“IMPULSIVE WITHOUT EMPATHY”… that’s what we were told. AJ was not even four years old and a very reputable local preschool teacher told us, “He is impulsive without empathy.”

That’s it. She didn’t tell us he was smart. She didn’t see that he was strong. She didn’t mention that he was creative and kind and incredibly athletic or inquisitive or respectful. She gave him a label and that was all she could see.

As a former Assistant Principal and twenty-one year educator, I’ve been on that side of the table, having that “Come to Jesus” moment with parents about their child. But that day, as a parent, I was crushed. I cried. I couldn’t even talk. I remember that moment like it was yesterday, and it still kills me.

From the moment he was born, he was active. The day he learned to crawl, he crawled to the side of his crib and pulled himself up to stand. Within a week of walking, he was running. That’s AJ! High energy AJ.

When he started preschool at 2.5 years old, we could see his differences. His first teachers were amazing and really taught him to listen to his heart, to feel it beat with his hands, and wait until it was calm to engage in activities with the class. They were angels with more patience than I’ve ever seen. Then we moved and switched schools.

His second preschool is where we were told “Impulsive without empathy”. We left after two months.

At his third preschool, the teachers saw all of his gifts and also the areas of struggle. They recognized it all. Those teachers guided US in the right direction as parents. We needed help. We needed help to understand AJ and all that he needed to be successful in a world not built for kids like him. To have success in schools not structured for kids like him. He was still only three, and we already needed help.

When he was four he was assessed with a local school district. They recognized his impulsiveness, but said it was within the normal range and to not worry about it. We still needed help. We started occupational therapy for Sensory Processing Disorder.

As an experienced educator, I though I had heard of every acronym, but SPD was all new to me. AJ is what we call a seeker. His body craves stimulation. He needs hugs. He wears clothes tight, likes to be warm, and prefers his hood up. He can jump and spin for forever and never get dizzy. He also gets easily overstimulated. I can’t take him to Costco or Target or the grocery store where everything is new. He wants to touch and can’t control that urge, even with a million reminders. He zones out easily. He gets so zoned into a movie or game that he tunes out everything in the world around him. Even the softest voice can startle him and his response is a snap or growl or shout. Always!

At five years old, we sought for more help and more answers. A developmental pediatric team assessed him again and determined that he has ADHD, both hyperactive and inattentive type. We finally had an answer… but really it was just another label. It was just the beginning.

AJ is the most incredible kid, but he is also unique and special and needs more than many others. He is impulsive. He yells. He hits. He snaps. He asks for hugs. He needs to move. He needs to feel pressure on his body. He needs lots of sensory stimulation on his body to have a calm brain. He is brilliant, but needs constant reminders to stay focused enough to show us his brilliance.

Why am I sharing this? Today was a hard day. I mean a really hard day. On Wednesdays it’s just him and me. I teach 5th grade through Distance Learning and then try to get him caught up on his 1st grade schoolwork on my breaks. I’m a very efficient person. AJ is not. Today he accomplished next to nothing during his live sessions with his teacher because he was working solo. Playing with cars and jumping on the bed was more interesting than following along in class. He needs a million reminders of what to do and to stay on track. Solo work days just don’t go very well.

We don’t speak the same language… until we do. I ask. He doesn’t hear me. I ask again. He plays with a toy. I ask again. He does not do what I ask. I yell. He yells. He hits. I block. He cries. My heart sinks with shame. He hangs his head in frustration and shame. He needs more hugs. He focuses for a few minutes. Then it all starts again. All day long. Today I can’t even tell you how many times this cycle occurred. All… day… long.

But then, when the day was done, he was different. His shower is always calming (lots of sensory stimulation) and it’s warm and all other noise is tuned out. It’s his happy place. (This is also why surfing is the perfect sport for him… lots of stimulation, tight wetsuit, and calming at the same time.)

After his shower, he asked for a hug. A big wet hug straight out of the shower. Then into his room. Clothes on. Well, he jumped on the bed while I attempted to put on his pajamas. Another hug. This time he sort of tackled me and we just laid there, holding each other, tight! We talked about the day. I apologized. He apologized. I said I would try harder tomorrow and he said he would try harder tomorrow.

I tried to wiggle out of his hug, but he wouldn’t let me go. He just hugged tighter, as he usually does. I said “I have to go take the trash cans to the curb,” and then offered to do it for me! He then asked if I had dishes to do in the kitchen. He told me, “Mom, you should go to bed and get some rest. You don’t have to do all those things. I can do them in the morning for you. You going to sleep is important too! Go straight to bed!”

In his happy, quiet, calm space, he was the most empathetic boy ever. He cares so deeply and wants to help and please in so many ways. If he sees me hurting or struggling, he is the first to offer a hug or to help. He notices everything, a tear, a crack in my voice, and change in my mood. He pulls every heart-string, everyday, in every way, but those words, “Impulsive without Empathy” are just not AJ.