Brilliant … But Bouncy

Anyone Who Needs Extra Breaks Gets Them.

In spite of the fact that we’ve fallen in love with the second school we visited, we went to see another ADHD-centered school. Instead of 9 total pupils in grades 6-12, like the first place we visited, this one includes grades K-8 and has a total of 16 kids.

All 16 students have ADHD (or some variation) so the school is specifically geared toward learning like Dylan does.

“The kids meet in the gym in the morning,” said the headmaster, “where there is an obstacle course set up, so the kids can run first.” The headmaster had to describe the school in great detail since, once again, there were no students to observe.

She stood up as she talked about the obstacle course, and walked around, indicating activity. “Then for half an hour,” she said, returning to her seat, “they have social time. They enjoy that, and they can get it out of their systems before Language Arts.”

Classes then commence – but only in 30-minute blocks. “Every 30 minutes, we have what we call Wiggle Breaks,” she said.

During Dylan’s third grade, I went to his elementary school every day, pulled him out of his class, and let him run around (literally) for five minutes. Then I gave him a handful of almonds to eat on his way back to the classroom. (Almonds have loads of great brain nutrients.)

The principal of the public school put a stop to this as soon as she saw me doing it.

But here in this specialized ADHD-kid school with 16 kids, they take breaks every 30 minutes.

“Some kids even get extra breaks,” she said. “And we make sure anyone who needs extra breaks gets them.”

Their small class size allows each student to use his/her own computer software for studying – and that includes doing math online. All students use computers with great frequency – and P.E. happens every day. The grounds are beautiful – 20 wooded acres – and the church that houses the school has been very accommodating.

Sigh, I thought. If only I’d known about this school years ago.

But years ago, it didn’t exist. It’s only been around for three years.

And years ago, it was substantially more perfect for Dylan than it would be now. Dylan is 5′ 8″. He barely fit into the small classroom chairs. And while he particularly adored the chair called “The Cadillac” – a bouncy exercise ball with wheels – Dylan is way too old for something called a “Wiggle Break.”

There is a strong possibility of a high school coming the following year – which, actually, we didn’t want. We just wanted him to have a place to catch his breath for the year, and develop some solid executive functioning skills.

I’m not sure that having Dylan at this tiny school for one year would teach him how to succeed. It would teach him that there are more kids like him, and that his needs could be met for a mere $17,000 per year. But it wouldn’t really prepare him for high school, or college.

In fact, she even said, “This is like homeschooling.” And quite honestly, it is like homeschooling: individualized attention, a style of learning perfect for the student, and plenty of breaks and fun time built in for sanity.

But I could homeschool for free.

So when we got in the car, I asked Dylan, as nonchalantly as possible, “What did you think of this one?”

“Definitely my second choice,” he said.

So, since we were (almost) in the neighborhood, we drove out to look at the Quaker school again. We got out of the car.

Dylan looked around and said, “I would be honored to call this my school.”

And I feel the same way. So I guess it’s up to God now.