Lucky Girl

Alice and I have some amazing conversations.

A: I have a mama and a dada and a Sadie (our dog)...

E: Yes, you do!

A: And I have a big, warm house and nice clothes and lots of food. I'm a very lucky little girl.

E: Yes, you are. I'm glad you know that.

A: Because it's important to be mindful and grateful for what we have.

E: That's right.

E: If you could change one thing about your life, what would it be?

A: Gosh, Mama, I can't think of anything.

E: That's interesting. When I was your age I could have given you a list!

A: The kids at school. I wish they were different.

E: How would you change them, if you could?

A: I just wish...If everyone in my class could come to school excited to learn, I think my life would be a lot better.

Crossposts: https://lillibet.livejournal.com/729353.html

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

kelkyag

From:

gingicat

She is in fact amazing.

My boychik is not excited to learn because his teachers and therapists have never figured out his learning style and have decided that he is just not interested enough for them to bother. I really hope they cover all of the out of district placement.

From:

daily_alice

I hope so, too!

We do spend a fair amount of time talking about the different challenges that some of the other students face that make school a different experience for them.

One of the things I find interesting is that the priorities of privacy and not pathologizing their behavior means that Alice doesn't have any labels for talking about the other kids who are clearly (to me) dealing with stuff like ADHD, autism, and emotional and sensory processing syndromes. She tends to just think they're being jerks. It's left to me to suggest that there is much basis for patience and compassion without, again, labelling these kids in any way. And perhaps that's just as well--everyone deserves those and the priorities that silence is serving are important and the neurodiversity of her school is one of the things that attracted me to it. But it puts us all in a weird relationship to each other.

From:

gingicat

That's not a favor to her nor to her disabled classmates. Here are some useful takes on it:
https://themighty.com/search/?search=talking%20about%20disability

This study shows that Alice is hardly alone in her reactions:
https://intersectionalneurodiversity.wordpress.com/2017/11/19/new-research-suggests-social-issues-are-down-to-neurotypicals-more-than-autistics/amp/

From:

lillibet

Interesting reading, thanks. It's hard when I hear stories like "Our team lost the relay race because so-and-so thought it would be funny to sit down in the middle of his turn and take off his shoes," and I don't know what made that kid suddenly need to do that, but I'm pretty sure it wasn't a joke.

As I said, one of the reasons I like Alice's school is that she does get a lot of diversity--that's increasing as more kids from the various programs are mainstreamed into her classes. She really enjoyed a recent conversation about bullying that included a kid from the SEEK program talking about being made fun of for his ADHD--she still fumbles that acronym, so it's clear that it's new to her. She's also pretty excited that a kid is joining their grade with similar medical issues to a girl in one of the books they've read together. It is my hope that familiarity will help her to develop more understand and comfort with people who are different from herself.

From:

minkrose

My parents both work in medical-adjacent fields -- my mom works with disabled preschoolers as an occupational therapist, and my dad does research on degenerative brain diseases that are genetically passed (like Huntington's) and has a doctorate in psychology.

The thing is, Alice will eventually hear the clinical terms in the world, regardless of whether you use them, and personally, having the context to humanize folks who are living with those diagnoses actually helped my compassion a lot. I vividly recall when my college Intro to Psychology professor confessed he had schizophrenia. "Wow!!" I thought "that's amazing! He's such a well-known teacher, and I've never heard anyone mention this. I've never had a one-on-one conversation with him, but now I want to seek him out and learn about how he manages his mental health while doing this job." I felt closer & more connected with him, even though it was a class of over one hundred students, and I'd only ever interacted with my TA.

Then he said: "See, most of you recoiled when I said that -- I don't have schizophrenia, but some of your patients will, and you'll have to learn how to NOT have that reaction to them." I was horrified. And that was the last psych course I ever took, even though I'd had a years-long interest in being theraputic support for my friends, many of whom had encouraged me to pursue a career in it. That one experience made me feel I couldn't get the training I wanted -- one that showed that therapists are just as likely to have conditions that need support as their patients (if nothing else, secondary trauma is a thing!) and the professor didn't delve into that at allllllllll.

I'm not sure that example quite makes my point, but I suppose what I'm trying to say is that making the concept that many folks have things going on with them that we have a solid understanding for (like ADHD) can humanize those conditions. I think the reason that professor expected students to be repulsed by his "confession" was because we, as a society, disparage folks with mental health issues, and folks with schizophrenia are ESPECIALLY stigmatized. Appropriate awareness of those conditions can definitely reduce the stigma.

On the other hand, the concept of "armchair diagnosis" or the assumption that anyone can appropriately diagnose any other human regardless of how well they know that person (like our alleged president) is actually extremely harmful, and undermines respect for mental health. On a third hand, my mom actually *was* trained to diagnose children with, say, autism or ADHD.... and so when my parents guessed at my classmates' diagnoses, it wasn't entirely bullshit. And I definitely had moments at school where I could tell they were struggling, and it was clear to me *why* they were struggling, and that helped me be more patient in the moment. I suppose I should add that I went to a private middle school & high school, which were specifically for kids with learning disability or mental health difficulties, so I often knew my classmates official diagnoses (bipolar, dyslexia, all kinds of things), so often my conversations with my family about my classmates were based in a reasonable diagnosis.

I appreciate you posting about this, because I hadn't thought it through as an adult/someday parent, and I definitely want to give this more thought.

From:

lillibet

Yeah, I never thought about it before it became part of Alice's daily "how was school" conversation. She's got kids who cannot sit still and kids who cry over everything and kids who "think it's funny" to get up and dance in the middle of class, or (as above) sit down in the middle of gym class to take off their shoes. It's hard for her to understand what's going on without language to process it. We've talked about some of the things that her classmates might be experiencing, so I am using some of the words, but I don't know a lot myself and I absolutely want to avoid guessing at someone's diagnosis from nothing more than her reports.

Interestingly, there's a girl joining their grade who is unable to speak or move and the teachers apparently prepared the kids by reading a book in which the main character has a similar illness. In that case, Alice seems mostly proud that this girl is coming to the area specifically for the better medical care she can get here, and she's wondering how she might demonstrate friendliness toward the new girl.