seems to suggest that he'll be someone who will be hired later on in life to do some things for which other people will cut him a paycheck, and some other people will want to hang out with, maybe catch a movie with, have a slice, grab a beer. . .

So Julie talked with Mrs. D and recognized Our Hero in all that was reported: greets Mrs. D with a hug every morning but often without all of the items he should bring into the room each morning, often the last person to get up from the carpet after large group time and then unsure where to go next because he was thinking about who only knows what, that sort of thing. Mrs. D wanted to work on it so she could push Joe a bit more academically--like challenge him to write two sentences with the words of the week instead of one.  That all seemed reasonable.  So the plan Julie hatched with Mrs. D had two primary components: Mrs. D would give Joe a special, secret signal when he needed to re-focus his attention (she touches her nose, Fans) and she would write a brief one or two sentence report on how things had gone each day so we could talk with Joe at home.

That was the plan, and then of course, there were only, like, nine days of school in January because of the weather and every kindergartener was unfocused. It was one step forward and two steps back for a while there. It didn't take us long to decide we weren't going to talk to Joe every day about the daily report.  Instead, we visited with him about it Friday nights at the close of a week and Sunday nights at the start of another, unless he had a great day which would all ways be acknowledged on that great day.

There were some successes though and on the first day Mrs. D reported that Joe had had a good day, Julie read what Mrs. D had written aloud and then spontaneously, Julie and Joe chanted, "Yea, yea, yea! Joe had a great day!"  (It so happened that it was a day when they were home alone for a bit before Ted and Birdie were also home.)

Fans, we are so proud to report that this past Friday, we had to change the chant because "Yea, yea, yea! Joe had a great WEEK!" It doesn't rhyme, but it's got a certain ring to it, don't you think?

Recently Julie was sent an article from her Dear Friend Carrie reminding her that into every life, a little failure must fall because without it, we wouldn't get to practice resiliency. It's an obvious observation, especially when made from a comfortable remove, and especially when, as a parent, you are arguably aiming to reach the point where your child can motor through life with some purpose, confidence, and decency.  At a remove, you can easily acknowledge there is no better way to learn to drive--literally, and through life--than actually driving.

In practice, it is hard to reach that comfortable remove and let go.  Instead, it is only too easy to see the bumps in the road and the danger ahead, and to reach over and jerk the wheel, pump the break, grip the door handle, and holler directions from the passenger seat (the back seat would be too far away), or to say, "That's enough.  Get in the back.  I'll take it from here."

It can be hard, too, to maintain perspective about what is most important to you as a parent.  That's how Julie, at least, found herself in a momentarily tailspin about Joe's absence of focus halfway through kindergarten.  It was just a hop right over his big, kind, friendly heart; and a skip right over his sort of lovely lost in his thoughts ways; and a jump right over his love of books and stories to well-but-without-that -"executive-functioning"-focus-then-he's-probably-going-to-struggle-through-the-rest-of-his-formal-education-and-then-where-will-he-be?!?!

It was hard to see that check engine light for what it was and to trust that with a pit stop and maybe an oil change, Joe was going to be running just fine.

But we're on our way again, Fans!  We stashed some resiliency in the glove compartment and threw some perspective in the trunk.  We're getting there.