Bookworm and Quirky - Different in Amazing Ways

Last Saturday was a day sans our “kulilit” (Gabee) because she had school to make up for class suspensions. It was Garrett’s schedule with his developmental-behavioral pediatrician whose clinic is a two-hour drive from our place. Garrett had us all to himself from the afternoon until the next morning. While I got almost teary-eyed while placing our orders at a nice restaurant we went to for dinner without Gabee, it felt okay just to have Garrett that night. It was quiet, and Garrett enjoyed our undivided attention. I resolved that Gabee would have her chance, too, to have me and her dad just to herself. I feel it’s a good arrangement to take out each of them separately on a few occasions. At their ages, they still tend to outdo, outtalk, and outsmart each other.

We have been open that Garrett has ADHD which explains his talkativeness. Being labeled with ADHD does not make him any less. He is a bright and charming boy with or without it. In fact, I think it is his nature to be compulsive about acquiring all kinds of information. He is a bookworm in the full sense of the word: a person unusually devoted to reading and study; a bookworm who prefers reading to just about any other activity (Merriam-Webster). He craves to read. And his interests run a spectrum, from fairy tales, G. Stilton, H. Potter, planets, business, medicine, cookery, to everything else, even showbusiness! He’s bound to read whatever he gets his hands on. The quirkiness manifests itself in his impulsivity to talk, to share what he has read. He blabbers, unmindful sometimes if he is being listened to. He goes on and on. But, he is improving, having better control, and taking cues from his audience.

We were all delighted when he started “really” talking when he turned three. He impressed the principal at the interview for admission into first grade with his questions about cockroaches. He unknowingly turned the tables and ended up asking the principal “did-you-know” questions. The principal sensed a problem in terms of his focus and keeping to the direction of the conversation, but acquiesced that the school’s strong science program would suit this inquisitive boy.

That inquisitive six-year-old boy will turn 11 this month. In those five years, I am certain he has read more than what I have read in my full 38 years. No kidding. He reads everyday. He reads while he buttons his shirt. And then he dreams about what he has read. He smiles, laughs by himself as he conjures up images of Roald Dahl’s funny characters in his mind. He must have scoured the library collection at his school already. Since first grade, that has been his haven, the place where fetchers and teachers would find him.

My little boy is fast becoming a man. It scares me, yes. I hope the scientific in him would douche the fantasies running in his head. May his interest in Bloomberg Businessweek rub some good business sense into him, and his love for Mabuhay magazine get him to places I can only dream of going to.

I believe my boy can be whatever he chooses to become. I try and encourage him to know his purpose, to have a goal, for, I tell him, if he doesn’t have one, every little thing he does would always feel like a task, like getting out of bed in the morning. I am not sure whether I should be prodding him early on. He is a kind and smart boy, and he has it in him to reach his dreams and help others.

My Boy

*Shared via fb Feb 13, 2013.

We would have a bigger problem had he not learned to talk. So said my husband amidst my worries and panic over a call from Garrett's school asking that we come to discuss Garrett's behavior. The call came 2 weeks after I had a 1-hr talk with the teacher-in-charge who told me that Garrett needs to improve his self-control. Teachers apparently have raised a common concern that Garrett has gotten the habit of correcting teachers in class for small grammar slip-ups in a manner perceived to be discourteous. Garrett, he said, would also tend to ask irrelevant questions and blurt out his questions without first being acknowledged or given permission to ask. 

True, we are at fault. I am at fault. We allowed Garrett to talk as much as he wanted when he started talking. We were relieved and in fact overjoyed and so thankful when Garrett started talking, from a few words I could count with my fingers when he was 2 to phrases and short sentences when he was 3 and about to start nursery. He was different as a baby and a toddler, and developed at a slower pace with speech, walking, and potty training. He could not grasp abstract concepts easily and was not into physical games or even toys. As a little child, he was fixated on large billboards along the highways, water fountains, and the pool, and he spent a lot of time staring blankly at nothing but seemingly in deep thought. He would stare at a water fountain standing, and not want to leave. He would run in the mall or at the park and not bother if somebody was watching him, with no fear that he might get lost. He would talk and not take cues that the other person needed to talk as well. Development doctors who saw him observed that his attention span was very short. 

Garrett is now 10, at an age when people expect him to conform and conduct himself in a socially acceptable behavior. Garrett is still much of the little boy he was. The only difference now is that he talks incessantly and reads voraciously. He still has much to learn in social graces. In one essay, Garrett wrote that he is excited about summer because he can be the person he is and not someone else he is trained to be at school. He is having difficulty reconciling the world in his mind and the world he actually lives in. I am all ears for him, but, at this point he needs to understand that conversations are two-way, that teachers teach and students listen, and that questions and opinions are oftentimes better kept to one’s self. I hope we can guide and teach him without stifling or changing him. I know my boy. His heart is kind, his ways simple, and to him things ought to be in black and white. His mind can not find rest when things can not be explained as such or when gray areas exist. 

Mulling on white space amidst greens

White space. How do I start filling it? What does inspire me to write, here, right now? Let’s see.

I hear children’s noise. It’s 3:47 pm. I am inside the car, parked outside Garrett’s school. With the car windows rolled down, I hear as well birds and crickets in chorus, and feel the soft breeze on my face. The school is on top of a hill, situated in a nice (posh) subdivision in Antipolo. Big, old trees line the roads. I see green everywhere. I think I have found my spot, a perfect spot to mull things over and write.

It’s easy to write about Garrett. Well, because he’s special in many ways. I had a conference with his class adviser last week. His teacher remarked that Garrett is the type of student that makes a solid impression on the teacher, the kind that when she’s old, she’d still be able to recall and say, “Yeah, that’s Garrett. He was my student.”

Oh, well, this again is becoming about Garrett. I have been meaning to write about Gabee, my daughter. True that it was because of Garrett that I decided finally to give up work. On hindsight, it had been already a year or so since my husband and I started discussing about the scenario where I’d take a few years off from work while the kids are growing. The option that we shift to the traditional family set-up scared me. I was scared (rightly so) to give up a career which affords me leverage in almost everything. I was earning and had all kinds of insurance. I could raise my kids in the event that the marriage falls apart. Ego. I think I had a bloated one. ☺

But the decision to quit came swiftly when we learned that Garrett has ADHD, and has to be put on medication. I acquiesced that I had to give up the work that I was holding on to more for my own sake. It was not as difficult as I had anticipated quitting would be. I think it’s because it was made for the right reasons. Family comes first.

Below is Garrett's photo taken recently. He is growing fast. Moving forward into puberty, I intend to be by his side, all ears for him, looking upon him up close and from afar as he needs me.