This boy has the most tender heart of all my children, he had the hardest time with the loss our baby. Of any of my children, he is the one who is most likely to tear up when I talk about Gideon. And to make it worse, Gideon passed away 2 days before his birthday, so he will always remember his baby brother's life as he celebrates his own. He has said to me several times that if he could have traded places with Gideon, he would have, since he had the chance to experience more life than Gideon had. He has a sensitivity to spiritual matters that my other children do not have, at least not yet. He is a deep child. He also has a learning disability.
Picture this in your mind. At Christmas time, my husband's family plays this really fun game. We call it the garbage can game, even though you do not have to use a garbage can for it. There are lots of little fun presents wrapped in layers of newspaper. ($1 items, like markers, make up, treats, books, etc that the kids can enjoy themselves or trade with each other.) There is also a lot of extra newspaper wadded and crumpled. The (clean) garbage can is filled with all the newspaper and newspaper wrapped gifts, and then the kids roll dice for turns to try to open presents from the garbage can. When someone rolls doubles, they get a turn until the next person rolls doubles. AND they have to wear big thick gloves to unwrap presents.
It is loud and fun and hectic. We have learned over the years that it takes too long for anyone preschool age or younger to get the gloves on & off and still have any semblance of hand function, so they don't usually have to wear the gloves. If your present isn't unwrapped before the next person rolls doubles, it goes back into the garbage can for the next person. It is amazing how much harder it is to unwrap presents with those gloves on, especially if they were wrapped tightly and/or with lots of tape. Learning for J is a lot like unwrapping presents with gloves on. It can be done, but it takes more work, more time, and is more frustrating than for people that don't have "gloves on" AKA a learning disability. I noticed how much more difficult it was to teach him his numbers and letters before kindergarten. My oldest knew all his letters all his numbers and was ready to read right at the start of kindergarten. Not J. He knew most of his letters and about half his numbers, and we had to WORK and fight and cry and sing and play to get those all learned. And his learning journey continues to be extra hard work as he progresses. Each new year and each teacher brings new challenges and new gifts for him to get through.
The reason for bringing this up today is that he had a particularly rough morning, struggling to see beyond the problems of the moment. He has been tested by the school system as well as by a child psychologist. The school system results point to autism. His psychologist says he has ADHD, anxiety, and a rare form of learning disability called "slow cognitive tempo". His executive functioning skills are way behind where they should be--his ability to plan and prepare, to override and tune out distractions, to problem solve are all severely impaired. And it takes him 20-30 times more repetition than many children to memorize things. And that's not an exaggerated figure.
I took a class called Human Exceptionality in spring of 2014, which introduces educators to children with special needs or children who are particularly gifted, giving an overview of many different categories of disabilities, and explaining approaches to helping children overcome some of the special needs they have. As his mother, it was probably one of the best things I have ever done. I learned so much about all children with special needs, but I also was able to talk to other people (who will be teachers) about what it was really like as a MOM of a child with special needs. My professor had taught special education for years, and had such a wonderful attitude about kids with special needs, so many suggestions and philosophies. I felt more sympathy for my son, and more understanding as I went through some of the exercises our teacher gave us. I could tell the other educators in training that for a child like him, I truly did have to review things over and over. It takes an immense amount of review and repetition to get things to stick in his brain, far more than for other children. I told them that for J, the magic learning tool was music. I cried as I explained the frustrations of working with a child who feels like they can't do what other kids can do, and how hard it is to stay encouraging and positive, and how important it is to celebrate victories. That class made his humanity more real to me, I knew he had strengths before, but I became almost fevered with the desire to help him become his best self as I gained tools and insights from that class.
I love being his mom. I love the things I am learning about learning from him. I love the lessons he has taught me about humanity, about emotions, social skills, the need to focus on the positive, the importance of finding people's strengths and playing to their strengths. I love celebrating his victories, when he has good days at school and puts in his best effort, even if its a struggle and he doesn't come away with the same knowledge as other kids. I love how much he loves to learn, and the fact that the things he is passionate about just stick the first time. (He loves to learn about animals, and can spout facts about many different animals after only reading them once.) I love to hear him laugh when he understands a joke (which often doesn't come until we explain it--making it all the more funny when he starts laughing.)
I have loved that his needs have inspired creativity in me and have brought out gifts I didn't know I had. I can now admit it: I am good at helping kids who need a memory boost. I have created little tunes and songs to help him learn how to spell words, to help him remember his numbers. For example, when he was in kindergarten, he really had a hard time recognizing his #'s between 11 and 20. I came up with these little memory devices: to recognize the number 12 (you sing 1-2-12, 1-2-12 to the tune of Jingle Bells), to help him remember 20 (sing to the tune of La Cucaracha "2, 0, 20, 2, 0, 20.")
It's not all "bunnies and roses" though. There are a million frustrating moments, and things that aren't hard for so many other children are a real struggle for him. It is hard not to compare him to others, even his own siblings, and it is difficult to encourage him not to compare himself to others, and to help him keep seeking progress when it comes with such a high effort. Some days, it seems he sees only problems and no solutions. This morning was such a morning. I just wanted to cry by the time I got him to school.
After I took him to school, I have spent hours thinking about him, about how he lives and how he sees problems readily and solutions with much difficulty, and my mind stumbled upon the memory of the "garbage can game" and drew the parallel. I thought about how horrid it would be to have to live life all the time with gloves on, blocking my ability to do things that other people seem to be able to do with ease. After living with such a challenge for many years, I'd get frustrated and see problems more readily too. I am certainly not the world's most patient person, but I'm sure trying hard to be more patient and understanding, to be positive and uplifting, to help him see the amazing person I can see in him. And I believe that God sent this child to our family to help him to become what the Lord knows he can be, and because there are things I am learning from him that are helping me to become what the Lord knows I can be. What a responsibility and privilege to be his mother.
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