|
The Funny Side (And Expensive Side) Of Attention Deficit Disorder |
|
Written by Jim Fulton
|
I have a terrific kid. He is growing into the type of man his
mother and I can be proud of. He's learning how to "step up to
the plate" when he is called upon. He's now attending computer
classes at ITT in San Bernardino. We're home schooled him the remainder
of his high school years due in part to some problems that arose with
the school district he last attended. I'm not saying that the
public education system isn't good enough; I'm just saying it did not
meet the demands that my kid's learning disability placed on it.
My son, my sweetheart, has Attention Deficit Disorder.
One of my mottos is, "tragedies best become comedies," and with ADD in
the house, this motto is true to form. He was diagnosed when he
was seven. He has always been sharp as a tack and is quite
articulate for his age through out his educational career. For an
example: When he has taken the SAT's, he has always tested well above
the norm for his grade in reading and comprehension skills. I'm talking
college level here (I ain't proud!)
When asked to describe him, I used the analogy of Wile E. Coyote and
Pinky and the Brain. Why? They both come up with some ingenious
ideas, only they don't think through to the consequences. That's my son!
Like I said before, he's a good kid with a lot going for him. He
has taken to computers like a longhaired cat to a black velvet
dress. That's why he's in ITT and not a four-year college. We
have taught him to go with his strongest talent and he is. If we didn't
have to remind him about his schoolwork or his chores around the house,
he would be on his computer 24/7.
Nevertheless, this "disorder" that had plague my son throughout his life has lead to some funny (now) and expensive lessons.
One year when he was 9 or 10, he "helped" me paint his room. ADD
struck again! After we were through for the day, I showed him how
to clean up the paint. Since we were using a latex paint, I told
him to wash the rollers off in the kitchen sink. When I walked
in, I didn't realize that we had painted the kitchen, too. There
was paint all over the walls, cabinets, ceiling, and stove -
everywhere. I asked him how he got it everywhere. He told
me "I went to shake the roller off. "
"How did you shake the roller off?" I asked.
"Like this" He then proceeded to raise the roller, which still had
paint in it, in a full half circle. I saw a blue arc fly from the
roller to everywhere it landed before.
"Stop, stop, stop! I see where I went wrong at!" I went
over, took the roller away before either of us were painted, and showed
him again how to clean the roller. This time I shook the roller.
Then there was the time when he was home from his first semester break
of his freshman year in high school. My wife, Judy and I had already
left for work. We left the heater on since it was the latter part of
February and we wanted our son to wake up to a nice warm house. When
Jared got up, he was hot. Now Jared being the bright kid that he is,
had three options to cool down the house. The options were: A) opening
a window, B) turn off the heater and open up a window, or C) use the
ten year old freezer as an air conditioner to cool off the house.
He chose C. I found this out when I went to get some ice for a
well deserve coke (I'm not a drinking man) after a hard day at work.
When I went to the fridge to get ice for the well deserve soda, the ice
had melted in the ice trays. I asked, to no one in particular, if
someone had just put water in the trays. I thought for sure I
filled the trays the previous night.
"No," Judy replied, "Jared left the freezer door open. "
"How long?" I asked.
"He doesn't remember. Why?"
"It was long enough to melt ice."
"That's not good," Judy said.
"The refrigerator may be broken."
"Can you fix it?" (Judy has a lot of faith in her man)
"No. We probably need a new one."
Sure enough, the fridge gave up the ghost the next day.
He has since learned to cool off a house, he needs to open a window and turn off the heater.
Like I said before, he's a great kid, who has turned into a fine young
man, his mother and I can be proud of. Now if only he could clean
his room...
But that's another story in and of itself.
|
