So far it has been a rough couple of months.
At first, Jacques was pretty much having nightmares every weeknight, with only weekends being restful. The other day he was mumbling something about math. He still has nightmares at least twice during the week.
When asked, he tells me that he has had a good day at school. He is usally excited at the end of the day and tells me all about what he has learned. As usual, gtting him to talk about who he has played with is like pulling teeth. And there has been two phone calls.
The first was to inform me that Jacques and his brother had been licking pine cones at recess at some older children’s instigation. Jacques seems to be going through a licking phase. I think he is trying to amuse the folks around him. He loves jokes, be he just doesn’t seem to be able to differentiate between when kids are laughing with him and laughing at him. The second call was a more convoluted story. There had been two incidents on that day. The first was that Jacques scared a little girl. Jacques has been playing on and off with some of the grade 1 students, because that’s what grade his brother is in. In this case, he forgot to use what I like to call play protocol (ask someone to play before starting to play), and just started yelling and chasing this little girl. Well, Jacques being tall for his age (as is normal with a 48 XXYY diagnosis), apparantly scared the little girl who ended up crying hysterically and screaming for a teacher. Jacques was just trying to play tag with her, but she thought he was going to catch her and hurt her. The second incident is more complicated, Jacques was playing by himself, pretending to be caterpiller eating (he and I are reading a book all about insects). Some kids thought that he really was eating grass, and started yelling at him, so he pretended to spit the grass out, and ended spitting on a kid. Who then soaked Jacques with a water bottle.
The school was wonderful. I am so impressed on how they called me to inform me of these situations, and how they planned on helping Jacques out, not just to inform me on how the other children were disciplined. I’m pretty sure this type of thing was going on at the other school, but I never heard anything.
The schoolwork is starting to get out of his abilities now too. He had a project that was well beyond his capabilities. One look at the sheet would send him into fits of crying before we even discussed anything. After a week of me helping him out, I finally wrote a letter to his teacher explaining that I felt the assignment was inappropriate and that I wasn’t sure what I was permitted to modify or not. Again, a much better response than the previous school. I received a phone call from the teacher that very evening and we talked until I felt that she understood my issues and that we were on the same page. But for Jacques it might already be late, his anxiety is through the roof.
The Friday of Thanksgiving weekend, he came out of the school in tears and wouldn’t tell me why. After some gentle prodding the next day, he told me “All the kids think I am too slow”. According to him “I’m ok in Math, but not in Language”. Not a big surprise since most guys with 48 XXYY Syndrome have language learning disabilities, including Jacques. I asked him if the problems were his brain was slow, or his hand was slow writing (I have been working on teaching him to type and he had been resisting me somewhat). He admitted both and agreed with me that if he learned to type, he might be fast enough not to have to worry about his brain being a little slow. When asked, he also thought that he didn’t think the kids were laughing at him, but they were just noticing. He was rather weepy all weekend, even though I gave him time off from all his homework and various exercises from therapists. He even wet himself that week one night, which hadn’t happened since he was potty trained. My mom asked him if he had any friends yet, and he replied that he hadn’t been at the school long enough. And while all of this self awareness makes me happy and proud on one hand, the sadness in his eyes when he tells me these things, breaks my heart.