OCD

When my youngest son was in preschool, he was the boldest kid on the playground. He lost recess privileges because he wouldn’t abide by the school’s safety rules (Who says he’s not allowed to climb to the top of the jungle gym… and maybe jump off?). He happily ran to greet kids on the street he recognized from the baseball diamond or the soccer field, and he was never intimidated by the big kids on the bus. But something changed when he was in grade school.

When our kids are young, it is easy to -- even expected -- that we structure their lives from breakfast to bedtime. As they grow, however, we are meant to release the reins so our children can learn to make their own choices and live with their decisions – good and bad. But what happens when our children are on a different developmental timeline?

When my boys were younger, our local school district spent time and money on programs about bullying – cyber and IRL – and how parents could support their children who were victims of bullying. We heard from psychologists, school administrators, and other child professionals. There was much conversation about how to help our kids if they were being bullied (“Stand up for yourself!” “Just ignore it!”), but these panels and conversations did not address a possible result of bullying: trauma. And they didn’t address how bullying and other types of trauma can affect the neurodiverse population in particular.

On the heels of Valentines Day, I have been thinking about how we show our children love. Listening, I believe is the surest way to create an atmosphere where tenderness, respect and caring can thrive. To that end, I offer four lessons I have learned listening to my wonderful, noisy, neurodiverse sons.

Adaptive technology in the classroom and at home offer help in myriad situations, and contrary to some assumptions, they are not a crutch. Not only do they not get in the way of our children progressing, but they actually can also lead to success and growth where our kids would otherwise be hampered by circumstances beyond their control.

When my son was a toddler, we moved to a new community, and I joined a neighborhood playgroup. I looked forward to getting to know other parents and building friendships while my kids played with their own new friends. But while the other boys and girls were beginning to build block towers together and giggle harmoniously, my son was off to the side, totally engaged with his toy and totally unengaged by anyone else in the room. Sometimes there were tears, sometimes there were tantrums. Rarely was there easy-going play time.

To steal from (and slightly alter) the movie Good Will Hunting: “My boys are wicked smart.” Today, as young men, my boys are physicists, rocket scientists, mathematicians and so much more. And yet, they did not all graduate at the very top of their classes. Intelligence, ability and grit do not always translate to top grades in school. Dyslexia, dyscalculia, dysgraphia, and other learning disabilities can get in the way of succeeding in the classroom. The key is helping our kids recognize and appreciate their abilities while at the same time learning to tackle the obstacles that learning disabilities may put in their way.

When my boys were young, there were days so challenging, the best I could do was to simply survive until bedtime. I was rushing, managing, pushing, and pulling just to get through the day. There was no time to stop and adjust, let alone smell the roses. I was barely keeping my head above water. It’s counterintuitive, but I have come to understand that those overwhelming times are when it is most important to take the time to adjust and even smell the roses.

January 1 is the day many of us create New Year’s resolutions and prepare ourselves for growth, learning and breakthroughs. For parents of neurodiverse children, especially young adults, we may wish to encourage self-improvement.