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A Birthday Message to Colin

A mom from Kalamazoo, Mich., created a Facebook page for her son called “Happy Birthday Colin.” She did so after he told her he had no friends to invite to his upcoming birthday celebration. Colin has issues that are similar to autism, though his specific diagnoses are not yet public. Given my youngest son’s challenges on that front — not to mention my own — this squeezed my heart. What follows is an open letter to Colin.

Mood music:

Dear Colin:

Because of the mental and physical challenges you face, some people have trouble figuring you out. Some classmates and their parents may not be comfortable around you. They mean no harm. It’s just that, unfortunately, human beings often react foolishly to things they don’t understand.

I experienced that as a kid, though probably not to the degree you are experiencing now. Some of the kids who made fun of me back then are good friends today. Because we eventually grow up and learn to understand and even appreciate our differences.

If I’ve learned anything in my own journey, it’s that you can’t always hide from hurt and disappointment. Life is hard. But it’s supposed to be.

It’s how we find out what we’re truly made of.

Item: Franklin Delano Roosevelt was a pampered child whose worldview changed when he was crippled by polio in 1921. A lot of people would have given up right there, but he rebuilt his life, became a mentor to other polio victims and was the longest-serving president in history, dealing with war and economic calamity that could have broken the spirit of healthier leaders. Through it all, he carried on an outward cheeriness that put people at ease.

When I was a kid there were plenty of roadblocks. I missed a lot of school because of Crohn’s Disease and lost a brother when I was only a couple of years older than you are now. My studies suffered, and I was put in a lot of the classes where they put the problem children.

Things worked out, though. I got married and had two kids that are much smarter than I was at that age. I have a job that’s allowed me to do a lot of excellent things (excellent to me, anyway).

You shouldn’t settle for anything less than the life you want. And you shouldn’t resign yourself to the idea that you can’t have good friends.

Item: Abraham Lincoln suffered crippling depression his whole life and lost two of his four children, all in a time before anti-depressants were around. He led the Union through the Civil War and ended slavery.

There will be setbacks and those can be discouraging, but you CAN survive them with the right perspective. Be patient with those around you and they will come around someday.

Item: The drummer from Def Leppard had an arm ripped off in a car wreck. A lot of people thought his career was over. Twenty-six years later, he’s still drumming.

Just keep trying, and never give up on yourself. Nobody can hold you back. Only YOU can hold yourself back.

One more thing: Having a good life doesn’t mean you get to live without the bad stuff from time to time.

It’s easy for people who fight mental illness and neurological disorders to go on an endless, futile search for the happily ever after, where you somehow find the magic bullet to murder your demons, thus beginning years of bliss and carefree existence.

There’s no such thing as happily ever after.

That’s OK.

I believe in you. Your mom certainly believes in you.

The rest is up to you.

Your friend,

Bill

Colin

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Taking Lunch from Children Is Never OK

The headline was so outrageous I didn’t believe it at first. I see a lot of crazy stuff on the Internet that doesn’t hold up under scrutiny. Unfortunately, this one is true: Administrators  at Uintah Elementary School in Salt Lake City confiscated and trashed the lunches of up to 40 students because their parents were apparently behind in payments.

Mood music:

From The Salt Lake City Tribune:

Jason Olsen, a Salt Lake City District spokesman, said the district’s child-nutrition department became aware that Uintah had a large number of students who owed money for lunches. As a result, the child-nutrition manager visited the school and decided to withhold lunches to deal with the issue, he said. But cafeteria workers weren’t able to see which children owed money until they had already received lunches, Olsen explained. The workers then took those lunches from the students and threw them away, he said, because once food is served to one student it can’t be served to another. Children whose lunches were taken were given milk and fruit instead.

Parents were understandably outraged. Erica Lukes, whose 11-year-old daughter had her cafeteria lunch taken from her as she stood in line Tuesday, told the newspaper that as far as she knew, she was all paid up. “I think it’s despicable,” she said. “These are young children that shouldn’t be punished or humiliated for something the parents obviously need to clear up.”

The school district issued this lame apology:

When lunch time came, students who still had negative balances were told they could not have a full meal but were given a piece of fruit and a milk for lunch. The district does this so children who don’t have money for lunch can at least have some food and not go without.

Anyone with half a brain knows a piece of fruit and milk is hardly enough lunch for a child. It’s also a known fact that for a lot of poorer kids, school lunch is often the only decent meal they get all day.

Any decent soul knows that when parents fall behind on payments, it should never, ever be taken out on the kids. What’s worse is that in this case, it doesn’t appear parents knew they owed money.

