Yesterday I had the joy of eating lunch with my grandsons at their elementary school. My younger one, Parks is a kindergartener. Usually, he brightens when he sees me waiting in front of the cafeteria but yesterday he gave a quick wave and there was barely a trace of a smile. When his teacher led the line of students passed me, she said, “He had a little bit of difficulty at recess — but I think he’s okay now.” My daughter-in-law, Emily had shared with me that for the first time he’s been having some behavioral issues at school. I remembered from my twenty years as a school nurse that new behaviors can crop up at any time–especially when a child is going through changes. As they grow and become more aware of the world around them there’s a lot to navigate. Each child has a unique personality, temperament and way of dealing with what comes at him.

I waited for Parks to go through the line and choose what he wanted. He led the way to his table and pointed to where I could sit. There weren’t two seats together so I sat between two boys in his class. The kids at the table were talking all at one time.

One boy asked, “Do you remember me? I was Parks’s field trip partner.”

We’d gone to an apple orchard back in October.

“I sure do,” I said. “You and Parks climbed to the top of that storage building.” It wasn’t a climb-on structure but they’d managed to scale the rough-hewn walls before I could say “Don’t.”

I could barely keep up with their questions, and ended up smiling and nodding when I either couldn’t hear due to all the noise or because of their soft voices. The boy from the field trip sat across from me and said something they thought was funny, all laughing with mouths wide open, especially the boy to my left.

“He’s got a gold tooth,” the field trip boy pointed out. They all nodded in agreement and the boy to my left smiled and pointed to a shiny filling.

Soon it was time for them to finish and their Teacher’s Assistant pushed the trash can down the row. They were quick to clean their spaces. The Teacher’s Assistant leaned over to speak to me. I remembered her from the field trip.

“I want you to know how kind Parks is to him,” she said, and nodded her head toward the boy with the gold tooth. “He’s often hesitant to speak in class and Parks helps him.”

How nice that she took the time to point out Parks’s caring behavior. Before he left, I gave him a hug and told him I loved him. He didn’t say anything but I knew he heard me. I wanted to support him and hoped a hug and a word from his Grammy would help him through his day.

Soon after, my second grade grandson, Baker’s class came down the hall. How big they grew in just two grades! He smiled and came over to me and gave me a sideways hug. I sat beside him and watched him talking across to his classmates, especially some of those on his baseball team. How focused their conversations–when they had their next game, what they were doing after school etc.

“I’m looking forward to your baseball game today,” I told Baker.

He had a slight grin and said, “I want to hit a home run.”

“I believe you will,” I told him. I’d been amazed at his growth as a player since the previous season. I didn’t play a sport at such a young age — and barely when I was older. There weren’t many opportunities for girls back in the 60’s.

I remembered when I was in second grade. There was a girl in my class, Alma who was poor. Back then children looked poor. She was thin and in the winter wore summer dresses and no leotards to cover her bare legs. I don’t remember there being Thrift Stores where you could purchase cheaper clothing and we had no School Social Workers to find resources for needy students. I felt sorry for Alma because she wasn’t included in our playground games. I remember staying back at recess one day to keep her company, doing things for the teacher. I was confused by my deep sadness watching Alma. In later years, I’d feel sad about going off to play at a friend’s house and not leaving enough food for my dog. Or sad when I realized Santa’s true identity and hadn’t been totally happy with a gift.

In 9th grade, my English teacher’s comment on a writing assignment helped me begin to realize why those things impacted me so deeply. She wrote “a sensitive response.” Truthfully, I had to look that word up 🙂 That wasn’t a label my family or earlier teachers had ever used. Old people may refer to a child being “nervous” but never did they use the word “sensitive.”

It was some relief to know “what was wrong with me.” Over the years, through life experience, college courses, and working in mental health nursing, I became aware of differences in personality, temperament, DNA, upbringing, culture etc.. At one point, a woman I was working with said she thought I was a lot like her, an “HSP.” I hadn’t heard that term. I discovered that in 1996, Dr. Elaine Aron and her husband developed the concept of the Highly Sensitive Person (HSP). It was a way of explaining why certain people process information more deeply, are highly empathetic, and become easily overstimulated. (per Wikipedia) I took the self-assessment and found that many of the items rang true.

I’d forgotten about that discovery of HSP profiles until I was talking with a friend this week. We were sharing about our grandsons. I told her how expressive, funny, and easily shamed Parks can be and about his recent incidents at school.

“Maybe he’s an HSP,” she said. We had never talked about that subject. She shared that she’d been that way since she was a girl. I told her I’d been labeled an HSP by another adult — and looking back, I saw some of that, remembering Alma in the second grade.

Yesterday afternoon, I went to Baker’s ballgame. Parks wasn’t happy when he learned his uncle wouldn’t be there. I couldn’t make the situation better. I’d give him space to deal with it and let him come to me when he was ready. He would figure things out, eventually.

Meanwhile, Baker hit that home run and after he crossed home plate he did a victory leap–something I hadn’t seen before–him being the more reserved grandson. How happy he was when his teammates ran out of the dugout and congratulated him, tapping his helmet and cheering.

What a memory he’ll have from second grade.

Reference

https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/tests/personality/highly-sensitive-person-test