i'm becoming a hermit ... are you?

Hermit. I still remember how I learned what that word meant. I was 5 or 6 and my mother was reading the book Heidi to me. Heidi's grandfather was a "hermit," remember? My mom said a hermit was someone who lived in seclusion & never spoke to anyone. Creepy, huh?

In those days, I was the most social person I knew. I wasn't "alive" unless I was surrounded by friends. I used to lay on the kitchen floor & cry out to my mom, "I'm borrrrrrrrrred!!!" My mom would tell me to go color, or read a book. But I didn't want to. I wanted to be around people! I wanted to have a friend over. I wanted to do something BIG. I wanted P.T. Barnum to ring my doorbell, with elephants on balls and poodles on tricycles in tow. This continued, in some form or another, over the years. Whether I was in my 20s or 30s, I wanted to be where the action was: partying at a bar, shopping with friends, out at a school function, dinner with friends.

Now I am 45 and I say, "Screw the action!" I spend my days holed up in my warm house and the scary part is ... I LIKE IT! Some days, I even stay in my pajamas. Then I find myself panicking at 2:00 pm, knowing my kids will arrive home soon & my jig will be up! After all, I'm the one who yells at them to get out of the house & do something. So, surely, I can't set such a poor example. I quickly shower, make my bed & rinse the oatmeal-encrusted breakfast dishes in the sink. By the time my boys get home at 2:30, (poof!) I am magically transformed back into Donna Reed and they are none the wiser!

But I guess I am not a true "shut in," since I do converse with people on the outside: I text, I tweet, I blog, I Facebook. While, I'm guessing Heidi's grandfather didn't have internet access up there in the Swiss Alps, me thinks he & I have a lot in common. Hermits of the world ... unite!!!

stirring the special ed pot

All those labels are getting me steamed. In the world of special education, my son is a veritable bowl of alphabet soup: OCD, ADHD, TS, LD, OHI. In English, this translates to Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, Tourette Syndrome, Learning Disability and, (as if those weren’t enough,) Other Health Impairments. Over the years, we’ve had almost every letter of the alphabet flung our way. But in reality, my son is not a hot appetizer, a grouping of letters, nor even a diagnosis. He is just Sam: my beautiful, funny, affectionate, inquisitive, compassionate, chatty 13-year-old boy. He's a talented actor & singer, who can also rock out on the drums.

Now, I'm not completely knocking diagnoses. They can certainly be a starting point, and may even give us a basic "recipe" as to what makes a child tick, or in my son's case ... er ... tic. They can also be immensely helpful in terms of securing special education services from a local school district. But, just like in cooking, you can’t focus on a single ingredient. As parents and educators, we need to look beyond to the whole person. We need to understand & respect what truly motivates a child, and capitalize on his or her strengths, (versus focusing on the weaknesses.)

In this day & age, it is completely frustrating that there aren't more programs suited to a kid like mine who is "in between." He is too academically impaired for a regular class, but too high functioning socially for a special ed class. Okay, if I lived in Manhattan, I would have my pick of several great programs. But I am stuck in the suburbs with little to offer. So we have had to make do.

Sam is a "street smart" kid who finds it social torture to navigate middle school from the perspective of the special education class. Not only do kids treat him differently, but teachers can be condescending, as well. To quote Sam, "What is their problem? I'm not an idiot!" He longs for his summers at sleep away camp, where there are no labels and he is treated like everyone else.

But I am hopeful that eighth grade will bring about positive changes in his world.  For starters, he was cast as THE LEAD in the school play, Seussical. And, yes, I admit it: I am proud that a “SpEd” kid beat out 100 other middle schoolers for the plum role!!! These Long Island soccer moms need to understand that just because a child is challenged in one aspect of his life, doesn’t mean that he doesn’t excel in other areas.

Otherwise, I will continue to try -- for Sam and my other two sons -- to create building blocks of positive experiences for them … each one serving as a solid foundation for the next.  I don’t really care what letters of the alphabet these boys represent. All I know is that each one brings a flavorful ingredient to the mix. And I can't wait until the timer goes off and I get to see how awesome this recipe turns out.

glub, glub

This morning I lounged in bed, listening to sound of my boyfriend’s coffee percolator. While the rhythmic sound lulled me in and out of sleep, I wondered why he had never relented and purchased an easy-to-use single cup coffee maker like I have. He’s usually so up on technology, with the newest iPhone and latest & greatest software applications. So, really, what's with the old perc?

But, as I waited for the coffee to brew, I realized I was actually enjoying the anticipation -- the sound, the smell -- knowing that in minutes my boyfriend and I would sit down together and communally experience the same pot of coffee. He would pour two mugs and add just the right amount of my creamer, (definitely an act of love.) Then we would relax, talk and enjoy the simple intimacy a lazy Sunday morning. No single cup, on-the-run coffee for me today!

Then it also occurred to me just how many communal experiences have become so individualized. Families used to sit and watch the news together on television, and fall into easy conversation. Now each of us picks and chooses which news snippets we wish to read from the web and anonymously post comments online. 

Sharing music used to be a group activity. Friends would spend entire afternoons together, dedicated to classic rock. We’d study each album cover, decipher the art, memorize the lyrics. Heck, we'd even play the songs backwards, searching for hidden meaning. But my three teenage sons "cherry pick" their music, one tune at a time, torn away from its comrades. The other "b list" songs don't stand a chance. And, of course, they listen individually on headphones, without the "play by play" commentary from their friends. 

I used to get together with girlfriends to go shopping or play Scrabble, and sneak in a lunch. Now much of our shopping is done online, our trips to the mall infrequent. And Scrabble is played in front of the laptop, without conversation or banter. A lonely sandwich at my side. 

Yesssss, I am obviously not the first person to realize that while technology has connected us in ways we never thought possible, it has also served to isolate us. The simple, every day connections, which used to be inherent in our lives, no longer present themselves quite as organically. It is up to each of us to make them happen.

Which brings me back to that cup of joe … (yay, it’s almost ready!) I will sit down and savor my steaming, aromatic mug. But, along with my coffee, I will drink in the simple human connectivity of  sharing a slow-brewed pot of coffee. Hey, maybe my boyfriend is onto something...