I want to forgive the administrators who did this. I doubt they are heartless. I doubt they set out to do wrong. But their actions certainly demonstrate that they are unqualified to be doing the jobs they have. They should be fired or retrained.
Uintah Elementary in Salt Lake City

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When Teachers Get It

Last night I attended a parent information night at Sean and Duncan’s new school. It’s a great school, but the kids have been struggling to adjust, especially Duncan. That’s to be expected. But there is always that worry in the back of my brain that teachers will never truly understand Duncan, who has ADHD.

We moved them to this new school because we felt Duncan in particular needed a more organized, regimented environment to thrive. His academics are going well, but he is clearly not at ease in his new surroundings. Not yet, anyway.

But by the time last night’s event was over, I knew everything would be fine. The fourth-grade teachers showed us this video, which tells me they get it. The video is from a website called Raising Small Souls and is worth a few minutes of your time.

Thanks to Duncan’s teachers for showing they get it.

Animal School

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To Duncan on His 14th Birthday

Note: I’ve often written notes to my kids on their birthday. This was originally written when Duncan turned 1o.

An open letter to my second child on his 10th birthday…

Mood Music:

At 2 a.m. on Sept. 15, 2003, I was jolted awake by your mom shoving me in the shoulder. I had just gone to bed 45 minutes earlier, and I had had a lot of wine the night before.

You weren’t expected for a few more days, so I figured I could drink and watch TV all night. I worked the night desk at The Eagle-Tribune back then, and Sunday night was MY time.

But your mom knew you were coming. And unlike your brother’s slow entry into the world two and a half years before, the labor pains you gave your mother came on fast and furious.

This was the first time you made it clear that you were going to be heard. It certainly hasn’t been the last.

Fun fact: On the ride to the hospital, as I drove over the train tracks, Mom’s water broke. The car was still brand new at that point, and that would be the first of many messes you would make of that car. We were afraid you would be delivered in that car. That’s how intense your Mom’s labor pains were. It was the first and only time Mom let me blow through red lights. Two of them, to be specific. When we reached the hospital, I accidentally slammed Mom’s finger in the car door. She barely noticed, with the labor pains you were giving her.

You entered the world by early afternoon, and you were perfect. You still are.

Sean couldn’t wait to meet you. He had a stomach bug and was throwing up all over the living room the morning after you were born. But he wasn’t going to miss meeting his new little brother. Not for the wide world.

Fun fact: We chose the name Duncan for you early on. Your mom and I each made lists of potential names and Duncan was the only name on both lists. A lot of people think we came up with that name because of Dunkin’ Donuts. But I’m a Starbucks kind of guy and people should know better. Actually, I put the name on my list because your brother was really into Thomas the Tank Engine at that point, and one of the trains was named Duncan. As you now proudly tell people, your name is Scottish for “brown warrior.” You carry the name of a leader; a chief. It’s a name of strength. The key is to put your stamp on it. With your kind heart and strong faith (how many kids your age go to the chapel AFTER Mass to pray a little more because they WANT to?) I know you’ll do great.

You have a beautiful command of language and vocabulary, and one of my great pleasures is watching you with your face buried in a book or writing stories on the computer. You gave yourself an awesome pen name in N.R. Rennerb (Brenner spelled backwards, for those of you who didn’t immediately catch on).

You’re as brave and daring as your name suggests. It was you who talked your brother into going camping with your grandparents for the first time. You also dove into Cub Scouts and basketball without hesitating. Learning to ride a bicycle was a big challenge, but you never gave up. Who would have thought the key was simply raising the seat an inch or so?

You say things that make me laugh. Like the time you walked up to the old man in the van in front of Toys R Us and scolded him for smoking. Your exact words were, “Smoking is dumb, you know. It puts holes in your lungs. You also left your back door (to the van) open.”

You’re one of the most giving, loving souls I’ve ever met. You love unconditionally, whether you’re spending time with your cousins or sharing your artistic gifts with us. I especially love the things you can do with Origami.

I love to snuggle with you on the couch as we watch “Star Wars,” “The Hobbit” or your favorite British comedy, “Keeping Up Appearances.”

I love to take you on road trips with the rest of the family, like the time we drove to Washington D.C. and got a tour of the West Wing of the White House. One of my favorite family photos is the one where we are in the press briefing room:

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As you’ve discovered by now, life can be hard. Learning to manage ADHD has been no picnic, but you’ve risen to the challenge. You study hard, take your grades to heart and got honor roll twice last year despite all the trouble you had staying focused.

ADHD hasn’t kept you back. It never will, because you won’t let it.

I can’t believe you are 10 years old. Where does the time go? I guess time flies for a Dad who is blessed with two precious boys like you and Sean.

Happy Birthday, precious boy!

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Sending Our Kids to Another School

After weeks of agonizing, debating, praying and researching, Erin and I made the painful but necessary decision to move the kids from the only school they’ve ever known to someplace new.

