Second Grade, One-Fourth In

We've finished the first quarter of the school year, and I thought I'd post an update on second grade so far.

- G is reading short chapter books independently.  He can read a Poppleton or Henry and Mudge book in one sitting, and then successfully take an AR test on it (a short comprehension quiz, giving points that can be used for rewards).  He can read a Magic Treehouse book over several days and take an AR test on it, although his scores aren't quite as good.  Maybe he forgets details in the two or three days he reads?

- G can do most of his homework independently.  Some days he does all of it on his own!  I talk to him before he starts about what all needs to be done.  I sometimes have to prompt him to keep going or to start the next activity.  When he's done, I look over it to make sure he did it correctly, then we pack it all up together so that nothing gets left at home.  Overall, I'm pleased with the progress he's making towards independence on homework.

- We've had one referral to the office.  He was fighting with another boy on the playground; they both got written up.  Unfortunately, he gets going over the dumbest things.  The playground incident was over his place in line.  He tussled with a girl over a piece of paper in the classroom.  These situations aren't anything for him to get worked up over, but it shows that he lacks self control.

- He's learning a whole lot.  I'm thrilled to pieces with his academic progress in reading, math, and other subjects.  The two teachers he works with seem to like him and enjoy having him in class.

I think there are several reasons that things are going well this year.  First, we've laid some extensive groundwork between the medication he takes and the teachers he's worked with.  We've put a lot of energy into helping him take responsibility for learning and behavior, while keeping him safe and secure in himself.  Second, I talk to his teachers frequently.  I know what's expected and I do what I can behind the scenes to meet those expectations.  I don't want to be the helicopter or the bulldozer, but I'm checking up on things often.  Third, (but just as important as others) he has teachers that are organized and consistent, along with caring.  We've handpicked his teachers, and its part of the success.

We have some areas that need work.

- His writing is awful.  His handwriting is illegible at times, although my OT friend says he's going to be okay.  He hates writing, so he doesn't practice much, and so he doesn't get much better.  Tough cycle.

- He's got his sensory issues still.  Picking, chewing, etc.

- Behavior will always be a work-in-progress.  We medicated him three years ago because the kids around him were getting hurt.  If his behavior was appropriate, we wouldn't medicate him.  It'll just take time.

Big picture?  Things are going well.  There's room for growth, but I'm pretty pleased.

A Tale of Four Shirts

The shirts I speak of are the four that my kids ruined this week.  We can start with J, who is mimicking his big brother without even knowing it.  J put holes in the waist and wrist areas of two shirts.  He enjoys putting his fingers through the holes, so he just goes for it during listening time at school.  He got off the bus Wednesday and handed me the whole cuff of a long-sleeved t-shirt.  He'd ripped it clear off after putting some holes in the sleeve.  One of the shirts was Hubby's favorite to see the kids in, and the other was a Superman shirt with a detachable cape.  I'm letting the Superman shirt stay in rotation for now, three holes and all.  Because I'm the kind of mother that doesn't mind her kid looking like a ragamuffin.

Now, on to G.  Man, oh man.  I was in a meeting with some parents on Thursday when G's face appeared at my classroom door.  He started to open it, his teacher appeared behind him, she noticed there was a meeting, and they left.  I was a little anxious, as they haven't shown up at my door all year.  It didn't look like an emergency, and five minutes later, I hadn't been called to the clinic or office.  So I knew no one was hurt too badly.  Once the meeting ended, I found Mrs. P, his teacher.

Mrs. P explained the situation to me.  The scab picking is still an issue.  G had picked a scab on his arm and then used his shirt to blot the blood.  He blotted the blood no less than 37 times.  How do I know?  I counted the dots of blood all over his new orange Cub Scout shirt.  (Thanks to All Free and Clear detergent, it all came out!  I forgot to pretreat it.  Not surprising.)

The second shirt for G was Friday.  He chewed through the neckline of another shirt.

So one shirt went into the trash, two are just ratty but usable, and one still looks fine thanks to modern laundry science.  I have ordered chewy necklaces for the boys to use, primarily G.  I may try them with J, too.  Hopefully we can have something for hands and mouths to do that won't involve ruining more shirts.  And I'm going to keep saying yes to hand-me-downs.  Then I won't feel so bad when the shirt doesn't survive these boys for very long.

More Medicine Antics

This morning G needed to take his meds so we could peacefully complete our fall activities with as little drama as possible.  We have no applesauce, so he would have to take it with yogurt or a drink.  He wasn't thrilled, so I left the pill by his breakfast and went about my morning routine in the kitchen.

I guess he was trying to beat me at my own game.  "If I walk away, he'll have to take it without arguing, because I won't be there for him to argue with."

"If I don't take it, she won't notice, because she's not here to see."

Stalemate for ten minutes until J says, "Hugo (the cat) is eating the thing G's supposed to eat."  I'm thinking breakfast bar or peanut butter crackers.

"Well, J, go take it from him."  I see J stick his hand in Hugo's mouth and pull something yucky out.  I figure he's just saved the eat-anything cat from some human carbs.  No big deal.

One minute later, G is yelling, "I can't take it now!  I can't take it now!  The cat had it!"

Realization dawns on me.  My cat nearly ate 10 mg of Focalin XR.  I jump up to investigate and find a slimy, chewed-up capsule that fortunately has no holes in it.  I'm relieved that I won't have to take the cat to the weekend emergency vet for accidental poisoning.  Boy, that would've been a fun story, right?  I'm sure it happens all the time...

I pitched the chewed up pill and get him a new one.  This time, I stand and watch him take it, and he takes it willingly with some yogurt.  And we both felt like winners.

