What do you see?

Through the eyes of THAT child

I am a five year old rambunctious boy. I am wide eyed and cute as can be. I love when my teacher reads us a book. I crawl right out of my spot and sit on my knees in front so noone else can see behind me. She hides the pictures as she reads and turns the pages -I have to know, I have to see- so I reach up and grab the book down. As we transition to the next activity I have to be first. I have to be first in line, first to get my belongings, first to ANYTHING. I am small but mighty, I am quiet but loud, I am excited but angry.

My teacher says my name a thousand times. She knows I can do better. We talk after each activity about my behavior. She checks in with me and asks “Did you have a controlled body and voice? Did you follow the directions? Were you kind?” Majority of the time I can answer these questions honestly. I know I didn’t have a controlled body but when she reminded me I changed that a little. I know someone took the crayon from the box I was using and I got mad so I called them a mean name, but then I changed. I wanted to follow directions but somehow the words got jumbled in my brain. I look at my teacher with bright eyes trying to convince her that I am trying. Sometimes she understands and other times she doesn’t see it my way. She has patience.

I am five, I like to be active, I like to play, I like to read but I can’t sustain five minutes of reading. As the year progresses things seem to be worse before they getting better. I met with the principal several times for throwing things across the classroom because I was mad or frustrated. I hid under tables because I didn’t understand something and I also didn’t want help. We met with my mom and dad to discuss my behavior. My principal told my parents that this behavior will only continue if they don’t help me understand why I am acting like this. My teacher suggested I play an organized sport outside of school, to gain friendships, deal with loss, and expend energy appropriately. I joined baseball this Spring. She was right, I could run, meet friends, and I wasn’t all that good but I could be with some help. My teacher may have had her hands full with me and didn’t know what to do when I would scream randomly in the middle of a task but she cared. She gave me space to move around on the carpet when we were reading, she gave me computer time if I recieved all 2's during an activity, and she knew when to give me space when I was mad. She was consistent.

It was tough, I didn’t like it. She understood me and did what she could to help me. I may not realize it now or ever but she was there and gave me attention when I needed it and did not feed into my negative attention seeking behaviors.