Last week, I shared a bit at Deeper Story about just one of the many challenges of having a “different” child. I. Response to the many private conversations I’ve had since then, I’ll be using this space to address some other challenges, and some pure delights, in these goofy kids. If you have something you’d like to share, in the form of a post, please email me.
She sat in the backseat, but pressed forward to allow the driver a better opportunity to hear her. The miles disappeared while she described the properties of a recessive gene and recited verbatim dialogue from a movie.
I worried that the driver, a friend of mine, was tiring of the backseat chatter, but every time I snuck a glance at her face, she was smiling, engaged and apparently happy to chat.
Later we asked her, “What does it feel like to sit at the table and actually do the math homework?”
She, for once , was speechless. It was temporary.
Its like digging through a brick wall with a plastic spoon.
Each and every math problem was another wall. She had to restart her brain, and her process every time. No wonder she avoided it. No wonder she liked to pretend it didn’t exist.
I’ve never experienced that. Sure, there are things I don’t like to do. Laundry and dishes stand out as prime examples. But I can do it, rather easily. Math and similar projects overwhelm and paralyze some ADHD students.
She said later, “the worst thing you can say to a kid with ADHD is just try harder.” She’s already digging through mortar with paltry plastic.
Her assessment of what it felt like to do math helped me. It helped me to back off, to think creatively, and to relax my own standards of how long and how well things always need to be done.
What does your kid think ADHD feels like? How can that help us?