I have spent my adult life a registered democrat. But am I really? Do all my ideas really fall into that category? The answer is absolutely not. Fear not young padawan, I have not joined the dark side. There are other labels that more appropriately describe aspects of my political profile. On many issues I am considered Progressive, but every once in a while a have a mean Libertarian streak. Hell, some of my ideas are pretty far left, maybe I should carry the label or radical, extremist, or even Socialist. Better yet, I think I will abandon all political ties and align myself with the new and ever-popular Coffee Party. If the Tea Party can do it, why can't I?
Now Emmett, who has not yet declared a political alliance, is also dodging the labeling movement. Emmett is brilliant, but his gifted intelligence is flanked in sensitivity and a unique thought process. Couple that with the fact that he is a 6 year old boy, and welcome to chaos. Emmett lives in his mind and imagination, often distracted by his own thoughts, he is disorganized and speaks out of turn. He is sensitive in mind and body. He hates loud noises but is overwhelmed by silence. He does not do well in extreme temperatures, and his skin reacts to almost everything it touches. Songs with minor key chords make him cry. And he cries a lot. He feels all his emotions intensely and they almost always manifest in heartfelt tears. All of this makes being a 6 year old boy in public school very challenging, for him and I am sure at times for his teacher and classmates. Last week he was removed from the classroom 4 times in 3 days for inability to regain self-control and follow the rules. With the dawn of inclusion, schools have strived to make every student a part of the classroom, which I believe benefits everyone as long as it is not at the price of individual needs. Inclusion was implemented to stop stigmatization and segregation and embrace and utilize diversity. So why did my little man spend the first half of last week isolated, in another classroom feeling like a "bad kid?" Because the fine print of inclusion requires a label. If he was diagnosed with ADD or Autism (both have which have been brought up) he would have a diagnosis, an IEP and would remain in the classroom. No don't get me wrong, I will do whatever it takes to help my son and if he needs to be labeled and have an IEP, than that is what we will do. But he is six years old and this label will follow him for the rest of his life. That is heavy. Maybe Emmett does have ADD or is on the autism spectrum, but maybe he is just a gifted 6 year old boy, and has not reconciled the discrepancy between his intellectual and social abilities. Maybe I too, would have a hard time focusing and behaving if I could do division and fractions, and my math class was mastering counting to 9.
The truth is that labels themselves are a paradox. We need them to feel safe, precise and productive, but like many good things, they can be used for ill will. Stereotyping, stigmatization, discrimination. At therapy last week Amy asked me a direct question. "Meghan, are you dissociating again?" I looked at her and felt compelled to answer, but in the air of toxic repercussions, could not allow the response to escape my lips. I left Massachusetts in part to evade my past, start over, define a new me. I don't want to live in the shadows of mental illness branded by diagnostic criteria. PTSD, trauma, depression, anorexia. Broken. As a nurse I know how the world views "people like me." I see my colleagues reading charts before returning calls to sick patients, some actually saying out loud, "she has PTSD, it's probably in her head." And I say nothing. Sometimes I even agree. I am part of the stigmatization of myself, my friends. Here lies another paradox.
"Yes, I'm dissociating again. I need help." Next time I'll speak up to that colleague.
Now Emmett, who has not yet declared a political alliance, is also dodging the labeling movement. Emmett is brilliant, but his gifted intelligence is flanked in sensitivity and a unique thought process. Couple that with the fact that he is a 6 year old boy, and welcome to chaos. Emmett lives in his mind and imagination, often distracted by his own thoughts, he is disorganized and speaks out of turn. He is sensitive in mind and body. He hates loud noises but is overwhelmed by silence. He does not do well in extreme temperatures, and his skin reacts to almost everything it touches. Songs with minor key chords make him cry. And he cries a lot. He feels all his emotions intensely and they almost always manifest in heartfelt tears. All of this makes being a 6 year old boy in public school very challenging, for him and I am sure at times for his teacher and classmates. Last week he was removed from the classroom 4 times in 3 days for inability to regain self-control and follow the rules. With the dawn of inclusion, schools have strived to make every student a part of the classroom, which I believe benefits everyone as long as it is not at the price of individual needs. Inclusion was implemented to stop stigmatization and segregation and embrace and utilize diversity. So why did my little man spend the first half of last week isolated, in another classroom feeling like a "bad kid?" Because the fine print of inclusion requires a label. If he was diagnosed with ADD or Autism (both have which have been brought up) he would have a diagnosis, an IEP and would remain in the classroom. No don't get me wrong, I will do whatever it takes to help my son and if he needs to be labeled and have an IEP, than that is what we will do. But he is six years old and this label will follow him for the rest of his life. That is heavy. Maybe Emmett does have ADD or is on the autism spectrum, but maybe he is just a gifted 6 year old boy, and has not reconciled the discrepancy between his intellectual and social abilities. Maybe I too, would have a hard time focusing and behaving if I could do division and fractions, and my math class was mastering counting to 9.
The truth is that labels themselves are a paradox. We need them to feel safe, precise and productive, but like many good things, they can be used for ill will. Stereotyping, stigmatization, discrimination. At therapy last week Amy asked me a direct question. "Meghan, are you dissociating again?" I looked at her and felt compelled to answer, but in the air of toxic repercussions, could not allow the response to escape my lips. I left Massachusetts in part to evade my past, start over, define a new me. I don't want to live in the shadows of mental illness branded by diagnostic criteria. PTSD, trauma, depression, anorexia. Broken. As a nurse I know how the world views "people like me." I see my colleagues reading charts before returning calls to sick patients, some actually saying out loud, "she has PTSD, it's probably in her head." And I say nothing. Sometimes I even agree. I am part of the stigmatization of myself, my friends. Here lies another paradox.
"Yes, I'm dissociating again. I need help." Next time I'll speak up to that colleague.
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