God and the GameBoy

There’s a Q&A in the Etiquette Corner of the November issue of Child magazine that’s prompted me to write a letter to the editor. It will be a few months before I know if they decide to publish it, so I thought I’d share it here.

First, the question and the advice offered from Miss Manners:

Dear Miss Manners,

At Sunday services, a boy in the next pew played with his handheld video game system (fortunately with the sound off) throughout the liturgy. When the congregation stood during particularly sacred portions of the ceremony, the boy stood playing his video games. Our church uses volunteer ushers whose role it is to maintain decorum, and while the nearest usher glared at the mother, she seemed oblivious. Is there something I might have done or said?

Gentle Reader,

It is no fun to discipline children, and you now have two layers of authority – the parents and the ushers – shirking their jobs. Distracting children by giving them toys and snacks only teaches them that church is just another playroom.

That does not mean that you may step in and do the job, however. At least not directly. Miss Manners does not want to hear of your hissing at the parents or grabbing away whatever they were using to allow the child to amuse himself. That would be rude and probably useless as well. What you can do is bring up the problem with church authorities. But then you must be willing to consider the causes and to suggest a solution. Merely issuing a directive, in the church bulletin or even from the pulpit, is not likely to help. Deprived of their amusements, the children are likely to behave worse.

Why do parents bring children to church when they are not prepared to teach the children to behave respectfully or when the children are too young to be able to do so? Because they want to attend services themselves and cannot arrange weekly babysitting. So when you complain, it would be useful to suggest that the church find volunteers who are willing to watch children during services. Such an arrangement would be an excellent venue for slipping in some lessons about proper church behavior. What these parents may not know is how to play on children’s love of ritual to interest them even more than the same old playthings do.

Here is my response:

Dear Editors,

I’d like to offer another perspective on a situation that was addressed by Miss Manners. (Etiquette Corner, November 2005.)

The advice-seeker was complaining about a boy at her church who was playing with a handheld video game system during the Sunday service. Noise wasn’t the issue as the sound was turned off, but she felt it was inappropriate. She reported that the “usher glared at the mother” who seemed “oblivious” and wanted to know if there was something she could have done or said herself to “maintain decorum.”

In offering her advice, Miss Manners said the parents were “shirking their job” of disciplining their son and wondered why any parent would bring children to church “when they are not prepared to teach the children to behave respectfully.”

I hope Miss Manners will consider the notion that it’s entirely possible that the parents of that boy were in fact attempting to maintain decorum by allowing their son to quietly play with his video game.

My son has ADHD. Like many kids with this diagnosis – not to mention other disabilities – he has trouble sitting still, paying attention to something that doesn’t hold his interest and speaking in a quiet voice. Because his GameBoy allows him to focus and concentrate on something he enjoys, it has been a useful tool in managing his behavior and settling him down when he’s feeling restless or agitated. I thank God everyday for my son’s GameBoy because it has allowed our family to take long car trips, eat in nice restaurants, and travel by plane and cruise ship without having to exclude him.

Those parents could have left their son with a babysitter. But then how would they ever introduce their faith to their child? That was my thinking when, for the children’s High Holiday services at our temple this year, I went with my purse filled with Scooby Doo books and Batman action figures. Of course I was hoping that the Rabbi’s stories, the Cantor’s singing and the shofar blowing would be enough to engage my son. But if they weren’t, my choices would be to either leave the service or find something to interest him.

Research shows that many children with hyperactivity are perfectly capable of dividing their attention between multiple tasks without affecting their comprehension. So it’s entirely possible that the boy at church heard – and processed – every word of the Sunday service. (The advice-seeker said he stood at the appropriate times while still playing his game.)

Parents can do their best to teach proper behavior but there will always be children with special needs who are limited in their abilities to conform to society’s expectations. As long as the child isn’t disruptive, his presence should not be a concern for those around him. As the mother of not one, but two special needs children, I would ask others not to make assumptions about others’ parenting effectiveness.

In this scenario, the advice-seeker saw parents who failed to teach their child respectful behavior. I see parents who, possibly, in respect to their child’s limitations, succeeded at teaching their child how to be part of a community in his own way. For this boy, it was playing video games in church. For another child, it might mean showing up to temple in old sneakers because the more appropriate dress shoes are painfully uncomfortable. Some kids may need to attend a service from the back of the sanctuary where they can pace or move around without disturbing others. I’m fairly confident God doesn’t mind.

They are, of course, how He made them.

Respectfully,

Debbie Feit

Road To Nowhere?

It’s been 23 days since Max was on his prescription stimulant and the past three have me wondering if that’s the reason behind his unacceptable behavior.

In the last three days, Max has bit Dave, spit on Ari and peed on the floor. Twice.

This, of course, is in addition to the daily usual suspects – talking back, unacceptable language, hitting and teasing Ari, among others.

On our first “bad day,” I simply chalked it up to the fact that everyone is entitled to an off day – even those whose moods are being moderated by little pills. Day two, I considered Max on notice. At least to myself. But after today, the day that involved offenses by two different bodily functions, I had to wonder if this was simply a rough patch in the road or the path to downhill fast.

Honestly, I have spent the past three weeks singing the praises of fish oil. The essential fatty acids, to my surprise and joy, have been doing a great job managing Max’s ADD. I would go so far as to say they’ve done a better job alone than they did in conjunction with the prescription medication.

It’s not that I wasn’t a believer in this natural approach. I’ve heard enough anecdotal evidence to know it’s valid. It’s just that I’ve always also been a believer in pharmaceuticals. I speak from personal experience, which is more than Tom Cruise can say. (Don’t. Get. Me. Started.)

