"It's So Nice To See An Unmedicated Boy"
Sep. 26th, 2013 12:23 amThe park naturalist who said that was watching my older kid clamber over playground equipment in a manner that was clearly never imagined by the people who designed it. Yes, strangers can tell from a distance of forty paces that my kid is not on any medications to manage his behavior. I'm not sure whether to be chagrined--his behavior is so wild that many others parent would surely medicate it out of him, and a stranger can tell from forty paces how wild it is--or to be glad I've protected him from the drugs that make so many boys visibly-from-forty-paces glazed over.
The naturalist was part of a team from a nature center that had come to the playground to give a presentation on local wildlife. They had lots of animal skulls that kids were invited to touch and identify. My sons were literally dancing with delight at being able to pick the skulls up and turn them around in their hands.
"We give presentations to school groups all the time," said the other naturalist. "We've been doing it for years. All the boys used to be like that, and now you hardly see that kind of energy at all. I miss it."
The idea of a whole school group of thirty kids, half of whom were dancing and jumping around and not listening much to directions like Gareth was, filled me with sympathy for the teachers who had to engage in classroom management under those conditions. I know why people overmedicate boys. Believe me, I understand the temptation. If I could take a pill that would make it easier for him to listen to me and follow my directions, I'd be popping it a dozen times a day.
Gareth knapped a few more stone tools for his collection. He spotted a toad in the underbrush. On the way home, he chanted the naturalists' mnemonic: Eyes in front, likes to hunt; eyes to the side, likes to hide. At home, he built blanket-caves to hide in, like a good little terrestrial mammal. If he weren't such a skinny kid, he'd be perfectly suited to life during the last ice age. The more primitive the skill or lore I'm teaching him, the happier he is to learn it. I almost wish I didn't have to prepare him for life in our new century. Almost.
The naturalist was part of a team from a nature center that had come to the playground to give a presentation on local wildlife. They had lots of animal skulls that kids were invited to touch and identify. My sons were literally dancing with delight at being able to pick the skulls up and turn them around in their hands.
"We give presentations to school groups all the time," said the other naturalist. "We've been doing it for years. All the boys used to be like that, and now you hardly see that kind of energy at all. I miss it."
The idea of a whole school group of thirty kids, half of whom were dancing and jumping around and not listening much to directions like Gareth was, filled me with sympathy for the teachers who had to engage in classroom management under those conditions. I know why people overmedicate boys. Believe me, I understand the temptation. If I could take a pill that would make it easier for him to listen to me and follow my directions, I'd be popping it a dozen times a day.
Gareth knapped a few more stone tools for his collection. He spotted a toad in the underbrush. On the way home, he chanted the naturalists' mnemonic: Eyes in front, likes to hunt; eyes to the side, likes to hide. At home, he built blanket-caves to hide in, like a good little terrestrial mammal. If he weren't such a skinny kid, he'd be perfectly suited to life during the last ice age. The more primitive the skill or lore I'm teaching him, the happier he is to learn it. I almost wish I didn't have to prepare him for life in our new century. Almost.
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Date: 2013-09-26 05:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-09-26 07:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-09-26 03:24 pm (UTC)In the second grade, my son wanted to kill himself. A behavioral psychiatrist was called in, and all three professionals decided it was time to medicate my son, mostly for his sake. Without medication, he could not focus at all. With medication, he managed to graduate from high school.
He will always need his medication---kids don't miraculously grow out of ADHD as doctors once thought, because of the brain chemical deficiency, but some can learn to manage it. Not all, unfortunately, but some can. It's hard, tiring work---but I do know he was a happier kid while on his medication, more able to learn and focus, and easier to teach. He only had his medication on school days, and it was a short-lived dose, designed to wear off after about 8 hours. It got him through his school day, and homework after. I couldn't have gotten him through school without his meds---it just made life better for him all the way around.
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Date: 2013-09-26 03:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-09-26 11:42 pm (UTC)When taking a workshop on learning disorders and accommodating the "imparied", I strayed off the reservation and read something by an actual neurologist on ADD/ADHD and the like. He was very negative, and warned that we are becoming "overdiagnosed" and "overmedicated". The neurologist wrote that if your boy can spend fifteen minutes at one thing (even if it's just his favorite game), he's got nothing wrong with his nervous system, and you should be VERY wary of "medications". One of the most common, ritalin, is actually an amphetamine, and can cause permanent damage to the central nervous system (that's one reason why legislatures all over the world have declared amphetamines a controlled substance).
A counselor who formerly worked at my school was also very reluctant to diagnose ADD/ADHD because she knew what some of the medications can do. I'd rather see a boy do a suspension than see his brain mucked up (even if it makes him a little more docile).
The push for diagnosis of "overly" (?) active boys is not necessarily dispassionate science and concern for the best interest of the youngster in question. Pharma companies stand to make a lot of money on it among other things. School administrations, in common with administrations the world over and in all walks of life, often do what they do for the sake of ease of administration (and, in the USA, fear of lawsuit) rather than for the sake of better teaching (I'm accusing no-one you know; just reiterating a fact of life).
I'd urge parents to watch their sons, learn to say a hearty "no" (and back it up if necessary), and get lots of opinions on your sons' behaviors. Further, get involved in your sons' educations, know what's going on in school (you pay the teachers and staff through your taxes, after all), and be willing to form a few judgments of your own. Those experts, no matter how well credentialed, have never had to comfort your son after a fall, during a night of upset stomach, and watch all those formative moments such as the one described above. I'll also add that while most teachers, counselors, and administrators I've known love ALL their charges, I've run into a few, I regret to say, who are truly anti-boy. The antidote to this isn't more studies and ever-increasing layers of educational bureaucracy, but good parents.
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Date: 2013-09-27 03:03 pm (UTC)I found the child in question intervened whenever my attention was diverted to his little brother, or to tasks other than attending to himself. It's an older-sibling thing, it's not pathology.
I wonder if the Anti-Boy faction is really concerned that a child will not absorb all the knowledge required by modern life, in enough time. It's the speed-up--as if the boy were a gadget or something. Assemble all the pieces in working order by H-Hour or you will be given a bad rating.
Know also that all psychotropics act by damping down one neurological function or another: sometimes this is lifesaving, sometimes it's just overriding normal limits. I have recently seen advertised, prescription stimulant armodafinil (NuVigil), to be written for those who do shiftwork (not, narcolepts).
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Date: 2013-09-27 03:26 pm (UTC)Ancestral Knowledge http://www.ancestralknowledge.org/