Gifted and the internal storm

This year was supposed to be Yon's year. I was all ready for it to be a difficult year for Yon, with the move from nursery to reception, with having to learn how to read, with dealing with the systems to get the help and assistance he needs. I was ready for it all. And none of it was needed. Because in life, in the end of the day, it never the things you are ready for that hits you. And I wasn't ready to worry about Ron. It sounds flippant maybe, but the truth is he is in year four, it's his second year at this school, he is popular, a good student, he is known and he is loved. Why would I worry? I was so sure that I have nothing to worry about this year. And the realisation that I have dropped the ball hit me like a blow. Like a physical blow.
It's not that I haven't worried about Ron before, of course I have, but this last year was all about Yon, and Ron... I guess he got pushed aside a bit. I guess it's the curse of the "normal" siblings, or the older child, or the fact that there is a whole new world of worry you discover when you have a child with disability that makes everything looks small and insignificant in comparison, or the fact that he is so... Ron, but it really doesn't matter why, the truth is I got used to relying on the fact that "Ron is ok". And he was. Until he wasn't.
And when he had a hard time settling in school it hit me - he is in year four. My options are limited. My influence on the school is limited. My ability to protect him and to solve all his problems is very very limited. What can you do when your child needs your help and you aren't sure anymore that you can give it?

I am not the home-schooling type. I know not everyone thinks the same as me, and I respect it completely, but as for me, I believe children need school, they need the structure, the other adults, their friends and the ability to make mistakes without their mother looking. And to be honest, I don't think I have what it takes to be a good home-schooling-mother. And I hate arts & crafts. But it doesn't mean I don't know what problems you face when you send a child to school. The school system isn't perfect, far from it. And though I don't agree with the lady I read this week who described it as a prison, I do agree that like any system it has to be aimed at the middle, at the "normal", at the "average" child (the brackets are because of course there is no such animal, but you know what I mean). My kids, like plenty of others, do not fall under that definition. The biggest fear I have is that they will both "get lost"in the system. It is easy for a busy teacher to pay less attention to the good kids, the silent kids, I understand that, I was that child, and I'll be damned if I let my children fall between the cracks of the education system.
But then you get to year four and you realise the system is so much bigger than you, it is so much harder to change and to move and taylor to your child's needs. I see it with Yon and the SEN and disability side of the coin, and I see it with Ron and the giftedness side of the coin. It all depends on the school and even more than that, on the teacher.

I guess some of it is our fault. We have this discussion every year, should we or shouldn't we get Ron tested? Should we try our luck with Mensa or not? And we always decide not to, because we fear the pressure it will put on him. We fear his need to be better than everyone, his innate competitiveness, and to some extant we fear the label. Gifted is not an easier label to live with than any other SEN label. And Ron has never missed anything because he wasn't tested, but the other side to the decision not to test him is that every year we start off as "those parents", every year with no exception we start from scratch. It isn't any easier to convince a teacher after a teacher to give Ron what he needs than it is to convince them to give Yon what he needs.
But he is Ron, and until this year we never had a problem with it. However, when you put together a new teacher who does not like maths and football as much, his beloved teacher from last year going to Hong-Kong to teach English, his edging towards becoming a tween, and a rough year around here, what we got was a very long and hard adjustment period that included tears, screaming, throwing things, hitting a few bins, a mandatory "I hate you", and maths mistakes (you have to understand Ron doesn't make maths mistakes. As he put it - "I was born to do maths and football". Maths mistake is like a big neon sign screaming that something isn't right). It all spiralled downward very quickly.
When kids grow up you can't fix everything. We couldn't fix it all for Ron this time, and I guess from now on we will never be able to anymore. One of life's harshest lessons we have to teach our kids is that life isn't fair. You don't always get what you should or what you deserve to. And you still have to go on. One of the harshest life lessons we have to learn as parents is that sometimes it's not ours to solve. Sometimes you can talk and explain and get upset all you want, but at the end of the day - it's his to solve.