But it’s hard to know where to attribute all the credit. I imagine part of it is the fish oil itself. Another piece of the equation is the fact that with Max no longer on a stimulant, he is eating better, sleeping better and sleeping longer. That improved quality of his sleep contributes not only to his improved disposition, but to mine as well. I also think, or would like to think, that another factor is the way we’re handling Max’s behaviors. His therapist has given us wonderful tools, but without the benefit of medication, Max simply wasn’t receptive to any of them. Once he became more compliant, less defiant and better focused, we were able to put some systems in place to effectively manage his behavior.

Is it time to call the pharmacy for a refill? I honestly don’t know. This certainly isn’t our first setback. It’s not the first time I’ve relished Max’s successes, admired major improvements and started to feel that everything was going to be all right.

And it’s not the first time my peaceful drive down a smooth road came to a crashing halt because I was blindsided by something I didn’t expect.

Makes Me Want To Scream

Here’s what’s wrong with the public school’s special education services:

Ari’s speech therapist, Miss P., called to let me know she wouldn’t be able to see her tomorrow. I didn’t think it was a big deal – unexpected things pop up. And Ari still had a private speech session scheduled, plus a second one with Miss P., for later in the week.

Then she explained why she wouldn’t be able to see Ari.

She was attending a committee meeting. The special education committee meeting. She had put in a request for a substitute therapist so her kids wouldn’t have to miss a session, but the powers that be didn’t come through.

Ari is just one of many kids who will miss their speech therapy this week. It’s not a big deal for us, but many of these kids only get one session a week and are not necessarily getting private services. At over $120 an hour, private speech therapy is, unfortunately, a luxury many families can’t afford.

So here’s what I understand: Miss P.’s bosses want her to cancel therapy sessions in order to attend a committee meeting. The goal of the meeting is to see how the school district can better serve the students receiving special education services.

Perhaps the first goal should be a lesson in common sense.

George Lucas Would Be Proud

The kids are sitting at the kitchen table eating dinner. As I pop into the other room for a moment, Max yells, “Mom, I’m teaching Ari words she doesn’t know.” I’ll admit – for a second I was concerned about this little vocabulary lesson. Was he going to teach her how to say “stupid baby mommy?” (His preferred choice of curse words. I know. I’m lucky that’s the worst he can come up with.)

Because while Max has been doing incredibly well on fish oil alone for ten days now, he hit a rough patch this afternoon. He was on my computer, playing games at www.spykids.com, and was having trouble. “I keep getting killed,” he wailed to me. When I was unable to move him to the next level in the game, he only became more distraught and agitated. He started spitting and whining and hitting. Then he threw a tennis ball at me and knocked over my modem. It wasn’t his best moment.

So I wasn’t sure how devilish he was feeling when he announced his intention to teach Ari new words. But his lesson went like this:

Max: Ari, say Obi-Wan Kenobi
Ari: Obi-Wan Kenobi
Max: Say Jar Jar Binks
Ari: Jar Jar Binks
Max: Say Luke’s robot hand
Ari: Luke’s robot hand

He wasn’t trying to teach her the worst words he knew…he was teaching her his favorites.

Dora's Not a Swinger

Having arrived a few minutes early for Ari's speech therapy -- a rare occurrence, I assure you -- we take seats in the waiting room. Ari wanders over to the toy area and returns with a Dora doll and a Tarzan action figure. "You be Tarzan, I be Dora," she commands and places the toy in my hand. I initiate a conversation with Dora:

Me: Hi Dora. Want to come to the jungle with me?
Ari: No. I live in a different movie.

For a kid who claims to be Ariel one day and Sleeping Beauty the next, I was surprised by her inflexibility. Amused -- but surprised.

Little Drummer Boy

Max has been off his meds and solely on fish oil for six days now and has been doing remarkably well. Don’t get me wrong – he still has his moments. But they’re no worse than the moments he’s had on his medication.

Tired after his biggest blow-out of the day – the result of me trying to get him to do his homework, which consisted of reading for ten minutes – he came to me as I sat at my desk and fell onto my lap. He had taken his shirt off earlier – the tantrums are quite the workout, I imagine – and I started patting his back in a rhythm. “You make a good drum,” I told him. We were both enjoying the drumming and cuddling and he said, “This feels like stamping my feet.” I asked him to clarify, “You mean this feels good the way stamping your feet feels good?” “Yeah,” he said. “When I’m angry.”

I shouldn’t have been surprised by this discovery as Max has had his share of occupational therapy in the past and I had developed an understanding of how the body responds to certain sensory input. Long before his ADD diagnosis, Max was found to have sensory integration disorder. And the activities that comprised his OT – playing in a ball pit, hanging from a trapeze swing, pushing a heavy ball – all helped to make Max less sensitive to noise and less agitated by the sensations that upset him such as walking in bare feet and washing with soap. I knew that some kids, like Max, felt calmer and more comfortable in their bodies when they received strong sensory input, such as being hugged tightly, when carrying something heavy or when receiving joint compressions and brushing using the Wilbarger protocol.

But it has been a long time since that white, bristle-y brush was part of our daily routine. A long time since Max got excited knowing he was going to “play” with Mr. Dave. My mind has been so busy filling up with new information over the years (more than I’ve needed given our misdiagnoses) that I had forgotten what I already knew to be true: That strong sensory input calms Max down. That drumming on his back could be a new tool in our family toolbox for settling him down when he’s upset.

That Max realized it, too, made the discovery all the more exciting.