Mr. Intermediate and Reese

After the short little two day work week, I am ready for a break.

On Thursday, Reese* was home sick, and I had a Reese-free day! No one argued over toys. Ping pong went well, all kids being willing to take turns, play only to three points and let two other children grab a paddle and have a turn. Our gym game was free of anger, the party atmosphere I'd worked hard to create was just.. plain fun.

Once again, I had a glimpse of what my program would be like if Reese were not there.

Now in case you think I don't like him, please think again. I like him quite a lot. He's actually one of my current favorites in the crop of kids I deal with.

But let me see if I can explain him a little better.
So regular people (not Reese!) have rational steps to their actions.
First, a person thinks about an action, whether scratching their nose, tying their shoe, waving at a friend, spitting on the sidewalk, flashing the traffic... while the brain crew runs around, preparing to start the little impulse engines. They're just waiting for the little intermediate guy in the brain who does the yay or nay.

Most of us have a fairly intelligent intermediate guy. We've nurtured him and he's told us what to do since we were kids, and he usually just lets us know whether our ideas are good ones without much conscious thought.

Mr. Intermediate pretty much controls the brain crew, sometimes not allowing them to start the engines.

It's a continual learning experience at first, but by the time we're about 20 or so, most of our brain crew and minions have learned proper function and etiquette.

Which means that we don't have to spend a lot of time in a heart to heart with Mr. Conscience.

Mr. Conscience is a pretty tough mentor, and he can make you cry. It's better not to upset him and avoid that whole one on one thing.

Most of the time after about age 20, we don't have many conferences with Mr. C anymore, having had enough experiences in life to choose the correct course of action most of the time.

From 20 to 30 is actually a pretty good time in that respect, but then about 30, a mean old woman moves in. She's Mrs. Guilt. As far as I can tell, Mrs. G stays. Forever. Conversations with Mrs. G are very one-sided. Sometimes you can reason with Mr. C, but Mrs. G doesn't listen to reason. A tough taskmaster, she is.

Oops, starting to digress here.

So Mr. Intermediate says 'go' and the little minions run around dumping chemicals and assuring proper function of nerves and muscles and whatnot.

As I've said before, Reese is a high maintenance kid.
I am utterly convinced that he does not possess a Mr. I.

I don't see it as a character flaw, but it's a huge handicap for him.
Because when Reese has an impulse, his little brain minions don't stop to consult anyone. They just... go.

And he gets in trouble at school for his actions, often being kept in at recess along with some other punishment, often being sent to the principal or having to sit at a desk alone, away from the other kids in the class. (I can't think of a more stupid punishment than withholding physical activity from someone who is on the go as much as Reese is, but no one has asked me what I think of the whole idea.)

Anger and displeasure are heaped upon him.

And then, he spends a bit of time with Mr. C.

And because Reese is a unique kid, Mrs.G, instead of waiting for him to reach the age of 30 or so has already taken up residence in his head.

When Reese messes up, Mr. C frowns impressively at him for the rest of the day and Mrs. G beats him over the head repeatedly with the memories of his mistakes.

I don't think that's very easy for Reese, and I know it causes him pain to deal with the double dose of 'you goofed'.

So I feel sorry for him.

I can't imagine the kind of hurt he suffers on at least an hourly basis every day of his life. He isn't like the rest of us, and by now, at age 10, he knows it.

He internalizes his mistakes, and those mistakes deeply hurt his feelings.

Reese has huge feelings. He knows he's different, but he doesn't know why he's different. He can't control himself, even though he really wants to. He would love to be one of the 'good' kids. One of the examples of leadership or other desirable behaviors that are pointed out to others.

So what do I do when Reese messes up?

Well, he is different from the other kids. But if I were to treat him differently than I treat them, and give him a free pass because he's not the same as the other kids, it would not be doing him any favors. He has to have it explained to him when he does something that he should not do.

My usual way of handling transgressions (for lack of a better word) is to take the child aside, usually have them sit down next to me where I can see the room so I can continue to monitor everyone's actions, but have his or her back turned so everyone can't see their face as they're being talked to.

And we talk.
I don't get angry. I don't call them names or belittle them or try to make them feel bad in any way.

