Tuesday, May 28, 2013

My Daughter and ADHD


The joy of the holiday included a visit from Baby Sis and her hubby who graced us by spending the weekend at our house.

She is my offspring with ADHD, and we often talk about how the disorder manifests differently in females than males.

For one thing, females with ADHD are more likely to experience increased psychological distress and feel a lower self-image than males with the disorder.

Baby Sis and I want to conduct studies on females with ADHD. Knowledge about how the disorder in females in limited, and we want to be among those who conduct additional studies.

Additionally, we want to write a series of short stories that show how ADHD manifests or impacts lives of girls, female teens, and women across a lifespan. Baby Sis and I collaborate to lace the lines of our stories with real-life incidents and reactions.

This morning Baby Sis said, “At this point of the story, I would have worried for hours about the people who died in a tornado. Do you remember when I told you that I do not want to die in a tornado? I told you that if I did die in a tornado, I wanted you to buy me a pink casket.  By the way you reacted, I was certain my comment annoyed you.”

Just the thought of my young child being afraid and asking for a pink casket continues to take my breath away. “I wasn’t annoyed. I was fearful. I couldn’t wrap my mind around losing you, even though several mothers lost their precious babies in last week’s tornado. It wasn’t you that bothered me.”

She said, “But you see in my young mind and with the sensitivity I have owing to my ADHD, I didn’t realize it wasn’t me. To me, everything was due to me.  I didn’t understand my insecurity or overt sensitivity, and I still am not certain that I do.”

In the past, ADHD has been considered a disorder affecting only boys and males. Young females or girls are often overlooked when it comes to a diagnosis. Often females, namely mothers, come to recognize their own ADHD symptoms as a result of having their children diagnosed with it. As the woman learns more about ADHD, she begins to see similar patterns in her own behavior.

In the story we worked on this morning, Baby Sis shared about the rejection she perceived from her Kindergarten teacher. The frustration from believing her teacher picked on her has haunted her for 25 years. She continues not to comprehend why this teacher was so harsh with her.

 One outfit you bought me had pantaloons sewn into the waist of the dress, but my teacher wouldn’t let me hang by knees from the monkey bars. She said I was showing my panties. She was always worried about my panties.”

“Yes,” I remembered, “She called me in one morning to talk about the fact you tucked your hands in your panties. She accused you of something rude.”

Baby Sis laughed, “So you had me wear shorts or jeans to school each day, and when I couldn’t play with the elastic on my panties, I got into trouble for going to the bathroom too often. I remember how bored I got. The walk across the hall to the bathroom was just enough to get the wiggles out.”

It was one of those incidents I could have lived many years more without knowing about it.

 

Tuesday, May 21, 2013

Throwing Themselves Across Their Students


Last night and throughout this morning we’ve heard stories of heroic teachers who placed their own bodies as shields across their little students when the killer tornado destroyed Moore, Oklahoma.

Who knows how many young lives were spared because of teachers’ personal sacrifice? Who knows how many of us will continually wipe away tears as we hear these stories repeated?

In my association with ADHD, I often hear the hurts and complaints parents express concerning their children with ADHD. Justifiably, several parents protest that teachers just do not understand ADHD as a disorder, or they do not attempt to accommodate or modify the learning environment for the ADHD student. However, that is not every teacher of students with ADHD, and it is not every parent.

I know many teachers who are heroes every day for students with all types of special-learning needs, including ADHD. I’ve taken part in many conversations with them throughout the past 35 years, and I know the ways in which they lay their lives on the line for their students.

Husband tells me of his own school days when ADHD might have been considered Minimal Brain Dysfunction, but his own parents didn’t know that term, and possibly his teachers didn’t either. He was merely a whinny little boy who did not live up to his apparent potential. As a teen he was the highly-intelligent emerging adult who appeared totally unmotivated and somewhat lazy.

If it hadn’t been for the teachers who laid their lives on the line for him, he wouldn’t have achieved as much as he has as an adult.

For example, he tells of Mrs. Sutley in first grade, “She treated me like my mother. She was a loving and giving adult. She liked to ask questions that helped me stop and think in ways that were very appropriate for the things we studied. I didn’t always have my attention focused on things, but she gently drew me back to my work by talking kindly and touching me on the shoulder.”

Miss Ekert in the second grade provided motivation. “Every week on Friday, Miss Ekert had a prize for students who did well in reading and spelling. She gave me a goal and reason to learn to spell and read. She was also the teacher Mother paid to drive me and my siblings to school each morning, so Mother wouldn’t have to get out that early.”

“In fifth grade I would get up during teaching time and walk around the classroom. The teacher was not hateful to me about getting back to my chair, but she let me return and get seated quietly without drawing negative attention to me. Each day, she chose two or three students to eat lunch with her around her desk. She talked with us about world events; it was like a friendship. She valued my opinion.”

Of course in high school, Sarah Harvey, junior-level English won his heart with her with her kindness and the fact he felt it easy to ask her questions. “If I didn’t get it right away, she patiently explained in two or more ways until I understood. She would stand in the front of the classroom and lecture us about English or a book, and then call on one of us to the blackboard to explain what she had said. Other students would confirm or challenge. It gave me a reason to pay attention in class.”

