Reason #6: They Believe You

A new year has begun full of brand new notebooks and pencils with sharp lead and full pink erasers. The first few days are always fun as you work your way through the honeymoon of getting to know you and community building. However, some students have needs such that even the promise of a fresh new year isn't enough to whip them into shape.

The student I am speaking of is Marco. Marco is a squirmy noodle with the impulse control of a dog spotting a squirrel. He desperately tries to sit still, only to beat box and whip his body around ten seconds after redirection. He is one of the four students in my room this year with ADHD, a label I am starting to believe is available for purchase with a party-sized bag of Flaming Hot Cheetos.

Marco came up to me on the second day of school to inform me that his butt wouldn't stop itching. I told him that he could go to the bathroom to take care of it. Returning a good while later he asked me if he could speak to me. I told him yes. He asked if we could speak in private, his eyes pleading. I scooted a few inches away from the student conference I was conducting and asked him what he needed.

"Mr. N told me that the reason why my butt is itching is because I don't wash good. And he said if I don't wash good, mold will grow on my butt. And he said when that happens the doctor will have to look at it, and then they're gonna cut off my butt."

It was a statement of fact and also a question. (By the way, just as there is no comprehensive manual for parenting, there is also no class or course that prepares you for how to respond to these comments, or how to conduct conversations such as this one with a straight face.) I let him know that I didn't think it would be a problem because I knew that he would clean himself well tonight when he got home.

Two hours later, Marco came up to me, tears brimming, saying his butt itched again and could he please call his mom to go home. Seeing an opportunity for growth, I asked my resident teacher if she would please take Marco into the hallway to call his mother. A true trooper, she came in five minutes later, grabbed a full roll of paper towels, and walked with Marco to the bathroom to help him take care of his "issue". Later, she told me that it is really a unique feeling to call a child's mother and tell her that her son won't stop scratching his ass.

Marco was much better today, medicated anti-itch cream in hand, and excited to toss it up in the air during our morning meeting, a squiggle worm once more. It got me to thinking. There's something truly innocent and sweet about a boy who really believes that a doctor would cut off his butt. While I was annoyed with my coworker (and slightly amused) for his warning, it does make me wonder what else I might say that my students will believe, and whether I should use my words so flippantly.

Then again, maybe if I threaten Marco with cutting off his arms he might sit still?