Wednesday, March 14

Today was an unnerving, sad, shake-me-to-the-core day.  Was it a good day or a bad day?  In faith, I have to say it was a good day.

I went back to the psychologist today to get his evaluation of the various tests they administered to R to determine if he has ADD.  He tells me there isn't actually an ADD test; rather it's more about evaluating the signs and eliminating other possibilities as the root cause.

He tells us R has what's called Inattentive ADD, which some argue should be classified completely separately from the more common ADHD/ADD because some of the signs and symptoms are actually completely opposite from the ADHD variety.  Inattentive ADD, or ADD-I, is characterized by a lethargy and a day-dreaminess rather than any hyperactivity or impulse control.  In fact there are generally no behavior issues at all, and the kids look like they're completely engaged in class, when actually they are off in another world.  They also have extreme difficulty concentrating, organizing their ideas, remembering details, which makes doing their schoolwork a painful process and causes them to procrastinate.  The fact that they can look so completely engaged and there are no behavior issues means that it tends to be diagnosed much later, which is why we are only just now recognizing it when he is in 10th grade, sadly, a very important year for getting into colleges.

Kids with ADD-I also tend to suffer with anxiety related to their difficulty completing assignments and studying for tests, their poor performance, parental pressure, but they channel this anxiety inward, so no one is aware. 

So it was a hard thing to realize that T and I have spent this entire school year trying to incite some anxiety in R over his schoolwork and failing grades, when actually he's been doing a fair job of beating himself up and we didn't know.  In our minds we've been frustrated at his "laziness," not knowing he was facing something he was not going to be able to conquer on his own.

Trusting that R will never read this, I'll tell you that a part of this testing included some IQ tests.  From those we also had some troubling news.  While R is a good deal above average in his verbal skills, he is quite a bit below average in visual-spatial abilities.  Apparently it is this ability which is related to how well he will be able to do math related subjects.  So the psychologist said he'll never be an architect, an engineer, a computer guy. 

I told him R has always wanted to be an Air Force pilot.  Without the briefest hesitation the psychologist replied, "Ain't gonna happen."  I don't think he was being mean in the least; he was just being honest.  Turns out he too is weak in this area and he too wanted to be an Air Force pilot as a kid.  I think he said he actually took the test, which included lots of visual-spatial type questions.  The AF only takes the kids who score the very highest in this area, and he couldn't even get off the ground with it (pun intended).  He said, "I would've been blown out of the sky."

So R doesn't know it, but his dream will always remain only that: a dream.  My heart is broken for him.

But the good news is that armed with this knowledge and having gone through the process, we can now begin to help R succeed at what he is good at.  Eventually he will figure out on his own what he should pursue as a career, and it will be related to his real successes, because he will have real successes!

I have to say my happy moment of the day was talking to T on the phone and telling him what the psychologist said.  T has been hard on R this year, more to me than to R, but I knew he's had very little patience with R's grades, work ethic, etc., and was not inclined to buy into the whole ADD thing as an excuse.  He wasn't completely on board with even getting R tested.  He has ADD himself and he knows that he's just had to fight through it and learn some coping strategies, so he felt like R just needed to buck up and do the same thing.  For these reasons I was nervous about telling T what the psychologist told me, afraid he would react dismissively and not be willing to get R prescription help.

My happy moment was hearing T respond well, with compassion for R.  His reaction was that we definitely needed to get him some help so he can feel what it's like to be able to do his work and succeed.  Then after a while if R wants to try to learn to cope without drugs, he can do it.  But first he's got to get to a place where he can do better.  It made me very happy to have T on my side in this.