Social Work Confessions-Do What I Say and I'll do whatever I Want.

At a parent-teacher conference last week for my first grader, I heard the dreaded "T" word.  I knew it was coming and I was not near as prepared as I thought I would be. I cried.

First of all, it was not a traditional parent-teacher conference.  It was a parent-big sister-teacher-tutor-principal conference. Five people sitting at a tiny table to discuss what is best for my son. 

My baby. The son I never expected to have; The baby who challenged everything I knew about parenting and my faith after he crash-landed on this planet.  The baby who I have pulled off the roof, who my daughter has pulled out of the deep end of the pool; the baby who locked himself in a dryer and inside of a cooler.  The child, who as a result of having absolutely no fear, has lost a toe-nail and almost lost his penis.  My son.  The one I have sat beside in the hospital over and over  while I listened to him scream in pain, cry in fear, praying the rosary, singing him to sleep, questioning every decision I ever made, wondering if I do the right things for him.  Of course I cried. Life has been so hard for him.

It is no secret and I never deny that I have no objectivity where he is concerned. I want to clothe him in bubble wrap and never let anyone near him.

And now the school wants him TESTED.  This should not be that big of a deal.  I am a social worker.  I refer people for services ALL THE TIME.  I have told countless parents to have their children tested for a variety of mental health and education issues.  I encourage them to consider therapy and medication when it is appropriate.   But the first person who comes near my kid with an assessment form or a pill may get a punch to the face.  And I wonder why this is. 

Do I not trust my profession?  Do I not really believe in the services that are out there to help and heal children and their families?  Do I think the rules apply to everyone but my family?  Where does my hesitation stem from, I wonder.  Maybe because I understand there are exceptions to all the rules.  That the DSM is not an exact science.  If you see my son on a good day, you would wonder what all the fuss is about.  If you see him on a bad day, you might wonder kind of parent am I.  I don't want him to become part of a system that I believe is broken.  I am scared of the labels that I, myself, place on other people's children.  I want to protect him from all of the "experts" who are in line, waiting to judge his abilities and his intentions.  I am so close to these systems that I only see the negative.  I have no idea how testing (gag, vomit) is going to help him in a private school classroom.  I can't even bring myself to make the first phone call.