Wednesday, February 24, 2010
A rose by any other name...is a TRICK, I tell you!
The kids were peeking over my shoulder as I commented back to someone on my facebook page this morning. Erin noticed my name at the top had both my current name and my maiden name, which I think I am going back to (but that's a whole 'nother existential-crisis-laden post), but is currently up there just so that people who knew my by that name can find me as easily as people who know me by the name I have now. Erin took one look at the name in parentheses and exclaimed, "Mom! You're really Debbie Lensner? You TRICKED us!"
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
The little engine that...wouldn't.
I'm fed up with Chris...just plain fed up. I don't know where to draw the line between "I'm the parent and I'll make him do what he's supposed to" and "He's responsible for himself; let him suffer the consequences." I've tried various combinations of the two and nothing leaves me feeling like I'm doing anything right.
He won't do his schoolwork/homework. I mean--won't do it. Flat out just doesn't do anything. And a big part of this I think is ADD-related. Last year he did a lot better in school; this year I think his medication is not at the right dosage for him anymore and I've tried various things after various dr visits but we just aren't at the right place yet.
But part of it, too, is that he just doesn't care. He doesn't even try. With Brian...you can tell the kid tries. He may be a basket case in terms of organization but he really tries. He is incredibly dependable and responsible, actually, and though he can't seem to remember he has unfinished homework some nights until bedtime, he'll stay up until he's done, ask for help with organizing his writing, etc., and he'll DO it. He wants to do well and is trying to work within his means to do so. And so I don't care if that doesn't please his teacher, quite honestly--I can tell he's doing everything he can, and he's not even on any medication right now. But Chris...holy crap. I cleaned out his desk at his school today and got a big stack of unfinished work--probably twenty pages of cursive practice, some spelling, and some other random pages. While I was collecting the past semester's worth of written work out of his desk, his teacher came up to me and said "Chris did his social studies today!" like someone might say "Bobby memorized eighty-five digits of pi today and recited them while tap-dancing to an original music composition--on the MOON!" I told her I was glad, and yet so sorry that surprised her, and we both laughed...but seriously. Trying to get him to do ANYTHING written is like pulling teeth. Worse. And it's not like he can't do the work. He already has his May speech memorized--that is just reciting a poem, nothing written. He can do his math just fine, he just hates to write any of it down on paper. He has the vocabulary of a high schooler. He's been identified to test for admission to the GATE (gifted) program. He can easily, so easily, do his third grade classwork. He is just freaking stubborn and doesn't want to do anything involving a pencil and paper. And he can't type all his work. And even typing doesn't encourage him much.
He has a speech due Thursday and he hasn't written it. He's done nothing towards getting it done. He has to write about a hero and said he "can't think of anyone" and finally, after DAYS of me trying to help him think and get started, decided to talk about the school police officer. He has a list of maybe six words written down and says maybe he'll just add a few more words and wing it...but I know he doesn't have enough to fill two minutes of speaking time. I told him I'm not going to help him anymore since he's not doing any work on it and he'll just have to suffer the consequences. He said he understood. I told him if he keeps on not doing his work and winds up with 0s and 1s on his report card, that's like failing, and he might have to repeat 3rd grade. He looked shocked--then grinned, and said, "Well then, I'd better keep my papers!"
And this is on top of the sneakiness I've been trying to nip in the bud. I am beating my head against the wall with this kid. Whatever stage he's in, needs to friggin' END.
He won't do his schoolwork/homework. I mean--won't do it. Flat out just doesn't do anything. And a big part of this I think is ADD-related. Last year he did a lot better in school; this year I think his medication is not at the right dosage for him anymore and I've tried various things after various dr visits but we just aren't at the right place yet.
But part of it, too, is that he just doesn't care. He doesn't even try. With Brian...you can tell the kid tries. He may be a basket case in terms of organization but he really tries. He is incredibly dependable and responsible, actually, and though he can't seem to remember he has unfinished homework some nights until bedtime, he'll stay up until he's done, ask for help with organizing his writing, etc., and he'll DO it. He wants to do well and is trying to work within his means to do so. And so I don't care if that doesn't please his teacher, quite honestly--I can tell he's doing everything he can, and he's not even on any medication right now. But Chris...holy crap. I cleaned out his desk at his school today and got a big stack of unfinished work--probably twenty pages of cursive practice, some spelling, and some other random pages. While I was collecting the past semester's worth of written work out of his desk, his teacher came up to me and said "Chris did his social studies today!" like someone might say "Bobby memorized eighty-five digits of pi today and recited them while tap-dancing to an original music composition--on the MOON!" I told her I was glad, and yet so sorry that surprised her, and we both laughed...but seriously. Trying to get him to do ANYTHING written is like pulling teeth. Worse. And it's not like he can't do the work. He already has his May speech memorized--that is just reciting a poem, nothing written. He can do his math just fine, he just hates to write any of it down on paper. He has the vocabulary of a high schooler. He's been identified to test for admission to the GATE (gifted) program. He can easily, so easily, do his third grade classwork. He is just freaking stubborn and doesn't want to do anything involving a pencil and paper. And he can't type all his work. And even typing doesn't encourage him much.
He has a speech due Thursday and he hasn't written it. He's done nothing towards getting it done. He has to write about a hero and said he "can't think of anyone" and finally, after DAYS of me trying to help him think and get started, decided to talk about the school police officer. He has a list of maybe six words written down and says maybe he'll just add a few more words and wing it...but I know he doesn't have enough to fill two minutes of speaking time. I told him I'm not going to help him anymore since he's not doing any work on it and he'll just have to suffer the consequences. He said he understood. I told him if he keeps on not doing his work and winds up with 0s and 1s on his report card, that's like failing, and he might have to repeat 3rd grade. He looked shocked--then grinned, and said, "Well then, I'd better keep my papers!"
