It’s Really Hard.
“Mom,” Dylan groaned. “I have something to tell you.”
We had just been sitting down to discuss his plans for staying organized in school.
“Yes, Dylan?” I said.
“This school is really hard. Like three of my friends are failing, so it’s not just me. Is there any way I can go back to my old school?”
“No,” I said. “You are staying at this school for the full year. And it’s not the school. You went through this same thing last year at your old school.”
“But everything is so different,” Dylan said. “They expect me to remember stuff like four days after I learn it. It’s really hard.”
A friend had just reminded me, earlier that day, that it is Dylan’s choice, not mine, how his life will proceed – and that he is responsible for his own choices and behaviors.
I owe my thoughtful response – and everything that followed thereafter – to that friend. Even one day prior, I might have started jumping through hoops to fix all the external stimuli so that Dylan’s world would be easier.
But instead, I thought, he has to do this himself.
“It is hard,” I told him. “Maybe you’ve reached the point where you can’t just get by on your intelligence. You’ve been doing that for a lot of years. There comes a point in everyone’s life when they hit a wall. And maybe you’ve reached that point. You can keep ramming into the wall and complaining that it’s hard, or you can choose to do the work that you need to do to succeed.”
“I am doing the work,” he grumbled.
“You are doing some work,” I told him. “But I know you can do more. You are brilliant, and it’s not your ADHD that’s making you fail. It is your choice – and you are welcome to keep failing. It’s your life. But if you want to succeed, maybe now is the time to starting opening books at home and studying before you take a test, so that you can remember what you’ve been taught.”
I used his algebra homework as an example. “Remember when we found the chapter in your algebra book for your homework, and there was a bunch of crap for four pages, and then there were the exercises?”
“Yeah,” Dylan said.
“That crap between the chapter title and the exercises is the stuff you study!”
“I know how to study,” he said.
“I know you do. You’ve studied more in your life than I ever did. Even when you were really little, you only wanted to read nonfiction books because you wanted to learn about things. You’ve been studying Lamborghinis for three years. You just need to study other things, too.”
I swear, I saw a light bulb go on above Dylan’s head. It had a halo effect, and I saw my angel so clearly underneath its light.
That night, he got out his social studies classwork, and studied for a quiz. The next night, he did all of his homework with no complaints, and then did extra (not-yet-due) homework later that evening.
The following morning, he came downstairs early for school. That afternoon, he did homework in the car. He did more homework when he got home. And after he pounded out his third homework assignment, he went upstairs to create digital music for an hour or so.
He stepped up.
I am afraid to be hopeful, but I can’t help myself. I’ve always known he could do it – and now he’s doing it.
He’s doing it!