Teacher Phone Call

My son is 15. Rarely, if ever, does he talk about peers, classmates or any other type of social acquaintance from school, camp, the neighborhood or anywhere except his brother.

Yesterday, I got the surprise of my life. A call from one of his teachers asking my permission to move Jackson's seat in class. Normally, he sits up front because his attention can wander - especially if the topic is a chore or something that doesn't involve computers, but this was a computer class. I had no idea what was going on, so I asked.

It turns out that my son wanted to "sit next to a friend" so he asked the teacher (nine times in 20 minutes) if his seat could be moved. I cannot explain how overjoyed, pensive, excited and skeptical I was all at the same time.
Normally, my son keeps entirely to himself. He will occasionally related stories of classroom antics to me or describe the odd behaviors of his classmates. But never has he said anything that connects the word 'friend' and himself in any way. I'm sure this is in part because he's been hurt. He has tried to be friends with others only to be ridiculed and relentlessly teased once he was in close social proximity. Kids are so mean! Because of this - he stays clear. It's a practical response.

I hope he's not being set up again, but I'm so proud of him for trying again. He's so much stronger than I ever was at that age.

I Choose 'Not Normal'

School starts tomorrow. Yay!! and Boo!!

Yay - because it means that the boys will have something to do all day that won't involve irritating one another simply because they're bored with every other activity. Boo - because we're all going to have to get used to our new schedules. We'll have three to juggle this year as opposed to two like last year.
My kids will be at different schools and I will be at a different job (with any luck - more on that later).
In any case, we're all going to have to be a little more flexible.
It's funny. Each of my sons has a very distinct approach to getting ready for school. Naturally, they are polar opposites. One feels he needs to make sure that he doesn't show up wearing anything he wore last year. That would be a sure indicator of a complete lack of progress. The other flatly refuses to make any noticeable changes to his appearance or his wardrobe for fear that his peers would have social ammunition they might hurl at him for no apparent reason. I drew the line at the 'no haircut' tactic.
It must be hard - to be different and have everyone in the school know it. Rumors spread and kids are mean. Can you imagine? I got teased relentlessly as a teenager and I wasn't clinically different. I just wore embarrassingly thick glasses that were broken (one arm missing) for years, didn't have a stitch of clothing with a worthy designer label, was too smart to be cool and too shy to be noticed by anyone and still the ridicule was relentless.
Ninth grade is hard. a new school. A much bigger school. New teachers, new culture, new expectations, new demands and the creeping idea that maybe a fresh start could create a new history. . .  one that wasn't so prominent in the eyes of the social gate keepers. For my son, the expectations are high and the demands on him will be even higher. He'll try to overcome some of his historically 'Autistic' behaviors and act 'normal'. I just hope he doesn't choose the variety of 'normal' that includes teasing anyone and everyone who's different or has a detectable weak spot. I don't think he will despite that the temptation will be huge. But I'd rather have a school full of kids who mind their own business, get to class and ask a million questions than a group like the one I believe he might be walking into tomorrow because 'normal' in High School usually means 'not very nice.'

The Bravest Coward

We made it through the trip, the flight, the train, the bus, the unknown - barely. We wouldn't have if not for the staggering and indefatigable bravery my son possesses.
Most people, when faced with situations that are uncomfortable or that cause the slightest degree of anxiety, will shy away. They might try to distract themselves or make whatever is causing them pain less noticeable. They commit to useless activity, they perform ridiculous rituals, they take drugs to calm them when they feel so out of control that they cannot trust themselves to maintain composure. Not my son.
When he's afraid, feeling unsure or in a situation that causes his anxiety to rise, he dives in further. He refuses to be occupied with anything that doesn't fully immerse him in the exact condition that is causing his unrest. He needs to know more. He tries to think his way out of his discomfort. Can you imagine having the bravery to do the same?  -Never mind the stamina that it takes to pay attention to something that you don't like for hours on end and until it's over? I cannot. I simply cannot. It's too easy to 'turn off' the conditions that I don't like. So much easier.
For a few years, I've watched him do this and wondered why he can't simply divert his attention. I have even asked him directly. He says, "I can't, Mom. I don't know why. I just can't."
Earlier this week just before boarding a flight bound for Milwaukee, my meteorologist son discovered that there was a tornado watch in the Wisconsin area. I have to admit that when I heard this news, even I was a little stricken. Other passengers in the waiting area for the same flight were likewise more than a little concerned - grown men! My much younger teenaged son doesn't handle bad weather well at home let alone asking him to endure the possibility of having to fly through it. In fact, flying is his least favorite mode of transportation with the exception of boating - which he flatly refuses to participate in. He was so nervous! And in order to deal with his anxiety, he spent the entire flight searching for information from any source possible - when necessary he consulted the same source multiple times. The fact that he'd already asked had nothing to do with the fact that he still didn't have enought information. He bothered all the flight attendants, the pilot, other passengers . . . he asked them all. "Are we okay?" "How is the weather in Milwaukee?" "Is this amount of turbulence normal?" "Have we stopped going up yet?" "Have we started the decent yet?" "How much longer is it?" He asked them all so many times  - because you can never be sure when information will change. As well, people are unreliable as providers of factual information. He's right.

