As television and magazine adverts for ADD/ADHD meds have increased significantly, and as debates over them and the authenticity of the condition itself do continue, I'm put in mind of the precise instant I decided the issue went well beyond 'antsy', 'forgetful', 'inattentive', 'poor behavior', when it became plain to me the conditions are quite real.
By the late 1980s/early 1990s, my colleagues, teachers and admins were more and more moving in the direction of embracing the diagnosis despite our own reservations and lack of anything like our own expertise, and despite some colleagues' old-school sense that the condition was a fraud perpetrated by pill-pushers and weak-kneed, ever-enabling parents.
Then, on one day, in one moment, a fourteen-year-old boy, convinced me beyond any doubt.
At the private school in Philadelphia where I was middle division head, a fair percentage of our 180-some fifth-through-eighth-graders enrolled with any number of diagnoses that had bearing on the kinds of accommodations we'd offer in our teaching-day. Extra-time testing, recording as an alternative to note-taking, and some very small classes were just some of the measures we'd take in order to reach all sorts of learners. Many traditional academic independent and public schools did that then. Most do now and good-on-them for it.
ADD/ADHD presented a particular challenge for faculties in schools not founded for special-needs children. Of course, we had specialists, great ones, in fact, who taught their colleagues a great deal about all sorts of challenges our kids and families faced. Some longer-tenured teachers were at best skeptical about the diagnoses. There was a sort of tug-of-war with me at the center between them and our more recently educated, mostly younger faculty, all of whom had no doubt that families of, and kids with, the condition were sincere and often at a loss to get some skeptical teachers to buy in to their concerns.
Ricky L. was fourteen, likeable, popular, more than reasonably bright, and rarely came to any class with the necessary texts and materials. He'd turn in partial, crinkled, slopped-up homework papers, clear in his own mind that they were complete. Often teachers would have to retrieve relevant pages from the detritus-ridden, old and soggy sandwich-laden black hole that was his backpack. Some colleagues wanted to have his last name replace "tardy" on the standard daily and class-by-class newly computerized attendance reports. By mid-September we'd had several consults with Ricky's parents, our learning specialist, counselors, and Ricky's outside psychologist. I say mid-September because by then, early as it was, some faculty wanted to strangle him for his deer-in-headlights, rush-about, yet usually harmless-to-others, continuous personal mayhem.
Lunch hour for middle schoolers was often three minutes of food-inhalation followed by forty-seven of basketball, tag-football, hanging-out, or just running about in the gym. On that Friday, I made my after-lunch rounds, in halls, classrooms, my Dean's office. Coming out of her office, I saw Ricky L., ten minutes late to his next class, running very fast toward me. He knocked me into a bank of lockers and I went town on my bum. He stopped, afraid. He stood over me. I looked up at him with an expression that said, "It's ok. I'm ok".
It was then I couldn't help but notice that Ricky L. was hardly prepared for that next class and this time he wasn't simply without books.
I said, "Ricky, you seem to have become separated from your trousers."
In fact he'd been racing to History with his sneakers and socks and BVDs and nothing else.
Ricky looked down, reddened. "Mr. W., I...I...my...you hurt?"
I shook my head, stood up. In a friendly voice, but one that had to betray astonishment, I inquired, "Ricky, ah...you have no idea where your trousers are, do you?" We were just outside my Dean's office and she stepped out, eyes-widening. Anne shot me a look that said, "SEE?" She'd been wanting me for over a year to acknowledge ADD/ADHD more forcefully. I nodded at her, shook my head again, and smiled.
"Ricky, any idea where your trousers might be?"
"No."
I believed him.
"Where did you spend lunch hour?"
"At lunch."
"Yes. How about after you finished lunch?"
"I really like those burgers!"
"What did you do, Ricky, after lunch?"
"Played basketball. In the gym. I think."
Anne took Ricky's hand. "You and I, Ricky, are going to find your khakis!" And off they went to return in ten minutes having found the now grime-streaked, balled-up khaki trousers and once-white polo shirt stashed well underneath the gym stands. Ricky had absolutely no idea how they got there. We got him a change of clothes from the school store.
That was it for me. I was convinced. We did reach more faculty over the next few years. We also helped Ricky L.'s family find, the following year, a school that could far better than ours teach to his needs. Our parting was amicable. My understanding is that Ricky L. graduated from that school, went to college. on to grad school, and is now, at about thirty-six, a practicing psychologist.
When I see the ramped-up advertising now, as I stay on top of the professional literature as it migrates into the popular press, I recall Ricky and Anne, and smile, silently thanking them both again for giving me my ADD/ADHD Teachable-Moment.
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Max Rivlin-Nadler
Linda Seccaspina
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If only more people would understand that Ricky and I don't MEAN to cause such mayhem around us, but life just occurs differently over here. Honest, we don't know how those pants and shirt got there, because we were busy with something else. VERY busy.
Rated/Bud
Later today I will post about one especially enlightening moment I had with him, that floors me to this day. What goes on in that kids' head is nothing short of amazing!
Wonderful post - you put a big smile on my face this morning ;-)
AD/HD is not just a child's disorder. It does not go away as you age. I was 46 years old when my doctor gave me a simple test (I was really frustrated at work, I had a desk job and hated it). She sent it home for me to fill out, but I lost it.
She said, "How AD/HD of you." I have much more serious issues, so at first didn't know what to think. I did try the adult form for it, and it was like having an "auto-focus" in my brain. Whenever I was interrupted, my brain auto focused back to the task I was working on. Previously, I liked to do three things at one time and think I was being efficient. What I was doing was making a lot of mistakes.
I don't take the meds any more, but I do have a job that requires absolute precision, with every exam identical, and my AD/HD acted up, I did everything right but the procedures, I kept reading the directions wrong, and the more they tried to correct me the worse it got.
