I often hear parents of children with multiple mental health conditions complain about the lack of resources in public schools. I read countless testimonials online, and although my oldest wasn’t in school yet and showed no signs of anxiety, ADHD, or anything else that would have warranted an early visit to a pediatrician, I still felt empathy for these families in need who couldn’t find all the necessary resources in the schools that I help fund every week through my taxes. Even though I understood that schools couldn’t provide a support specialist for every child who needed one, I found it sad to see families placed on endless waiting lists, sometimes just to get a diagnosis for their child.
This year, my son started kindergarten. It’s his first year in the public school system, since he’d always been in private daycare. It’s his first time in a class of 30 students. It’s his first time in a much more structured environment, I suppose, because he’s having trouble keeping up. It’s not that he isn’t smart, distracted, or hyperactive—it’s just that he doesn’t listen when he isn’t interested. Um… okay? I understand that it might be a hassle to have to constantly tell a child to come sit down and finish his drawing when the rest of the kids are following instructions to the letter, but so far, all I see is a 5-year-old who’s starting to understand that you don’t always get to do what you want in life. Let me remind you that we’re in preschool—the year of the transition from daycare to school, the year of learning how to be rather than just how to do.
I do, however, receive a call from the educational psychologist who will be working with my son. Although my son has mostly green days and a few yellow days here and there—but never, ever a red day—he’s considered problematic enough to see a specialist. At the start of our meeting, she explains that she met with my son in class and administered a few tests to understand his development, his life, and his interests. She also takes the time to explain something quite interesting to me. She has to work with six students per class—six in EVERY class. So, I understand that my son is among the six children who pay the least attention in class, but does that really mean he’s problematic enough to require follow-up with the psychoeducator? I’m seriously questioning this. I understand the psychoeducator’s position—she has to choose six students; she needs to justify her full-time presence at the school. It would be hard to justify her salary to her employer if she were working with only two students in one class and one in another, but that leads us to wonder about the work she might be doing with a child who may not really need it—and about all the work that won’t be done with a child who is truly problematic.
Of course, I don’t know the entire system, and perhaps some readers will tell me I’m mixing apples and oranges, but if I’m questioning how school enrollment is managed, I’m probably not the only one. In short, I followed the path the educational psychologist directed me down (always with the goal of making sure I didn’t miss a more serious problem down the road) and went to occupational therapy. In the end, I paid $600 for an evaluation and assessment only to learn that my son is simply… shy.