And this is on top of the sneakiness I've been trying to nip in the bud. I am beating my head against the wall with this kid. Whatever stage he's in, needs to friggin' END.
Friday, February 12, 2010
You know you have ADD when...
I found a list by this title in my latest issue of ADDitude magazine, which may or may not have arrived in this week's mail, but which I just discovered in a pile of paperwork near the computer, and now I have to write my own.
...you get so bored waiting at red lights that you will make a detour to avoid the light that winds up being longer than it would have taken to sit at the light--but that's ok, because you were driving and not sitting there.
...you are happiest behind the wheel when driving 90 miles an hour, because you can really think.
...you can focus best with music blasting at jet-airplane-level decibels, yet cannot grade papers after school because the sound of students talking to each other in the afterschool care program is too distracting.
...you find yourself pulling into the parking lot at work with no recollection of driving there, because you drove the whole way on autopilot, lost in thought.
...it doesn't matter how badly you need to use the bathroom; you still wind up procrastinating at least an hour.
...you treat your tie shoes like slip-ons, because untying them every time you take them off and retying them every time you put them on is WAY too much work.
...you drink eight cups of coffee before bed and have no trouble going to sleep.
...you watch tv while sitting at your computer with five browser tabs going, dinner on the stove, and your cell phone in hand, texting.
...you forget that you were boiling water for spaghetti until there's an inch of water left in the pan.
...you set a timer for ten minutes so that you don't forget the boiling water on the stove, and when it goes off, you jump a mile and then can't remember why on earth you set a timer.
...your clean laundry sits in a pile until it is gradually worn and put into the dirty pile, which is hopefully at least two feet away from the clean pile.
...you remember all the important phone calls you need to make, such as calling the pediatrician for a refill of your son's medication, at 10:30 pm every night--but can't ever seem to remember to call when the office is actually OPEN.
...you have piles of mail and other paperwork covering any and all flat surfaces in your house.
...you forget what you were saying in the middle of the sentence you just began.
...you don't last five minutes into a telephone conversation before spacing out, and have to cover by mumbling some appropriate-sounding "uh huh"s and "really?"s while waiting for the other person to say something that will remind you what they were talking about.
...you have no idea what it feels like to not have at least five different topics on your mind at any given time.
...you don't make it out the door without forgetting at least one essential item you'd needed that day.
...you can't remember whether you just used the shampoo or not, while showering, so you shampoo again.
...you forget what you were about to do when you enter a room, so you go back and retrace your steps, remember, go back...and have forgotten again.
...you hear every voice talking in a room at once, and catch bits and pieces of every conversation except the one you're supposed to be participating in.
...you don't bother with lesson plans for anything you're going to teach because you'll never remember them or get the materials prepared anyway--but you think up a great, hands-on, meaningful lesson that is absolutely perfect for the subject matter two minutes into teaching it.
...you go to Target to buy paper towels and come out with a shirt, paper plates, toilet cleaner, flash cards, socks, and a charcoal grill (that will subsequently sit unassembled in its box for a full year in your garage)--and no paper towels.
...you get so bored waiting at red lights that you will make a detour to avoid the light that winds up being longer than it would have taken to sit at the light--but that's ok, because you were driving and not sitting there.
...you are happiest behind the wheel when driving 90 miles an hour, because you can really think.
...you can focus best with music blasting at jet-airplane-level decibels, yet cannot grade papers after school because the sound of students talking to each other in the afterschool care program is too distracting.
...you find yourself pulling into the parking lot at work with no recollection of driving there, because you drove the whole way on autopilot, lost in thought.
...it doesn't matter how badly you need to use the bathroom; you still wind up procrastinating at least an hour.
...you treat your tie shoes like slip-ons, because untying them every time you take them off and retying them every time you put them on is WAY too much work.
...you drink eight cups of coffee before bed and have no trouble going to sleep.
...you watch tv while sitting at your computer with five browser tabs going, dinner on the stove, and your cell phone in hand, texting.
...you forget that you were boiling water for spaghetti until there's an inch of water left in the pan.
...you set a timer for ten minutes so that you don't forget the boiling water on the stove, and when it goes off, you jump a mile and then can't remember why on earth you set a timer.
...your clean laundry sits in a pile until it is gradually worn and put into the dirty pile, which is hopefully at least two feet away from the clean pile.
...you remember all the important phone calls you need to make, such as calling the pediatrician for a refill of your son's medication, at 10:30 pm every night--but can't ever seem to remember to call when the office is actually OPEN.
...you have piles of mail and other paperwork covering any and all flat surfaces in your house.
...you forget what you were saying in the middle of the sentence you just began.
...you don't last five minutes into a telephone conversation before spacing out, and have to cover by mumbling some appropriate-sounding "uh huh"s and "really?"s while waiting for the other person to say something that will remind you what they were talking about.
...you have no idea what it feels like to not have at least five different topics on your mind at any given time.
...you don't make it out the door without forgetting at least one essential item you'd needed that day.
...you can't remember whether you just used the shampoo or not, while showering, so you shampoo again.
...you forget what you were about to do when you enter a room, so you go back and retrace your steps, remember, go back...and have forgotten again.
...you hear every voice talking in a room at once, and catch bits and pieces of every conversation except the one you're supposed to be participating in.
...you don't bother with lesson plans for anything you're going to teach because you'll never remember them or get the materials prepared anyway--but you think up a great, hands-on, meaningful lesson that is absolutely perfect for the subject matter two minutes into teaching it.
...you go to Target to buy paper towels and come out with a shirt, paper plates, toilet cleaner, flash cards, socks, and a charcoal grill (that will subsequently sit unassembled in its box for a full year in your garage)--and no paper towels.
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