Finally, it came out in conversation that I was AD/HD and my boss just stopped, and said, "That doesn't go away either, does it?" So he cut me some slack on the procedural side because in all other areas I was fine. My brain rejects the idea of doing the exact same thing the exact same way everytime. Now that is something autistic kids gyrate to, repetative behavior. For me, it drives me crazy.
Great post, good food for thought (literally) I'd like an AD/HD with bacon and mayo on the side!
I know a girl who has been given Ritalin,and when I told the adoptive mother what I had found out,she would not reconsider her decision.A whole generation being supplied with "pill for peace and quiet",just imagine where it might lead.
Rated for more awareness.
Lezlie
Other students of mine told me that they liked to add alcohol to what they called "crazy pills." When I asked them why they paid attention in my class, they told me I was not boring them to tears like some of the other teachers.
That said, I think I had a mild form of ADD but trained myself to mentally repeat directions internally as I performed even very simple tasks. It trained my mind.
Before we hand out drugs we should think about better education,training the teachers in new methods.
rated with love
How typically linear-minded of you all.
The very worst issue anyone with ADD/ADHD has to deal with in this world, in my opinion -- linear attitudes -- and there's enough to deal with when one's brain takes the circular route every day.
I actually like the way my brain works....I have great insights, out-of-the-box problem-solving...
so, I lose track of time....
Oh! My kid! He's got twelve minutes to get to school!
Good piece--except for your having to learn about it from an "extreme" example. So often ADHD has become a "convenient" disorder to explain a lack of discipline and focus that teachers "back in the day" used to "cure" with the simple expect that we "sit down, shut up and pay attention". Worked for me.
Sheer ignorance.
HUGGGGGGGGGGGGGggg
Whatever may work for one person may not work for another, yet it's amazing how sacrosanct everyone thinks whatever worked for them is and how frequent the opinion that actually putting into one's brain the molecules which others have naturally occurring (or have the requisite amount of receptor sites to make use of typical amounts of) somehow moved the condition into that derisive realm of "weakness, manipulation, succumbing to the ravages of big-pharma, dosing for the convenience of others" or some other variation of weakness, fallibility or lack of WILL POWER. The "if you only tried hard enough" blame the victim mentality, re framed in barely concealed versions of what religions would decry as some sort of moral weakness.
For everyone who has found another route to overcome the hell which this can be - congratulations, that's wonderful. To everyone who falls into the realm I've described above (and all of it's variations): STFU. Yes, I can see why there's concern about medicating children when there may be another way to deal with the issue, but to deny that there may not be, is just a sad old continuation of the prejudices which have kept people from seeking help for this and other mental conditions, cloaked in a modern version of "concern".
Also, Edward M. Hallowell, M.D. and John J. Ratey, M.D. use the term "attention inconsistency disorder" in their book "Driven to Distraction" to more accurately describe the attentional problems related to ADD. That means that people with ADD are also able to hyper-focus in ways "normal" people couldn't even imagine, yes, think outside the box and frequently (like the people with Bi-polar type "IIb" described by psychiatrist Ronald Fieve, in his book "Mood Swing") are some of the most creative, productive individuals alive.
Do what is best for you, but for gawd sakes, make room for ANY individual's route to sanity and a life that's not tortured!
R!
I wouldn't be too hard on yourself for not believing in it. It's just the case that all mental diagnosis's seem suspect in some way, barring Schizophrenia and Mania 1-- which is so obvious and out there.
I think ADD is probably over diagnosed. But I also think it's real and that medication can help. Every case is different, but I would hate to see those who medication would help get lost amid the controversy.
As I was told in one particular case,the mother had spent almost the whole pregnancy in bed,and this caused a deficit/weakness in the child's depth-focus.
Jonathan,I would have liked to be that child to receive your tender care and professional understanding of the child's needs.
Jon, I'm glad you got up off that floor and wrote this...R
I'm certainly opposed to using medication as a substitute for being a good parent and a disciplinarian when the need arises. But I would not take a single Ritalin tablet away from a child who truly needs it to get through their days successfully.
rated
We chased the usual behavior-adjustment, diet-tinkering, rewards charts, etc. but the reality is that he was rapidly falling fast and lagging behind his peers. He was miserable, his incredibly patient and dedicated teacher was ready for her own Valium, and we were scared beyond words for him.
After one therapist suggested that he had a cognitive-deficiency (translate: "your kid is dumb"), we sought out a psychiatrist, who observed our son, talked with him, then prescribed Focalin, an ADHD drug.
The VERY FIRST DAY, his teachers all saw remarkable changes in him... and saw did he. He was happy and proud of himself.
ADHD medication has been a lifesaver for all of us. And, as our sono puts it, it lets him "try his very best".
Only those who have lived through the pain, shame and judgments of other people can really appreciate the miracle the medicine is producing for kids like our son. I join Samasiam in saying STFU to those condemning our decision.
I was diagnosed in my forties. (It has a lot to do with the task I haven't finished that would allow me to come back to OS for real and start posting again.) A lot of anecdotal evidence added up, including sitting down at the piano in college and never being able to keep my head in practicing any given piece for long, no matter how I tried. Then a psychiatric practice where I was being tested put me in front of a computer with the following instructions:
"Hit the space bar every time you see a letter come up on the screen, unless it's an X."
This went on for like fifteen minutes. I knew I'd made a couple of mistakes and told the psychiatrist or psychologist (I don't remember who did the actual testing) so. He replied: "We weren't only looking at accuracy; we were also looking at reaction times. Yours flagged abnormally." Well, at least that was objective. Meds, unfortunately, don't do all that much for me, though they make an obvious difference for my daughter.
Yes, it's real.
But I've never forgotten my pants.