Mood music:

In three weeks, Sean and Duncan won’t be starting school at St. Joseph’s in Haverhill. Instead, they’re going to St. Augustine’s in Andover.

We love the St. Joe’s community and always will. But the bottom line is that both boys have extra needs the school simply isn’t equipped to provide. Sean needs more of an academic challenge in the next two years, as he sets his sights on getting into a prestigious, private high school. Duncan needs an environment better equipped to meet the needs of his IEP (Individualized Education Program). St. Joe’s has struggled to do what’s needed for a child with ADHD.

We’re excited to send them to St. Augustine’s, which has many more resources to meet those needs. But getting to that decision was hard. And telling the kids was even harder.

Like many parents, we instinctively want to shield our children from trauma. Few traumas are greater to kids than being sent to another school, particularly when they’ve been in the same place since pre-school. As expected, they were upset when we told them. There were tears and protests. We were emotionally spent by day’s end.

The next morning, we took them to the new school for admissions testing and a tour. We spent more than half the morning there, and by the time we were done, the kids were smiling. They still have their anxieties about the unknown. They are not jumping for joy, and they won’t be. But by the time we left, I think they knew this was for the best and that they were going to be just fine.

They know they’ll make new friends, and we’ve made it clear that we’ll help them stay connected to their St. Joe’s friends. Doing so won’t be difficult. We’re still parishioners of the school’s parent church, All Saints. Sean is still part of the church youth group and will see many of his friends there. And both boys are still Scouts, which will ensure another level of continuity.

In the final analysis playing it safe was unacceptable to us. Kids are going to have tough experiences in their lives and need to learn to roll with it. As parents, we have to give them our time and attention and help them stay on the right path. But we also must take occasional risks, upsetting the balance in the face of opportunity, teaching them to do the same.

And so we have.

The New School

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We’re All Lousy Parents. The Trick Is To Not Suck Too Much

I’ve had conversations with other parents recently that highlight a fear we all share: Despite our best efforts, we’ll scar our children anyway.

Most of us can point to examples of things our parents did to scar us for life, and we’re horrified to find ourselves doing the same things.

My father could be a brutal teaser and taskmaster when it came to things like yard work and working in the family warehouse. It always seemed like my best was never good enough. Even as a grownup, I would tell him about promotions and raises at work, and when I told him what I was earning, he’d deliver these stinging words: “That’s it?”

Dad also doesn’t have a verbal filter. If you put on weight, he’ll look at you, smile, and tell you you’re getting fat.

Yet here I am, teasing my kids all the time. And though I’ve historically been the parent most likely to let them get away with stuff, I’ve hardened my stance of late. I feel like I have to, because Sean is a tween with all the infuriating attributes. So I get on him about taking out the trash, picking his clothes off the floor and being a leader in his Boy Scout troop. Meanwhile, Duncan needs a lot of guidance and patience as a kid with ADHD. I often fall short because my OCD robs me of all patience.

See our resources section for sites parents and children will find helpful.

These things used to distress me. Like most moms and dads, I always swore I’d do better than my parents did. But the older I get, the more I realize I haven’t been entirely fair to my mom and dad.

They made their share of mistakes, but they did a lot right, too. With the help of excellent doctors, they kept me from dying of childhood illnesses. They got me through school and made my college education possible. My father has helped me out of more than a few financial jams. Yeah, bad things happened when I was a kid, but they were often things beyond my parents’ control. They tried to keep my older brother healthy, but he died anyway. They tried to keep their marriage together, but it wasn’t meant to be. The fighting around that divorce was vicious, but that’s what happens when a relationship decays. Some manage a divorce better than others, but there’s no instruction manual to help things along.

Some parents vow to quit drinking and smoking when a child comes along and often fail. But addiction is a powerful slave keeper. We vow not to cuss, but if I’m a fair example of the majority, the profanity creeps back before you know what hit you.

There are plenty of cases of parents carrying on like saints or demons, but most of us fall somewhere in the middle. We adore our children and drive ourselves to the brink of exhaustion providing for them. We show them a lot of love. But we have bad days, saying and doing things that end up in their mental time capsules, which are dug up in adulthood and analyzed for signs of trauma. Most of us have emotionally scarring back stories from childhood. The trick is to keep our shitty parenting to a minimum and get it right more often than not. Sadly, we have to wait until they grow up to see how it all worked out.

How to Traumatize Your Child book

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Me, Duncan and December-itis

I’ve had a lot to say lately about my own efforts to manage winter’s depressive effect on my brain, but this is also a challenging month for my younger son, Duncan.