Last week we felt he is finding his way back. We talked to him, we talked to the teacher, we talked to the head-teacher, we talked and talked and worried. And I can see it so clearly now when I look in his eyes, I can see the child he was and the tween he is becoming, I can see the rough road we are heading down, and I hope I can see the adult he will become.
In the end, he had to fix it all for himself. He was the one who made sure to train hard and be the only year 4 child to get to play on the school football team (most of them are year 6. Big year 6), and though we did talk to the head-teacher about advancing his maths by taking him out of his class, he had to take the tests they put in front of him, and last week (without our knowledge) they made him do 4 maths tests. One year 4 test, and 3 year 5 maths tests. when two of them were surprise-tests. He passed all of them, and they moved him to study maths with year 5 and promised us that they will build him his own plan. All he cares about is that they will allow him to never use a number-line again.

We couldn't make the school change the winter-play to something that has more then 10 characters in it. We couldn't make them understand that you should encourage children to participate and not audition them as if it's a Broadway show. But my Ron, he never cease to amaze me. I explained it to him, and I told him that though I don't think the school decision is fair it is what it is and we have to accept and respect it. And most of all I told him I am proud of him for trying and doing his best. I also told him that he doesn't have to take the minor part he was promised (in the end he got a part with three lines. Because his parents made a fuss about it). He looked at me and said no. He will take it. And he will not stop auditioning until he got a main part.
Because he is pure determination my Ron.

Linking this post with Small Steps Amazing Achievements over at Ethan's Escapade,

                                    Motivational Monday over at Pinkoddy

                                    #PoCoLo over at Verily Victoria Vocalises 

Read more »

tiredness and inspirations

It's been a heck of a few weeks here at Orli-land. Not all of the reasons why are blogable, and not all of them are related to the fact that my parents are here (who, just because some people weren't clear about it - pre-approved the post I wrote about them. In fact, not only did they found it funny, but they informed me that I left out some of their more "colourful" behaviour. Yes, making fun of each other helps us survive the visits), and the truth is I am tired. Just tired. Sometimes it seems like there will never be an end to all the setbacks and I am tired of bashing my head against a brick wall trying to see who will break first. I am starting to feel like I am cracking. I know, I know - think positive and all that, but I think the only people who can think positive are the people who get enough sleep and chocolate, and that isn't me at the moment. Now, I know why I don't get enough sleep, but for the life of me I can't figure out why I don't get enough chocolate to be honest. Maybe because I'm afraid if I start I won't be able to stop eating it. As I am typing this I am envisioning myself eating one of those Lindt Lindor Sharing bags and not sharing. Last week Ocado sent me an email informing me that we have a one year anniversary (Ocado & I, not Hidai & I) and they are giving me a chocolate discount. How can you say no to that, right? So I bought this amazing Lindt box (yes I love Lindt. No, unfortunately they don't pay me to say that. But if any of them is reading this, I am willing to take my payment in the form of chocolate money), it was finished within 10 minutes. True, I wasn't the only one eating it, but you get my drift - chocolate. And lots of it.

Before 

After 10 minutes

I digress of course, because that is what I do - never one to follow a straight line, not even one that is inside my head.
I was talking about tiredness, because this is where I am at this moment, and most other moments if I'm honest. This morning I actually woke up even more tired than I was when I went to bed last night. It seems like the turbulence that is living inside my mind is becoming worse, or maybe it's just because I wrote the post about all my OCD tendencies and I am more aware of exactly how many I have nowadays, but life just seems too... Messy. On top of everything else, the todo list just gets longer and longer no matter how many items I cross off it, I don't even want to think what I will find when I check my laundry baskets tomorrow morning, I am behind on reading, commenting, writing, and all other blog related tasks, this is in fact the post that was supposed to be written on Tuesday for Wednesday, and before I started working on it, I found myself writing apologetic tweets, comments and mails because I missed mails, I haven't read posts, I haven't answered comments. I don't remember the last time I took a day to myself, the last time I read a book, the last time I sat down and just felt in peace.
Actually, I do know when that was, about nine years ago.

