(Godan - 9) ADHD

Godan had been explaining to me how if someone bullied him he could ignore it if he'd had a good day, if it was just one thing, but if it had been going on all day he couldn't not lose his temper.

So I said that sounded perfectly normal; that he sounded perfectly normal.

He looked doubtful about that - in fact his eyebrows really went up a long way. Like I'd said he was really an alien or something.

"Ok," I said, "have you ever seen a teacher really lose their temper? Like really lose it?!"

He confirmed he'd seen such a thing.

"And what happened before? How did it get to that point?"

He explained that it happened when everyone kept on talking, or being noisy or whatever for a long time and it built up.

"There you go," I said. "That's what you just said. That's what happens to all of us. We get worn down by stuff and then we're not so able to cope."

He thought about it and then said,

"My temper used to be much worse, it was like really short. When I was younger, my cousin used to only have to say one thing and I'd snap. They thought I had ADHD and took me to see a doctor. But I didn't have ADHD." He paused, then added, "It turned out that it was my cousin who had it."

He didn't really understand why his words made me laugh so much, but he seemed to enjoy it.

(Mary - 10)

Mostly we would talk about her mum: the mum who didn't love her. The mum who never hugged her, or kissed her, or said nice stuff. Or treated her the same as her sister.

But today was different. Today she started by saying things between them had been better.

"I've been trying that thing you said, about not picking up the jumper." (I'd showed her a month or so before how you couldn't have a tug-of-war - i.e. an arguement - if only one person picked up the rope - we used her school jumper. I could still remember her hurt face as I said all I could think off to test her; to see if she'd stay strong and not to pick up the sleeve and pull. She'd stuck it out, she'd been brilliant - and I'd made sure she knew it too!)

"Yeah," she went on. "I just walk away when she starts, and then come back a bit later and ask if she's ok."

(I'm pretty sure I didn't suggest that bit!)

"So it's helping then?"

"Yeah."

"Good."

"Anyway, so I had my tests and..."

"Tests?"

"Yes, they were for.." (medical thing) "...and they were all ok. Nothing was wrong."

"Oh, ok, good."

"And my mum cried."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. And she said it was like my aunt - I'm not being funny but she's like really big - and my mum said it was like my aunt was on her head and someone had taken her off."

"Your mum said that when all your tests said you were ok it was like someone had taken someone really heavy off her head? Wow, so that sounds like she does love you. It sounds like she loves you a lot."

"Yeah. We were walking the other day and she said that her being cross and angry and stuff had nothing to do with her not loving me."

"Wow," I said.

"Yeah," she said.

A FEW WEEKS LATER...

"So how's things?"

Mary wrote in my pad. She likes to do that sometimes - answer in writing. She's not shy, or ever reluctant to talk - and getting her to go back to class can be a struggle. She just likes making a kind of story in single words on paper. I think it helps her 'see it' somehow.

She wrote: 'Better'.

"Ok, good. How have you done that? How have you made it better?"

She wrote again: 'Less arguments'. But then she looked up and said brightly, "There's been hugs and kisses too!"

"Oh, that's new, Great."

"Yeah," she said matter of factly, "I cry every time."

(Why the pink elephant)

I tend to say the Pink Elephant thing when talking to kids about being careful what thoughts and ideas they take for granted and make true but I don't actually keep saying it on purpose and didn’t notice I was doing it until I read what I’d written. But it does tend to pop into my head as a good example of what no one would actually believe in so I guess that's why.

As to where is came from:-

Many years ago I had a friend who, like many of my friends then as now, suffered to the point of despair from my somewhat childish sense of humour. One day, when out in her car, I’d asked her if she'd seen the life size pink elephant we'd just passed in the garden back around the last bend. She must have had enough at this point and decided to teach me a lesson and actually turn the car around and face me with my lie.

I guess it must have been something to do with a village fete (or her fate perhaps - Ha-ha), but I really had seen one: a life size pink elephant in the garden of the village post office. It just that it had been such a shock that by the time I said what was there, we'd rounded the corner. So as I’m sure you can imagine, she was not pleased to be wrong. The language when she realised that what she felt sure was a definite wind up, what could in no way be true, was there in front of her, very much as large as life. Staring at her like a great teacher from the world of the native american coyote joker, or court jester, was a huge pink elephant. You could almost feel it grinning.

And so started a tradition. I’d tell this story to people as a matter of course and when, sooner or later, she’d be introduced to them, they nearly always said, “Oh yeah, the pink elephant!”

It drove her crazy, but turned out to be pretty useful.

(Toby - 11) Pink Elephants

"...so if I told you there was a pink elephant walking across the grass behind you, would you believe me?"

He laughed, "No way!"

"Okay, so if I said you were the most stupidest kid I'd ever talked to, would you believe that?"

His face fell a bit, and he looked doubtful about saying 'no'.

"You see, it's really hard isn't it?"

"Yeah."

"So I'm going to say some stuff now and I want you to 'pink elephant' everything I say to you now, okay?"

"OK."

"Right, so.. you're the most stupid person I ever spoke to..." He faltered a bit so I nudged him with a whispered 'pink elephant'.

"Good. And none of your friends really like you."

A muttered pink elephant came back.

"And you're never gonna have any friends."

"Pink elephant." Slight smile.

"And you're not ever going to have a friends at secondary school."

"Pink elephant."

"And eventually you're gonna end up a lonely old git in a council flat surrounded by empty beer cans."

He laughed. "Pink elephant!" he said loudly.

I laughed too. "Very cool," I said, and held out my fist for him to pop with his.

He did and grinned.