Not only is it mean and horrible to have the adult in charge make you feel like shit, it's counter-productive.

My goal is to get them to think before they act, and try to change their behavior.
There is no punitive action, they are children and they are learning from my example. I try really hard to set a good one.

I usually start by saying, "Why did I call you over here?"
Most of the time, they know the answer.
Something like, "I took Rachelle's toy and wouldn't give it back and she chased me."

And I say, "And why is taking someone's toy a poor choice?"

In return I get an answer like, "Well, it wasn't mine and then she chased me and running in the cafeteria is not safe."

"Right. And you know we have safety rules because it's my job to keep you all alive until your parents get here."

(I frequently use that phrase, they love it and it makes them smile. It also gets the point across in a gentle, humorous way.) 

"I don't like seeing people get hurt. So please remember to play with your own toys and not take things from other people. And remember to walk in this room. Can you do that?"

I always get a yes, and then I say, "Now go play."
There is no punishment. No ostracizing. The day just... goes on.

All I've done is remind the child that their safety is important and that they need to respect the other kids in the program.

Easy lesson to teach, easy to absorb, no shouting, no hurt feelings, no anger, no mean expression on my face... just a matter of fact discussion that takes all of about 15 seconds and life goes on.

But with Reese, it's different.

When he first joined my program, and I would call him over for a little conference, when I'd say, "Why did I call you over here?" he'd answer, "Because I was bad."

Oh God.
No no no no no.

"Reese, you're not bad. You made a choice that wasn't very good, but that doesn't mean you're bad. It just means you need to make different choices. I can't have you come here and be loud and rude in the hallway."

(or have people listen to you use inappropriate language or see you use poor manners at snack by farting and laughing or poking people with sticks or breaking toys or snooping in someone's backpack, being mean to the smaller kids or.. make up any action you can think of that gets kids in trouble... he's done all of them and more, Reese has. No filter. No Mr. Intermediate.)

I have dealt with a Reese many times. I want to help, yes, but more important is to avoid damaging them.

He is a child. Not a demon or a brat or a jerk or an asshole. He's just a kid who has a harder time than most to remember to use respect and good behavior.

I'm not going to teach him those things by yelling at him, being perpetually angry with him, or constantly harping to his parental units about his behavior. They entrust his care to me for a certain amount of time daily, and unless he shows an extreme, documented pattern of behavior, I am not going to bother them with a list of his daily infractions.

There are times I've had a discussion with him and his mom, and have calmly laid out the behavior I've observed and dispassionately explained why it has to change and what's expected in the future.

And he tries. He really does.

But I don't know of any tricks to implant a Mr. Intermediate in anyone's head, so I suspect that Reese will continue to act on impulse. I think we have to count on the fact that underneath the impulsive and prickly exterior, he has a kind heart and is a good kid. That eventually he will develop some kind of filter that allows him to at least pause if not think before he acts.

He loves his little sister, often vociferously coming to her defense from across the room if she is exchanging angry words with another child. I have had to talk with him several times and ask him to allow her to work out her own problems with her friends, explaining that she needs to develop her own skills with that.

I tell him that I admire what an excellent big brother he is, that some brothers don't even worry at all about their little sisters, and that I wished so many times when I was growing up that I had an older brother. Someone to be on my side and care about me and take care of me the way he does with Elaine*.

I understand his wish to keep her out of arguments. He loves her. There is nothing standing between him and his desire to keep her safe, and he will do anything or say anything necessary to keep her feelings from being hurt.

I don't like it when the kids are snippy with each other, either. But they're kids. They're learning how to solve issues and be a friend.

I listen to frequent little arguments and spats and decide whether or not to intervene.

There's a lot of benefit to children in letting them learn how to solve disagreements in a constructive way. And a little sniping at each other doesn't really harm them. However, I have to monitor the discussions without appearing to, and be ready to jump in and defuse the situation before they explode, too. It seems those types of situations happen mostly with the girls.

The boys are more physical. The situation is likely to escalate to pushing and shoving sooner rather than later, and I have developed a real knack for catching things before they go too far.

Of course except for stopping Reese before he goes off.
That knack has eluded me.
:)

I sometimes am amazed at how much I love what I do.
It sure is a lot more than serving snacks and making sure they put away their toys.