The stories support the many minute strategies teachers use in classrooms every day across our community schools. They lay groundwork for future ADHD adults who will recall their own school experiences with grateful memories and even hearts. I applaud teachers’ heroic efforts to understand the way students with ADHD function, and to work within their students’ strengths and areas of interest. If you know a teacher who demonstrates extra effort on the part of your student with ADHD, please take time to thank them before the end of this school year.

 

Monday, May 13, 2013

I'm Hungry


Per my usual Monday morning routine, today I woke early to post weekly grades and feedback for the college classes I teach online. I attempt to make as little noise possible so Husband can continue to sleep.

Who am I trying to kid? I really do not fear he is going to wake. As a matter of fact, I know he would sleep until nearly noon if I did not give him some incentive for waking and facing a new week.

It’s just how it is.

You might know how it feels to waken feeling empty.  Yesterday I ate very little, and this morning, my body kept saying “feed me.”  I continued to work and complete my morning goals as extensively as possible, knowing I should include Husband in breakfast plans.

Finally I went to our bedroom and said, “Get up so we can decide if I am taking you out to breakfast, or preparing breakfast here.”

I am rather certain the only words he heard were “I am taking you out to breakfast.”

He sat up without much prompting and hurriedly got dressed.

“I’m starving,” I told him.

He didn’t respond as he took his morning medications, and within minutes we were facing each other across the table at the restaurant.

We eat breakfast there so often, the waitresses know that I drink ice tea with lemon, and that he often orders it, too. It didn’t take our waitress long to place our order.

However, Husband thought it took an extremely long time for her to serve it. “I am starving and hungry,” he said with that constant flat expression in his eyes.

Where humor or other emotion once danced, these days nothing-much has taken their place.

I just looked at him. No response, no message on my face. I merely stared back at him.

“I know. It’s all about me, right?” he said.

I thought, “Had it not been for you, I would have eaten breakfast hours ago.”

Instead, I said, “I’m listening to you. I think your meal will be here shortly.”

In the meantime, we both tried not to listen to the man in the booth behind us. He talked about being cheated when he mowed lawns as a kid. He told the waitress that his sister could pay for his meal. He droned on and on about various jobs he’s held over the years, and they all seemed negative.

We discovered he was still single, and his sister and brother-in-law didn’t seem to like him much. He was not a pleasant experience.

The thought came to me, “He makes your handsome and refined Husband look pretty good, huh?”

I recalled how we spent Mother’s Day yesterday with our wonderful children. They are the children he helped me raise and the bright, witty adults who continue to bring joy and delight to my heart. They are his off-spring.

Sure, he seems rather selfish much of the time. I know that his ADHD might lead to further mental illness through depression or other break down in his brain. Yes, I will continue to provide incentives for him to awaken early enough to enjoy the day, and if means delaying when I breakfast, so he can sleep, I will likely do that, too.

In my own selfishness, I may continue to complain at times.

 

 

 

Monday, May 6, 2013

Dance Like No One is Looking


Husband picked me at work about 8 P.M. last Tuesday, and I asked if he had eaten supper.

“No, I’m kinda hungry.” He has a way of rolling his eyes toward me when he hoping for an additional offer.

“So where would you like to go? I’ll take you out since you are driving for me.”

“Let’s just go over here to Jimmie’s Diner. It’s close, and they have pancakes.”

Pancakes have always been one of his favorite staples. I know he is not feeling well or is feeling depressed when he refuses pancakes.

This night he was in a more normal mood. Besides Jimmie’s has a long standing in our personal history. It used to be called Kings-X after Jimmie King.

Kings-X holds a vital role in Wichita’s dining history.  In 1938, King, a cook for the old White Castle Hamburgers, which also started in Wichita, bought several of White Castle stores and opened one of the finest hamburger, milk shake, and breakfast traditions ever seen in the city.

Forty years ago, Husband and I went to Kings-X for many breakfast dates where he ordered the five-star special including fried apples. I know he knows his pancakes. It suffices to say pancakes and Jimmie’s means much more to him than a simple and inexpensive breakfast meal.

Jimmie’s utilizes a 50’s theme where waitresses wear pony tails, poodle skirts, and when they can find them, saddle oxfords. The restaurant follows the Kings-X tradition of being a type of neighborhood place to eat.

Best of all they play pop tunes from the 40’s and 50’s.  Diners don’t even have to get out of their cars before they hear the blast of oldie tunes and rhythms such as Purple People Eater, Only You, and The Stroll to name only the first three that come to my mind.

This night, Husband’s eyes lit up as we pulled into the parking lane. He didn’t even wait to get out of the car before shaking his head and gyrating his shoulders. His blood was starting to pump, and I think he was tapping the pavement as soon as his toes touched it.

“Is it speaking to you?” I laughed.

He didn’t even respond. As I rounded the front of the car he was already striding into the building with his head slightly down and his feet crossing over each other in a Stroll. He moved his shoulders, arms, and hips in fluid motion in time with his feet.

He never minds that the entire world may be watching because he dances as if he is alone in the universe.

That’s the man I know,” I encouraged as he smiled and winked. I’ve seen him dance in public many times, and even have pushed away when he grabbed me to dance with him in the aisle of a grocery or drugstore.

Happy moments like this don’t often crop up these days, but for a few minutes he reverted back to the young man I married, full of humor and ready to clown around.

Depression doesn’t often let him be that jovial person, but I consider it a blessing that for a short time that evening, he danced, enjoyed his pancakes, and remembered other instances of what went before. He was dancing as if no one was looking.