So remember that Ignatz was diagnosed with ADHD? And how difficult that made school for him, and also for his teachers, and how unpleasant the whole thing was, with the therapist who basically concluded that it was all my fault and I should just shape the hell up and act more like a German mom and control every single thing he did, remember that? Yeah, that sucked.
And now here we are in Utrecht, and Ig’s going to a high school that is apparently one of the best in the country. His grades aren’t terrific, but they’re improving. He talks about other kids, seems to have a few friends, even if he doesn’t bring them home. He goes to parties. He says he’s fine, and school is fine. Mostly, though, I haven’t heard anything from his teachers about unusual problems or unfortunate behaviors. We’ve heard that this class is a bit on the noisy side, but nothing about our child specifically. The kids are busy and active and interrupt-y and the teachers just deal with it.
So apparently, we cured Ignatz by moving him to a country where talking out of turn is just something kids do, rather than a sign of mental illness. Which is awesome, because I always felt that it would be better to change stupid societally-defined notions of “normal” than to change my son to fit those definitions. Better, but harder. Huh. I guess it wasn’t so hard after all.
Song du jour of the day: Don’t Dream it’s Over, by Crowded House.