a very tired me

Nowadays I look around and all I see is things that need to be dealt with, responsibilities, and balls in the air. So many balls, and hand-eye coordination was never my strongest suit.
And it seems that the main two, also known as my kids, are threatening to be the first to fall.
Yon is sick and tired of being home. He is ready for school with a capital everything, and is super excited about wearing the uniform, going to "big school", having friends and routines, and more than anything, he doesn't want to be home alone with me anymore and is missing his Ron. I don't understand why the school has to do home-visits, and why those home-visits have to be in September and delay the start of the school year. But he starts Monday (at last), and this week we took him to see his new class so he will know the way, the playground, the toilets, etc. He almost cried when we told him it's time to go home. So most of the time these days he is cranky, hooked on electronic devices, and bored out of his mind. On top of his carrying his bed wherever he goes, he has now moved to a daily screening of The Lion King, including a daily crying session whenever Mufasa dies (please don't think I am heartless, but this is the same child who watches real animals kill each other on YouTube for fun), and a reenactment of the whole movie with his own animals.

Ron started school and had a complete and utter melt-down. It is not about the school, in the sense that there is something wrong, it is about the whole getting back to routine after a long holiday, the pre-teen existence, and the effort he puts into his school-life. Ron is one of those kids who has to be perfect at everything. I know it is trendy to say "perfectionist", everyone is these days, especially when it comes to job interviews (well, not everyone can be like me and say their worst quality is their dislike of authority figures and hearing criticism), but Ron is the real deal. Everything he does has to be perfect, he has to be perfect at all times, everything is a test and has a correct answer, and on the off chance he gives a wrong answer to anything and for any reason, he will beat himself up for hours, or days, or months. So he gives 150% of himself in school. He has to get every question right, volunteer for everything, play with everyone, etc. He HAS to be perfect.
And he is. But then he comes back home, and he can't hold it anymore. The first week of school, when they weren't really studying yet, he did all that and without having his routine to fallback on, was simply too much for him, and he spent his time at home arguing with everyone, fighting with Yon, talking back, and being generally grumpy.
So Monday I let my parents go pick him up from school, even though it is usually the only time you can get him to talk normally about what happened in school. Once we've reached the perimeters of the house he becomes this snarly tween who barks something about an iPad seconds before he closes himself in his personal-space corner under the bed (it's a bunk bed. He doesn't sit under a regular bed). And then it happened, that one tiny moment that reminds me that it is not all that bad, that I don't have to hide under my bed with my hands over my head. Ron got elected to represent his class, together with one other girl, in the school council. He got more votes than every other boy in class, with more than half the kids voting for him. He gave a speech why he should be elected, in which he said he is friendly sensible and confident, which he is. I know it might not seem like such an amazing achievement, but for him it was. He was so proud, he was very afraid they won't want him. And for me it was, because whenever something like this happens I first of all am thankful he has Hidai's popularity genes and not my unfriendly ones, and second of all think about a child who has moved 3 countries, who only got to this country last year, and who has more ambition and determination than many adults I know. I think of my little man, who goes for what he wants in life, without ever hesitating or giving up, and I am in awe of him every time. I didn't know he wanted to be on the school council before he went for it, but thinking back I really don't know why I didn't think he would want to. He didn't tell us he will try to get elected. He just went for what he wanted, and got it.
He is, every single time, my inspiration.

Read more »

Gifted. Not always a gift.