Liar, Liar

We are currently having an issue with G and lying.  Up until the past month or so, he was faithfully truthful.  He would flat out tell you that he hurt someone or took something or climbed somewhere he wasn't supposed to.  I've cultivated that truthfulness and always told him how proud I am of him for telling the truth.  We've talked about the consequences of lying for years, so that he would understand why I am proud that I can trust him to tell me the truth.

Not anymore.  The lies aren't over big things.  One was about who made the mess in J's room.  G said it was J, while J said it was both of them.  G went to bed early over that, with lots of crying and promises to never do it again.  We had a long discussion about the consequences for the two situations.  If he'd told me that they both made the mess, I would've had them both clean it up.  Because he lied, there was a punishment involved.

This morning, the Lego city was partially deconstructed.  G insisted that J did it.  Upon arrival at the scene, J informs me that they both did it.  G immediately apologizes for lying and begins bawling.

So he's in his room for the day and has lost screen time for two days, at least.  I'm at a loss about other consequences.  Treat him like a younger child to show that I can't trust him?  Make each punishment longer and more severe since the earlier one didn't work?  I'm open to ideas, Internet.

How do you stop the lying?

Oh boy.

This afternoon, starting at 3:40 when G came into my classroom, was awful.  G had his hands on his brother for minor annoyances.  He shrieked and wailed about doing his homework, going so far as to stomp out in the hallway and throw his pencil.  He insisted that he needed help with his homework, which involved doing a spelling activity with 14 words.  He said he'd do "creepy writing", but couldn't get past scribbling on the paper.

I wrangled the boys home, and I emphasized the need to finish the homework the whole way home.  G kept talking about needed help, but he seemed game to get it done and move on to screen time.  Then we get home.

Homework?  Nope.  He was everywhere but at the kitchen table.  Quiet?  Nope.  He kept talking about needing help, which I told him I wouldn't provide.  Calm?  Nope.  We tried getting the blankie and the Smencils.  I yelled.  I begged.  I ignored.

Finally, I said, "G, What is going ON?  Why won't you just do your homework?"

G took a deep breath and then wailed, "Because you forgot my medicine today!"

Uh oh.  I thought and thought and thought.  Then I realized he was right.  I forgot the medicine today.

I had two realizations upon realizing I had indeed forgotten to give my kid his prescription stimulant. First, it hit me that it explains why he made some funny noises when I went in to visit his classroom and why he had to move his clip down for playing with all his crayons at once instead of doing his work.

Second, it hit me that NO ONE GOT HURT.  I sent my kid to school unmedicated, and no one got hurt.  I swear- the clouds parted, a beam of light struck me, and the Hallelujah chorus was playing.

 Okay, so I made up that last part.

But it makes me feel so amazing.  He handled it.  And thank goodness for his teacher.  She must have the patience of a saint and amazing teaching skills.  Sometimes we go forever without seeing growth and maturity, and then we get a great look at how wonderful our kids really are.

Bring It On Home

I used to forget things, lose things, and be generally disorganized as a student, so I understand this aspect of ADHD.  My dad could never understand why I lost my weekly homework page, but those of us in the world with ADHD understand that one piece of paper is like the needle in the haystack.

As a teacher, I'm able to be sympathetic and helpful, never judging when my students need help writing down homework and packing up backpacks.

Now it comes full circle.  G is unsure of his homework each evening and isn't bringing home what he needs.  Boy oh boy.  At least I can sympathize.

I'm lucky.  His teachers and his classroom are right down the hall from me.  When he comes in each afternoon, we check his backpack, and I'm able to determine if we need to get more information or some materials so that homework can be done.  I'm able to just slip in to his room and grab things without much notice being taken.

I think there are some things that will help in the future.  Second graders don't have a real agenda- they simply have a homework sheet that the teacher makes up each week.  Most homework is on here, but math isn't listed since G goes to a different teacher for math.  In third grade, he'll have an agenda that will list all subjects.   Hopefully G's executive functioning will improve, and he'll be able to remember more than one thing for more than two minutes.

Until things get better, I can just keep coming along behind him and double checking, sneaking into classrooms, and asking teachers for more help and clarification.  And I'll keep sympathizing with my parents and all the other parents out there that have to deal with this frustration.

The First Week of School

I may seriously shoot myself in the foot by writing about this week in a positive light.  It has honestly been great.  G has been happy to get up most days, and once we are out the door, he's ready to be at school learning.  It may help that he has his little brother as a playmate, or just someone to torture, for the hour or so between when we arrive at school and when he can go to his class.

The teacher got a good insight as to why G is the way he is, as I forgot all G's school supplies on the first day of school.  That's right- I sent him to class without a single pencil, crayon, marker, or piece of paper.  I was able to find the necessities amongst the extras in my classroom, but it sure made it look like I don't have my $#!% together.  Maybe its better that she knows right off the bat that I'm not June Cleaver?

I can't say that G has an abundance of friends in his class, but its a mixture of kids he hasn't been with and ones that he has.  They seem like a good group.

Homework has been light, but the routine is going well.  I sit down and check his list of assignments to make sure he knows what they are and how to do them.  Then he gets them done before he plays.  He's done well, but so far the homework has been to tell your parents about a couple of things and practice writing your words of the week.  He chose spooky writing.  Its a big deal to him, this spooky writing (you make your letters shaky and spooky looking).

He likes his teacher.  "Why do you like her, G?" I asked.

In the words of an innocent seven-year-old, he responded with, "She doesn't do mean things to me."  Really?  I'm thinking.  That's all it takes for a teacher?  These kids get so mad at me when they can't have juice or the last popsicle or a bath with color tablets or a Skylander.  Teachers have it so easy.