"What are teachers for?" asked my son.
"What do you think they're for?" I replied.
"Teachers are people who tell you things you already know," he told me.
"Not anymore," I assured him.
He is finally in a class with kids like himself. The kids in his class are ages five to seven, and all have IQs between 140 and 180. Alex is at the lower end, which should be interesting for him.
It was very sweet before school yesterday, actually. We waited with Alex for class to start, and a little girl stood next to us with her mom. The mother and I made eye contact, smiled, introduced ourselves and then our kids. Both Alex and the girl seemed unhappy to be there.
"I want to go home," said the little girl. "I want to play video games."
The mom looked embarrassed, until I said, "I don't believe it! That's exactly what mine just said."
The kids spoke of their favorite games. A connection was made. I am hoping it continues this way.
Anyway, it's hard to let go of the knot of dread in my gut. When you have a special needs kid, you become conditioned to fear school. I've talked to Amy Price, the director of SENG, about this. She goes through it, too. Every fall, while everyone else gets excited about school clothes and supplies, we get scared of the phone calls that are sure to come, about "behavioral problems."
That said, I wanted to share with you an email we sent to Alex's teacher last night, the first of many, we assume.
Hello! We are Alisa and Patrick, parents to Alexander Rodriguez. We've just helped him complete his assignment for the "all about me" bag - what a lovely idea! I can tell this is going to be a great class.
We wanted to let you know about a new habit of Alexander's, that might make it easier to understand what he's talking about when he presents his bag to the class. Lately, he has taken to re-naming nearly every neighborhood, city and state in his universe, in the style of the cities and towns in the game Pokemon (which he plays obsessively). In the bag, he included two maps - one detailing the car trip we took from Albuquerque to Scottsdale when we moved here two months ago, and another detailing his grandparents' neighborhood in Albuquerque. None of them bear their real names.
For instance, Alex calls his grandma Rodriguez's Albuquerque neighborhood "Smile City," because everyone is always happy there. He calls the park near our new home "Grass World," and another nearby park "Moon-a-dome City"; yet another nearby park is called "Flat City." There are literally dozens of these new names. He remembers them all. (We don't...) He might give you a hint as to their real names, but it is unlikely he will simply explain to you what he's doing. Alex, for the record, seems to prefer speaking in riddles to making statements of fact. (Ex: "Mom, I'm thinking of something I'd like for a snack, it is crunchier than a raisin but softer than an apple...")
For what it's worth, he has created all his own Pokemon, too. (Animal-like creatures with special skills.) There is "Torino," who is "the evolved form of 'Bornio,'" Etc. When introducing these animals, he will imitate a "Poke-Dex" computer from the Pokemon TV show, making his voice intentionally robotic. (Ex: "Torino. The Torino is a rock-type Pokemon found in parks. It can grow to be very tall. It has learned crush moves," all recited monotone. To the uninitiated, Alexander imitating a computer might sound like a child with Asperger's Syndrome, just FYI. It is intentional on his part. He is "acting".
As we drove from NM to AZ this weekend, after visiting family, he decided the Mogollon Rim was "Sinister Forest" and that it had "Seventeen Levels". Etc.
We wanted to mention all of this as a way of providing sort of a Rosetta Stone of Alexander-Speak for you. Once one understands the strange poetry of what he is doing, it all makes sense. Otherwise, he can seem, well, odd. It is amazing and exhausting at the same time, and one wonders if he might grow up to write the next Harry Potter series. After all, this is a kid who, when he was four, grew tired of spelling words the usual way, and created a code alphabet in which A became D, etc. He spoke this way, spontaneously respelling everything that came out of his mouth, and most people thought it to be jibberish. It was impossible to know what he was saying until you wrote it out, and coded it. He did it all in his head.
Welcome to "Paratoli Town," Alexander's Scottsdale, populated by imaginary creatures with fabulous names. Hope you like the view. :-)
All best,
The Rodriguez Family
PS - We hope it does not bother you if we shoot you this sort of info from time to time. We think it will help make teaching our son a little bit easier.
PPS - Alex might blurt out that "Pokemon is stupid," in class; it is not his real feeling. He does this as a preemptive strike against anyone who might say that his favorite thing is stupid, which happened at his last school and nearly destroyed his spirit. He is actually testing the crowd, to see if anyone will believe Pokemon is stupid. In truth, he loves Pokemon. He speaks in riddles, and practices reverse psychology; and he's six. (Dear Lord, where will he be when he's twelve?) :-)
Alisa, it is scary how much my daughter is like your son...only in varying degrees. She did the coded alphabet, too. The renaming of things. The speaking in riddles. Drove me mad. She did grow out of that one, if it makes you feel better.