Sure, you don’t want him to sit next to your kid in class. But there is a lot you don’t know about him too.
You’ve seen him in restaurants; he’s the loud one who rudely disrupts the other diners. On the first day of school, he’s the kid in your child’s class who you see spinning and wiggling and you think, Please let him not be sitting next to my child.
When you pass out your child’s birthday party invites, he’s the kid you’d just as soon not invite. At soccer practice, he’s the one on your child’s team who makes you think, Why do his parents even bother bringing him? At the grocery store, he’s the brat who makes you think, His parents need to learn to control their kid.
But there are some things you don’t know about that wild, unruly child…
You don’t know that from the time he was 2, his parents received daily notes home from preschool saying things like:
“During storytime, your child ran around the room instead of sitting on the carpet.”
“Your child was disruptive during naptime.”
“Your child did not finish any of his work today.”
You don’t know that when his worried mum first shared her concerns with her trusted friends and relatives, they said things like:
“That behavior is normal at his age.”
“All little boys are hyper!”
“It’s because he’s so smart — he’s just bored!”
You don’t know that at his preschool Christmas play, he was shoved all the way in the back where he would be less conspicuous, which meant his parents were unable to take a video of him. Not that he was doing anything worthy of recording as a family memory; instead of singing the songs that had been rehearsed ad nauseam, he jumped, squirmed, spun and made weird faces.
You don’t know that at his pre-kindergarten graduation, when he said his memorised line at the microphone better than any other child in his class, his mother burst into tears, not out of pride, but out of relief.
You don’t know that in kindergarten, he was threatened with expulsion because of his picking habit… when he absentmindedly picked at the waistband of the little girl sitting in front of him during carpet time and she screamed out that he was trying to look at her underwear. And his mother had to explain to him about private parts even though he had no concept of the idea, no clue that he’d done anything inappropriate.
You don’t know that the parents of that undisciplined little hooligan didn’t even believe “ADHD” was a real thing. They smugly thought it was an excuse made up by weak parents of unruly children, parents who were too lazy or stupid to stay in control.
You don’t know that his mother has bought, read and highlighted no fewer than 10 books, and not just ones about ADHD; books about parenting “strong-willed” children, books about discipline, books about love languages. (Maybe she just wasn’t giving him enough love and it was making him wild? Or maybe she could “cure” him with love?)