There is a kind of shame when you try to write about a gifted child. The first thing people think when they hear you talk about your child being gifted is, he is not really gifted. You are just One Of Those Parents. No one says anything of course, they all just nod their heads, look at us funny and talk to us in a certain tone of voice. Probably feeling sorry for Ron, that he has parents who are not satisfied with what God gave them. The second thing people think, usually after they talk to Ron, is, really but he looks so normal. You know, not like any of those scary weirdos you imagine when you think maths-genius. The third thing they do is stare at him. Like he suddenly grew a second head. Like they see him for the first time. Like he is some kind of freak. Not all people go through all three stages of course. Some of them never leave stage one. In these situation Ron gets pity, and we get to have the added bonus of people looking down their noses at us. I found that having a gifted child is no different than having any other Special Needs child. But even while writing this here in my tiny corner of the web I can't stop feeling like I need to erase it, like I need to justify it, like I am over-dramatising it. I know what some of you are thinking now, especially if it's the first time you are reading my blog - What do I know about Special Needs? Who gives me the right to compare the two? Every parent to a "real" Special Needs child would tread places with me in a nano-second. Rich people's problems. I am not one to justify myself usually. On the contrary, I love to leave things ambiguous, to go with the "never explain, never apologise" thing. But not here. Years of shame demand that I explain that yes, I do know, I do know disabilities, I do know everything that comes along with a Special Needs child. And still, if I am completely honest with you, we hide Ron's giftedness even more than we hide Yon's Ocular Albinism.

People might not understand Yon's condition, but at least they don't think we are imagining it. You see, we didn't have Ron tested. Ah, I can see the look you are giving the screen now, that look from stage one, the one that says it all - One Of Those Parents. Trust me we thought about it, repeatedly, mainly to have a piece of paper that we could wave at everyone we meet and say - you see? Told you so! But we didn't. In Israel, land of tests and diagnosis, he would have gotten tested at school (weather we wanted it or not) when he turned 8, and if we wanted to, we could have gotten him tested much earlier. But here it's different, it is up to us to decide if we want to. And we do. And we don't. Because when you parent a gifted child you are trying to find the same answers to the same questions as with any Special child - how do I give my child all the help he needs, and at the same time make his childhood as normal as possible? The fact that the needs are different when dealing with a gifted child does not mean that they don't exist, or are less difficult to satisfy. How much do you push? How much do you advance his learning? Is it okay for a year 3 pupil do a year 6 workbook? a year 8? How do you make sure he still likes going to school? Is the fact that he can achieve something intellectually, means he should achieve it? Which kind of pressure will an IQ test put on him? What if he discovers he is "only" top 5% and not top 2% or 1%? How do we give him everything while escaping the labels? How do we preserve a "normal" childhood for him, and still let him study the things he wants to? How do we teach him to work hard to achieve, when it all comes so easy to him? How do we teach him how work correctly, when he doesn't need those stages? How do we teach him IQ isn't everything? That it's not the most important thing?

We chose football (he chose football. We chose to make it into a life lesson), reading (as there is no such thing as too much reading) and he is now finished the first book of the Lord Of The Rings (made my geeky heart swell with pride), and the Bond 11 verbal & nonverbal booklets, because they will teach him to think in different ways than he is taught in school, and we'll get advancement and challenge but without teaching him secondary school material. It has not been easy, and today, after I thought we've made excellent progress, I heard the sentence I never thought I'd hear from him "I am not good enough". Ah, the parental guilt reared its ugly head. Those nagging questions that are there all the time started screaming at me. Did I push too much? Did I try to reach past his limit? Why do I do that? Why can't I leave him alone and let him cruise through school? It's because I secretly am One Of Those Parents. You know, the ones that stand behind their children when they are photographed to the newspapers with the headline "smarter than Einstein". I push because I want to showoff my child. And now I pushed too hard and I broke his spirit. His love of learning. He will hate me forever.
What do I do now? How do you recover from a sentence like that? How do you make someone understand that the fact that they are better than good enough doesn't mean they don't have to work hard? Should we let him quit or not?
Not. of course not. Because if we let him quit, what will we be teaching him? How will that help his self-esteem? How is it even possible that he has low self-esteem? We talked and we talked and we talked, we explained all the things we explained a thousand times before. But it's still a very fine line we walk with him, trying to teach him that while he has to try, he doesn't have to get a 100% right, and it's okay to fail, but that you should never let failure be the endnote, you never give up. Yeah, I know it's a tough lesson, full of conflicting messages and hard life choices.
Being gifted is not always a gift. I look at Ron and I see he has a very hard burden to carry, one that doesn't let him rest even for a second, one that no matter how hard we try will never let him have a normal childhood, one that defines who he is. One that he loves and hates at the same time.

Read more »