Thursday 29 November 2007

Now I know my ADHD....

I may be a teacher but I hate schools as much as the next pupil - at least, ones I don't work in.

I get a letter from Leo's school. I can tell it's one I don't want to open because, unlike all their circulars advertising fetes, concerts, plays, rowing, christmas tree sales and the winner of the Mrs Joyful prize for rafia work, this one is stamped 'first class' and is thus one for me alone. I suppose they could have circulated it as a round robin to all the other parents, too, for a laugh, but it seems unlikely.

It's from the head of lower school:

"Leo has acquired 6 misconducts so far this term and whilst his present behaviour seems to be under control, perhaps as a result of drugs, I think the time has come for us now to have a meeting to discuss his psychologist's report and find a mutual plan of action for his wellbeing and progress. Please could you contact me to arrange a meeting as soon as possible."

The wording fills me with horror. Quite apart from anything else, I haven't a clue what on earth it's saying, whether they think Leo is on the upward slope to success, or the downhill rush to failure and expulsion.

A 'mutual plan' could mean anything from agreeing to keep Leo on zombie-quantities of drugs for ever to removing him from school premises forthwith, compelling me to educate him at home.

I call the head of lower school, determined to strike an attitude that is objective yet informed, concerned yet calm.

It doesn't start well.

"Are you going to ask him to leave?" I ask.

"Who is this?" says the head of lower school.

Explanations over, I ask him to clarify what's going on. He's not going to ask Leo to leave (phew). But, while his behaviour is improving, there is a problem with his homework - notably, that he's not doing it. While Beth has slogged over her homework every evening since she started at the school, Leo is free as a bird most evenings. His teachers, miraculously, fail to set homework either because they're away, in meetings or simply forget - or so Leo says. And the homework diary that should record his assignments rarely makes it home either.

But things have to change, says the school. More home involvement is needed. Weakly, I make assenting noises, knowing all the time that without somebody to cook the food, clean the house, sort out Beth and Deborah and move Leo into a sound proof environment with no distractions, decoration, pets, tv, playstation - anything, I cannot for the life of me see a way through this.

Death, ADHD, Christmas songs about elves. It's all here. Help yourself. It may be my life, but I'm quite happy to dispense bits of it to others.

5 comments:

Potty Mummy said...

OK, here's another Cotswold nugget... When I was around 10, my teacher set us a half term homework project (an essay, I think). I didn't do it. Not only that, but I concocted some elaborate lie about the family being away for half term and having had no time or opportunity. Of course, my very smart teacher saw right through me, and rang my parents to check. God, I got into SO much trouble. But I think the worst for me was that my parents AND my teacher both knew I lied - and I quite liked the teacher. For some reason that one incident made me shift direction. Don't get me wrong, I still dodged essays over the years, but outright lying was no longer an option.

So - public shaming of some kind?

I Beatrice said...

My daughter has just been through a similar painful experience with her little autistic four-year-old. "We're not sure this is working" was the way they kicked-off. And it didn't get better - it got worse in fact. It does seem as if in the end you have to go on the offensive with them. So, when she goes there again (which is today, she means to ask them "what strategies have you put in place for the education to which Johnny is entitled by law?" And: "Would it be too much to ask that you give him credit for some of the positive things he does, rather than concentrating only on the negative?"....

Be a little comforted though - to know that a child has practically to threaten violence to the head teacher before suspension can be discussed! For a 'normal' child that is - for an autistic one, the leeway seems considerably reduced!

She's in fighting mood now anyway... I'll keep you posted.

Anonymous said...

Hello OM,

I am rarely out of the headmaster's office for one or other of my children, for various offences including licking other children's earlobes, substandard colouring in, or on one memorable occasion, pooing in the schoolyard (and oh wow were we popular. i have never experienced fame/notoriety like it). The last time (mere weeks ago) it was more of an 'intervention', with serried ranks of staff and classroom assistants relating both boys' crimes. It's an event that never fails to strike terror/guilt/anger into a parent's heart I think.

Big solidarity to both of you, and any homework support you need. I volunteer for history and french. This too shall pass... He has a wonderful mum and that is the most important thing.

(ps Ah, the Mrs Joyful prize for raffia work. Wonderful Molesworth. Do you remember the illustration with the 'prizes for the children who have not won prizes?'. These are the ones we usually win in our family).

Iota said...

It's your life, and you're fantastically good at it.

I'm bristling with indignation at the school on your behalf.

I'm feeling a strong need to come round, clean your house, cook the dinner, feed the pets, chat to Beth and Deborah, sit with Leo while he does his homework, and send you off to the cinema or for a massage, or even just to Starbucks, while I'm doing it. When you get back, I'll pour you a glass of fruity full-bodied red wine, or perhaps stick a slice of lime into the top of a bottle of Mexican beer - that might make you feel a bit glamorous and exotic.

All this virtual friendship, it really does have its limitations. But I'm thinking about you, if that helps.

Omega Mum said...

Potty Mummy: I love it. A good story with a moral. These are wasted as comments. You must immediately write about them at length.

IB: Oh, poor her. It's the sick feeling that gets me, every time.

jaywalker: How lovely to hear from you. I laughed a lot reading this, particularly about the ear licking. Personally I think this is a talent that can take you a long way in life.

Iota: Thank you so much.