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This website is an informal communication forum for staff members of the University of Oregon Library Staff Association. Contents and opinions expressed herein or on linked personal or external pages are those of individual authors and do not represent official statements, policies, or positions of the Library, the University of Oregon, Oregon University System, or State of Oregon.

There aren't all that many parenting moments that feel worse than the ones where you get the tug at your gut that says you have failed your child. I'm not talking about when you forgot to get milk and now you can't have macaroni and cheese for dinner, although from the child's point of view, that may be a colossal failure on your part. I'm talking about when something has been going on for years and is really a problem, and somehow you never saw it.

My older son, age 8, third grade, has recently been diagnosed ADHD. Very ADHD, inattentive type. On the standard test, on which the average score is 100 and bright kids (of which he is documentedly one) often score rather higher than that, he scored a 36 for attention. In further testing, the psychologist discovered that his organizational and planning skills are abysmal, that his ability to follow oral directions is very poor, and that his attention wanders when just about any possible distraction comes into play.

All by itself, this isn't horrifying news. We are first trying some non-medicinal approaches to help him, and know that there are also drug choices if we choose to go there, although we, personally, see that as a last choice and one we hope to avoid (note: this is a highly individual decision and one I would not criticize anyone else for managing differently. I am aware that there is a lot of press about the different drugs for ADD, a lot of criticism out there, and a lot of skepticism from a lot of directions. I know some people believe Ritalin (or Adderol, or Dexedrine…) is a catch-all and we collectively are drugging our children into submission, and other people believe Ritalin literally saved their child's life. None of this is my point today). Anyway, there are strategies we can employ to help him learn to pay better attention, and the good news is that because he is a pretty bright kid, he not only isn't behind in school, but instead tests well above grade level. This doesn't mean nothing needs to be done, but it does mean we have some wiggle room because if it takes a while to deal with this well, he still will not have to catch up. And, this is not life-threatening. My nephew was recently diagnosed with a much scarier condition which could be, so in the grand scheme of things, this is minor, and I feel like a heel even complaining it about it to my family.

What is gut-tugging about this whole thing is this: how did I not know this? He has been struggling with impulsivity and following directions at school for better (well, OK, worse) than two years. He has had three of his last five teachers (this is complicated, but in three years, he's had five teachers) sending him to the office, or home, sometimes as often as daily, and frequently as often as weekly. I got calls from the school so often that one day they called to say my child had been injured on the playground and my primary feeling was relief, which seems all wrong, but when I heard them identify themselves as from the school I just so expected to hear he was being sent home again, that when it wasn't that, I just couldn't be too upset about it.

Anyway, how did I not know? I've always known I had a child who was better with written directions than oral (his decision to learn to read when he was four was a big relief; till then I had to draw picture-instructions for things, which would be fine if I could draw worth a darn). I've always known he was squirmy, and that he get sidetracked without persistent reminders to stay on task. I've always known that he prefers, or maybe needs, an agenda and advance warning about things, and that when the plan changes unexpectedly, it often doesn't go all that well. But, the thing was, he has always been ahead of the game at school, has always essentially learned pretty well, and is, in a crisis, very responsible--some of you may know the story of his unscheduled trip to the Knight Library in February: he was to take the bus to campus and call me from the bookstore, but he had phone trouble and knew he didn't know how to get to the Science Library from the bookstore, but he did know how to get to Knight and that they surely would know where the Science Library was, so he went there, asked for a map, and made his way just fine. Now how can a kid with no planning or organizational skills, and who is after all just eight, not panic and handle that without breaking a sweat? I know now that the fact that it was, to him, a crisis, gave him the wherewithal to focus and cope out of necessity, but most of the time, fortunately or unfortunately depending on what the goal is, there is no crisis in his day. But I didn't know this then, and this was so typical of his ability to handle himself when there is any sort of problem, that I had no inkling of the nature of the actual problem. And so, he has suffered through 2½ years of being a troublemaker at school, of being sent home, of developing up close and personal relationships with the principals, of missing recesses, of not getting to play with friends because we'd restricted him for getting in trouble at school, of, in short, developing a reputation, the kind you don't want, all because he actually can't pay attention without extreme circumstances. Can't, not won't.

