Check the Pencils

If you have been following me and Clifford these past few weeks, you know that we are in "Back to School" mode. The first week seemed to have gone better than expected as Clifford got not one, but TWO, positive remarks home! Now, in the second week, we are just days away from our transfer ARD meeting and I am eager to hear how he has been settling in. I definitely have public school PTSD because all I keep thinking is that Friday I'm going to hear pages and pages of notes from observations that I didn't even know were taking place.

But I swear, I am trying to at least present as if I'm positive (even if on the inside I am struggling to emotionally keep it together). And everyday when I pick Clifford up from school, I brace myself as I try to ask him about his day. Therein lies the problem...

Asking Clifford about his day is like trying to have a 5 year old explain to you how to fix the rotating carburetor on your transmission fluid. Exactly, it just doesn't make sense. By 5 o'clock in the evening, his little brain is maxed out. No matter how I try to approach the topic, going class-by-class, or starting with the "fun parts", or asking him to tell me just ONE GOOD THING, I never hear any clear details and I'm left to process through the bits and pieces. I have no choice but to settle on the idea that "no news is good news" and if something went terribly wrong, well, I'm sure someone would have called me.

It is the most uncomfortable feeling to have. Which is why, even at 11, I am desperately desiring a daily behavior log. I want to know how he is doing, but I don't want to come off as a "helicopter" parent. I also want to give Clifford the space to grow and mature into in the young man that I have laid the foundation for becoming.

Then last night as I was going through his binder, checking his work, and going through his backpack to keep it tidy, I saw it. A clear indicator for how his days have been going right in his pencils.

Listen, now this may not be every kid, but it's definitely mines. So if you're like me, on the outside and wanting to get just a glimpse of the day, check the pencils. The pencils told the story of what my sons words could not. The story of how hard my child is trying to hold it in, keep it together. The story of how stressed my son is feeling throughout his day. The story of the dreadful masking.

In truth, when I saw the pencil, it felt as if the wind had been knocked out of me. I held it in my hand, staring at each molded ridge closely. There were some short, quick gashes and then there were some long deep indentations. I traced my hand over the grooves. Not a smooth edge in sight. There was no clear pattern. But there was one clear message:

My son spends his days at school everyday s Tr E ssEd TF Ou T !!

I am still processing through this. The idea that I am forcing this environment on my son. The idea that I honestly don't have any other choice. But it has given me perspective. Since starting school last Monday, our evenings at home have been very trying. From the extreme release of energy to his need to feel in control, by the time it's "lights out", there is absolutely nothing left in me and I crash. The only way that I have gotten through every single night is by reminding myself that he is probably so happy to get home and just be able to release everything he has been holding in for the past 9 hours.

I'll close by saying that I sent my friend a clip of a video of us attempting to do some homework on Monday. The first thing she commented on was my level of patience. I never even looked at it like that. Because in his overstimulated moments, after 9 hours of masking and holding it all in, it's not about my patience, but rather making him feel safe enough to finally just be himself again.

Maybe this year I won't get a daily behavior log. He is in middle school now and I do want him to feel a level of independence. But I will keep checking the pencils.