What he really would have liked would to have been able to check the FAA website, the NOAA website and the airline website to coordinate his own data. But it only would have eased his anxiety marginally. He still would have had to ask - over and over. Choosing instead to wrap himself in his hair shirt of potential travel disasters that would drive most of us mad.
He was really nervous, but not once did he lose his composure. Not once did he emit the slightest simper or wail. He spoke clearly. He was quiet. He was completely rational in the face of his greatest fear. Instead of breaking down or hiding within himself, he chose to become intimate with the very out-of-his-hands condition taking place around him thinking that if he were more familiar with what was making him anxious, the less there is attributable to the unknown. The same type of situation that most rational adults choose to pretend doesn't exist when faced with the same.

We are home now. The return flight was only less anxiety provoking because there was clear weather. There was still a flight or two in front of him. But the whole experience left me wondering which of us was the braver coward. The one in denial or the one trying so hard to understand what he can never know - when will something unpredicatable happen? Because it will somewhere, at some point, to someone.
Now . . . who's the one with the emotional disability?

Travel plans

Summer is here and that means my kids want to travel. Invariably the younger wants to go on a cruise and the older stubbornly and flatly refuses. They bicker, negotiate and in the end we neither stay put or go cruising.
My oldest simply cannot handle the idea of getting on a boat. It's funny, I have pictures of him in boats when he was really little, but ever since the age of about eight - he won't go near climbing into anything that floats.
As near as I can tell, it all started one summer when the boys attended a YMCA Summer Camp. Part of the activities was canoeing. I thought it sounded great. Granted, the lake they went canoeing on was about the size of a postage stamp and all of three feet deep, but they were meant to go. Apparently one of the 'teams' of kids capsized. My youngest says it was great fun. They all got wet and muddy and simply got up and walked out of the pond. My oldest had been scarred for life (both were spectators to the event). Ever since then, he refuses to go in any boat.

Flying is little better, but he understands that it's necessary if you want to travel whereas floating isn't. This summer's flight was a two-leg trip to the East Coast. The connecting airport had 'weather' - a worst case scenario for my son.
He's a bundle of irrational nerves on a good day. A Tornado Watch just sent him beyond his emotional edge.
The second half of the trip presented it's own issues like flying in the dark. Conditions that would normally excite the average traveller just add to his anxiety level. I feel bad for him.
Flight attendants certainly don't do a lot to help ease his mind. While I'm certain that there are plenty of older passengers who have flight anxiety. It's more socially acceptable for them to take a few pills or simply get drunk. My son refuses to take medication to help him cope. Instead, he chooses to immerse himself totally in the stressful environment that surrounds him - getting to know every nook and cranny until it's familiar. He's so brave!! Most of us would beg for a distraction, try to sleep, listen to loud music, try to read - anything to take our mind off it. Not my son. He faces whatever is stressing him out full on. It makes him uncomfortable to do this, but it's his way. He has to know what he's dealing with.
If the flight attendants only knew how strong he truly was maybe they wouldn't be quite so condescending and rude when he politely asks for the fourth or twentieth time. "How much longer will we be in the air?" or  "What is our altitude?" or "Do you know where we are on the flight path?"
What's wrong with these questions? Just because the plane is full of a bunch of brain-dead, obsequious passengers - he has to become one too?

I'd take a plane load of bravery in a crisis over a bunch of ignoramuses any day!