And that's why I feel like I've failed. Rationally, I know that I did not know better and not because I wasn't trying--I read about discipline and behavior modification and I met with the school a whole big bunch of times--and I know that all I can do from here is go from here. But, the thing is, I also know that I fall on the fairly relaxed end of the parenting spectrum. When my kids fall down, I ask if they're bleeding, but don't probably go pick them up unless they are. I've encouraged the independence to make their own lunch if they're hungry and to make their own decisions about what they like to read and so forth, and I've trusted them to tell me if they need my help. I still think this is the right way, for me, to be a mom, but this whole situation has made me wonder: what if I'm just all wrong? Could I have done something to cut off this reputation thing before it got out of control? Should I have noticed something I didn't? Should I have been paying better attention?

Well, so we go one from here. One amusing aspect of all this was what happened when I went back to meet with school personnel (for the 35th or so time). It is both amazing and disheartening what a difference a label makes. I have been told for 2½ years that my child needs to decide to behave. I did not even bring any documentation of his diagnosis, I just told them, and suddenly we are inundated with accomodations. Can't hack the crowded, unstructured lunch room? Let's see how he likes being the cook's helper (which he loves). Can't deal with the all-rowdy, all-oral PE environment? Maybe he could take PE with younger kids and act as a teacher's helper (loves this idea too). Needs written agendas? We can probably do that. What was amazing was how many suggestions were generated in 45 minutes. What was disheartening was that I had asked for each of these things to happen before--turns out I knew my kid and what would work, just fine. What I didn't know was the correct label to apply.

The other amusing thing is what to do about written agendas and instructions at home. We now have posted instructions for daily tasks all over out house. For instance: how to take a shower: close the shower curtain; use soap to wash your entire body including (list); use a quarter-size amount of shampoo to wash your hair, scrubbing with your fingers on the top, back, sides, and front or your hair; rinse all soap and shampoo from you including (list); turn off the water; Dry all over including (list); put on clothing or pajamas; hang up the towel so it hangs smoothly; remove the clothes you were wearing before from the bathroom... The idea is to train him to remember first to check the instructions for the task, and then to train him not to need the instructions any more. It does get a few funny looks from first-time visitors, though, that there are instructions for how to shower, how to go outside (close the solid door and the screen door until they latch...), how to do homework (which starts with "read the instructions"). This is working pretty well, though; at least instead of getting into a ruckus over whether he did or did not do a good job, we can simply look at the instructions and see whether each step happened, and there is no way he can reasonably assert that he didn't know that hanging up the towel was part of the job.

I said a few months ago, in regard to the impossible question, how frustrating it is that the owner's manual of children expires after a year. Still applies. You learn something new every day.

--Lara N.

The Spring Social has Sprung!

Diversity Doings

Rose Thomas has been appointed Chair of the Library Diversity Committee. She was a member of the original Library Diversity Task Force, which was established almost five years ago, and has been a very supportive and active member since then. The members are pleased to have such an experienced person guiding the LDC!

FROM THE FACT FILE: ANNOUNCING THE WINNER

Master Gardener

(Readers may review the poetic lines in the May Fact File.)

The answers:

1. poppies (Burns)
2. violet (Wordsworth)
3. marigolds (Keats)
4. lilacs (Whitman)
5. daisies (Wilde)
6. rose (Shakespeare)
7. daffodils (Wordsworth)
8. carnations (W. Stevens)
9. lilies (E. B. Browning)

Watch the July issue of the LSA Newsletter for another contest From the Fact File.

Been to an interesting conference? Send us a brief report for publication in the next newsletter. Thanks!

Kudos!

Congratulations to Sara Brownmiller, new Head of Library Systems.

Welcome New Staff!

Hilary Hart started May 22 in the Catalog Department.

Check out this month's review: Shrek, reviewed by Lara Nesselroad

Staff profiles:

Betsy Kelly, Systems
Neil Wilson, Access Services