I'm easily shocked at times. I open the newspaper, I read articles
about child abuse, the mentally ill, the shortcomings in our education
system, and I feel things along the lines of torment and anguish. But it
doesn't stop there. It actually goes on, manifesting itself in a dozen
minor ways. Maybe in a dozen major ways, if you're one who believes in
the magnitude of advocacy, of standing up to make sure that your voice
can be heard over all the loud chatter and backtalk.
For
years, I've been investigating the atrocities that are taking place in
our schools each and every day. I've been sending letters to our
Presidents, our Senators, and our Congressman, pleading for them to be
the change they so vehemently declare they are. But words are useless.
We need Action. For what can mere words really do, when so many
mentally-challenged students are struggling to keep up in an education
system that is unapologetically incongruent to their ways of thinking
and learning?
For the past 50 years, ADHD (Attention Deficit
Hyperactivity Disorder) has been increasing among our schoolchildren. In
fact, 12 percent of today's school-aged children are affected by it,
which is up from 3-5 percent in 1998. That can only mean that we are
lacking in solutions to this problem. Or perhaps it means that we are
not taking the time to implement these solutions.
When a child
with ADHD is confined to a regular classroom, with no special guidance
or attention, it's unbelievably troubling. Not only is it difficult for
them to keep up, but the amount of mental frustration they experience is
immeasurable. So many teachers are not equipped to handle these
children. They don't understand the disorder, nor do they have the
desire to. With this lack of empathy, they cause even more destruction
in the children's lives, punishing them for falling asleep or not paying
attention, when the children have no control over these things
whatsoever.
To be punished as the result of a painful handicap is
blatantly unfair to and disconcerting for the child. So many of us
wonder why the drop-out rate is so high. We wonder why our kids are
turning to drugs. Stealing. Killing. We think, in many cases, "kids will
be kids," then we turn our backs and look the other way. We yell at
them to do better, to make us proud one of these days, to stop playing
so many video games. As if tossing out the old X-Box will focus their
attention on the classroom.
In some cases, there are children who
do lean too heavily on television and video games, pushing aside their
homework with a shrug of their shoulders. This is something that parents
have the ability to keep an eye on and control. However, students spend
the majority of their time at school, and the classroom not only has a
huge impact on their day-to-day lives, but also on the ways in which
they will eventually function as adults in the so-called "real world."
And if education cannot equip each and every one of them with something
as basic as functionality, what is school really doing for our children?
You
may wonder why this hits such a personal nerve with me. This is why: I
have been blessed with eleven beautiful grandchildren. Two of them have
been diagnosed with ADHD, two others with panic disorder and
agoraphobia. The battle that they have to endure during each day of
class breaks my heart. When they return from school, I see the relief on
their faces, the gratitude of finally coming home and ducking away from
the judgments of their teachers, and in some cases, even their fellow
students. I also see the depression in their eyes. I ask them how their
day was, and they reply that it was "okay," but I know that the matter
goes much deeper - painfully deeper - than that.
Back in 2001, one
of my grandsons suffered a mental breakdown in his middle school
classroom. I took him to see a psychiatrist at the Child Guidance
Center. We discovered that he was suffering from severe Depression and
Phobic Anxiety. He was very unhappy in his new Mainstream Literature
class and couldn't face the ongoing judgments and name-calling that his
classmates were dishing out. He would come home from school despondent,
refusing to eat. He would just crawl into bed and sleep until the next
day. He started to wear a blanket over his head, refusing to take it
off, fearful that he was ugly to everybody. (All the name-calling in
school had lead him to this conclusion.) He even started having
nightmares about being at school. And then there were the voices in his
head; voices that spoke in loud, sharp tones, criticizing him and
debilitating his sense of self. It was eating away at him. And me, as
well.
I was determined to get him the help that he needed. I
pleaded with the Individualized Education Program (I.E.P.) at school,
telling them that the Mainstream Literature class was ruining my
grandson's life. They heeded my words and removed him right away. This
actually relieved a lot of his torment, but then all the Phobic Anxiety
and Depression seeped right back into his life again, as forcefully as
it had before.
Trips to the Psychiatrist became frequent.
Resperial
and Paxil were prescribed to bring some sense of balance into my
grandson's life. He ultimately had to be pulled out of school. I
promised him that he would be home-schooled until he was successfully
treated, which I assured him would be soon.
The most disheartening
thing about this situation, aside from my grandson's mental condition,
was the obvious lack of attention shown by the teachers and I.E.P. Team.
When he transferred back to high school in California, the school was
given all the proper materials to fully prepare themselves for my
grandson's condition. I made sure to give them access to all his medical
reports, which clearly noted his learning disabilities. I even made
sure to enclose a letter from his previous teacher, who wrote of his
difficulty in regular classes and his need for special attention. All of
this obviously went "in one ear and out the other." Perhaps they didn't
even bother to look at a single piece of documentation?
