Jacob explodes into the room, shouting, “TEACHER! I THINK I FORGOT TO TAKE MY MEDS TODAY BUT IT’S OK BECAUSE I’M GOING TO BEHAVE, I PROMISE!”
I put my hands on his shoulders, no easy feat as he is six inches taller than me. “My love, you’re shouting.”
“SORRY, TEACHER!” he hollers. “I WON”T SHOUT!”
I know it will be a long day. I hope there will be no tears, no playground fights, no rhythmically snapping pencils into bits.
On his best — medicated — days, he is sincere, smart, hard-working, charming and funny. Without medication he is impulsive, argumentative, unfocused, prone to outbursts and, above all, loud. By 3:30, both he and I are completely worn out.
There is a common perception that schools are eager to medicate children because it’s easier than redirecting their behavior. The myth maintains that we want rows of complacent zombies sedated into submission by psychotropic drugs.
Admittedly it is easy to spot two or three students each year who would benefit from medication; I sometimes wonder why their parents don’t see the chemical imbalance that is so abundantly clear to me. I’m not above asking at a parent conference, “What does your pediatrician say about Junior’s behavior or level of activity?”
More than one mom has shaken her head adamantly in response to any suggestion of ADD or ADHD.
“I know he’s hyper, but I’m not going to drug my child,” is a common response.
For many years my glib answer was, “If your child had diabetes, you’d give him insulin. If he had anemia, you’d give him iron. If, God forbid, he had leukemia, you’d give him a toxic cocktail of drugs every day for weeks in the hope that it would save his life. ADD or ADHD is a chemical imbalance and can be corrected chemically.”
My tune changed somewhat when my son, a third-grader, announced one day after school, “Mommy, I think I have ADD.”
School was certainly a struggle for him, but I attributed that to a combination of being a boy and being one of the youngest students in his class. However, the more I researched the behaviors associated with attention deficit disorder, the more I thought he was probably right.
I felt strongly about medication though. Even as I gently suggested chemical intervention for students, I wasn’t going to drug my child. I would find alternatives to medication.
Thus we began a three-year odyssey that included protein shakes, removing food coloring from his diet, vitamins B1-12, and enough omega-3 oil that he smelled vaguely fishy for months. I enrolled him in the Young Marines to give him discipline and focus. I played “relax and focus” cassettes for him in the car on the way to school. I prayed, considered hypnosis, and sometimes yelled in frustration, “Would you just please focus?” knowing that he could not.
By the beginning of sixth grade, he and I were both desperate. Despite his considerable intelligence, he was missing assignments, failing tests and unaware that projects were due.
He was anxious, stressed and exhausted from nights spent doing homework until 10 p.m. and mornings that began at 5:30 because he hadn’t finished homework the night before. I gave in and begged his pediatrician to evaluate him for ADD.
He was blessed to have a teacher who sat him down and said, “I took ADHD medication from fourth grade until the end of high school, and that is why I’m able to sit here in the teacher’s chair today. Do what you’ve got to do.”
Receiving his favorite teacher’s seal of approval made the decision easier for both of us. A few weeks later, he began taking medication.
The first day on meds he finished his homework at 6:30 with a triumphant shout, “I’m done! I get to play! This is what regular people are like!”
I didn’t know whether to cry because I had finally given up and given him medication, because I had waited so long to do it, or because I was so relieved by the change. While it isn’t a personality transplant, and school is still a struggle at times, it has made our lives infinitely easier.
I am gentler with parents now. I start conversations with, “I see some characteristics in your child that I see in my own son, who has ADD.” I share aspects of our three-year journey with them.
I understand why they struggle with the idea of giving children stimulants in the hopes that these drugs will provide calm and focus. But I also know that for the child who finds the right treatment and the right dosage, it can mean the difference between exploding into the classroom shouting futile promises to behave and feeling the sweet triumph of success.