Mood music:

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I’ve written at length about Duncan and my struggle to help him when his ADHD comes crashing into my OCD. I’m proud of who he’s becoming. But no matter how much progress father and son make on our mental health, December may well remain the month that throws us for a loop.

I feel like I’m having an easier time of it this year. I have depression, but it’s just the tired, memory-challenged kind. So far I’ve mostly escaped the feelings of sadness and outward crankiness of past years. Yesterday I visited the nurse who manages my medication and she doubled my Wellbutrin intake for the winter.

Now it appears to be Duncan’s turn for such an adjustment. His teacher has been praising his behavior all fall but, like clockwork, he started experiencing difficulty in class as the calendar switched to December. We’re hearing about the usual winter outbursts. He’ll argue with classmates, his temper comes to a boil easily and so on.

It kills me every year when this happens, because I know he inherited his mental health challenges from me and my side of the family. It’s not his fault.

The good news is that we’re getting better at anticipating his behavioral changes and responding faster. This afternoon I’m taking him to an appointment where his medication might be adjusted. We’ve also been blessed with some outstanding, nurturing teachers. I was particularly fond of his first-grade teacher, who was there when Duncan first got his ADHD diagnosis. She worked closely with us to make adjustments in the classroom that helped immensely.

His teacher this year is another gem. She meets with us whenever we ask and keeps us informed of Duncan’s progress by email. When he started acting up a couple of weeks ago, she invited us to call her at home in the evening. Few teachers do that these days, and we’re grateful for it. Duncan also has terrific classmates who cheerfully help him stay organized. And when he has a mood swing, they’re patient with him. Impressive, when you consider they are all under the age 10.

I chalk it up to the loving environment of the school. The place is far from perfect, as I’ve noted before. But as time goes on, I’m more convinced he’s exactly where he should be.

The trick now is to get him — and his teacher and classmates — to the other side of winter in one piece.

Duncan and Bill

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Welcome Back, Mrs. Silva

I rushed to the kids’ school this afternoon for a parent-teacher meeting and saw the most excellent sight: Eileen Silva, back in the mix, helping her fellow teachers sort through the usual chaos of afternoon dismissal. The first-grade teacher missed all last year due to illness, but she’s back, and it’s like she never left.

Mood music:

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We Brenners love Mrs. Silva for many of the same reasons other parents and students do: She’s a kind, nurturing and patient soul. But she’s particularly special to us because of what she did for Duncan at a very critical stage of his life.

Duncan was in first grade when he was first diagnosed with ADHD, and we didn’t know where to begin when the pediatrician gave us a list of recommendations as thick as a small novel. We brought it to Mrs. Silva during one of our after-school meetings. Some teachers might be overwhelmed to read a big bulleted list of recommendations like that. Teachers have plenty on their plate just dealing with the normal challenges of running a class full of boisterous children. Throw in a few kids with special requirements, and I’m sure it can be too much to take at times. True, every teacher has a few students with extra needs. That’s part of the job. But I’ve seen some handle it better than others.

Mrs. Silva took the list and lit up. She was thrilled to have so many details to work with, and she incorporated it into Duncan’s work load with grit and grace.

From our perspective, we had a big ally in our corner and felt like we might actually be able to get Duncan what he needed after all. Since then we’ve had plenty of support from other teachers and administrators. Duncan has done a lot of hard work himself, and we’re very proud of him.

But Mrs. Silva gets a very special place in our hearts because she helped us get this steamroller moving.

When I was Duncan’s age, I was the student teachers’ nightmares are made of. I had a boulder-sized chip on my shoulder because of serious childhood illness and my parents’ less-than-amicable divorce.

I also had learning difficulties. I received special services like Duncan did, but back then misbehaving kids were more likely to be written off as damaged goods. Today, the better school districts have a more rigorous process in place to ensure kids don’t fall through the cracks.

That’s how it often seems from my perspective, anyway.

There were teachers along the way that I felt were in my corner, rooting for me to overcome my limitations. But none were like Mrs. Silva.

For most parents, the greatest wish is for their kids to have it better than they did. When it comes to Duncan having an ally to guide him through the early rough patches, I got my wish.

Thanks, Mrs. Silva, and welcome back.

Mrs. Silva

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New Section: Resources for Readers

Today we launch a new section with links to resources specializing in mental health issues, including children’s issues, faith, eating and relationships.

We’ll be building the section over time, adding new topics as we go. Today, we’re starting with resources for parents and children dealing with mental health issues.

Check out the new section here.

Since this blog was launched in December 2009, the full focus has been on the author’s personal experiences with mental illness and all the related adversity that goes with it. In May we relaunched the blog with a wider focus in mind. The Resources section is a huge part of that.

The perspective of one person is certainly useful, but the more online resources we can give you, the more helpful we will be.

We hope you find it helpful.

—Bill Brenner