I wonder,
of course, whether my grandson's condition wouldn't have worsened so
rapidly if the teachers had given him the attention that he needed.
Unfortunately, the disorders would still be there, but if they weren't
exacerbated by all the neglect, it is likely that he would've been able
to function at a higher capacity.
There are a handful of things
that can be done so that children and their parents (and don't forget
their grandparents) don't have to live with this gnawing frustration.
The most obvious one is to create special classes for students with
learning disabilities. These classes would be run by specially-trained
teachers who would give them all the care and guidance that they need.
Also, the classes would be smaller. The pace would be slower. The
punishments would be a thing of the past. Children would actually have
an opportunity to learn, and finally feel a sense of self-worth, a sense
that somebody was giving them the time that they so desperately need.
To
be sure, a huge budget is required to implement a plan of this nature.
It's no small task. So let's talk baby-steps. Let's make sure that
teachers don't receive their credentials unless they're armed with
training that prepares them to teach learning-disabled children. Every
time a student with A.D.H.D. comes into a classroom, let's see to it
that the teachers are alerted to the special situation at hand. Maybe
that way, kids like my grandson, who had a mental breakdown and was
diagnosed with schizophrenia, won't feel ashamed and angry at themselves
for not being able to learn in school.
Patience and understanding
are important factors on the road to making these children feel
centered. Teachers, principals, school boards - they all need to put one
foot forward and make the choice to care and look out for each and
every student that we entrust them with. And this does not simply apply
to children with learning disabilities.
I remember reading a news
article a while ago about a 13-year-old student, in Southern California,
who ended up collapsing and dying on campus one day. Somebody called
911, and within five minutes, the paramedics were on the scene.
Disturbingly enough, when they got there, they noticed dozens of
students and school officials, standing around, not doing a single thing
to help the girl. In fact, she was still facedown on the ground when
they found her. Nobody made an effort to turn her over and revive her.
Upon assessing the student, the two paramedics found that she had no
pulse and was not breathing.
Now, I would like to believe that the
entire student body's lack of participation in this unfortunate
circumstance had to do with the fact that they were not acquainted with
any life-saving techniques, which left them feeling unequipped to help
her. Even if this is true, though, it alarms me that not one person
stepped in to try and revive this girl, even without the proper
knowledge. Sometimes care, concern, and fortitude can take the place of
technique. Something as simple as human compassion can often yield major
results.
I recall reading about another tragedy. This one
happened back in 1999. After overexerting herself during a high school
physical education class, a 14-year-old girl died from an asthma attack.
The substitute teacher in charge denied her request for permission to
stop running, even after her breathing became labored. The girl's
friends noticed that her lips were turning purple. But the student did
as she was told, and kept on running. A little while later, during her
next class, she became so ill that she passed out, only to die after 20
minutes.
Apparently, the girl's family had provided the school
with all the pertinent medical forms, which fully explained her
breathing problems. They did everything right, yet still, their daughter
was forced to run much longer than her lungs could possibly endure.
Her
normal physical education teacher was aware of her problem and gave her
the special attention that she needed, excusing her from class whenever
she had any difficulty breathing. So why did the school not make the
substitute aware of her condition?
On top of all this, even after
the girl passed out, nobody in the classroom tried any CPR or
life-saving techniques while awaiting the paramedics. CPR is a basic
skill that our school officials should really emphasize. Shouldn't we
feel confident and secure when we send our children off to school?
Shouldn't we be allowed to go about our days, comforted by the fact that
they are in good hands?
I also have three daughters with learning
disabilities. Neglected in the classroom, they developed severe panic
disorder. One was even diagnosed with agoraphobia. As a result of this,
two of them were left unable to work or drive.
It's hard to put
your child onto that bus every morning and have to worry about the
potential negative encounters they will have to deal with throughout the
day. In the beginning, when I didn't understand their disorders as
much, I practiced politeness and passivity. I gently asked questions,
trying to encourage the teachers and my children to meet each other
halfway, not wanting to upset anybody in the process.
As I got
more involved and came to learn more about their learning disabilities, I
hit the ground running and never looked back. I attended all the school
meetings and made certain that my voice was heard, loud and clear. I
sent out letters every week, passionate letters, written to inspire
immediacy and resourcefulness. I made time for my children and my
grandchildren, always giving them the attention that they needed,
knowing how important it was for them to feel wanted and safe. If they
weren't feeling those things at school, I would see to it that they felt
them at home. My late husband and I always made sure that they had
everything they needed, and that they could express what was inside them
and not have to worry about judgment.
