Psychomotoriktherapie für Alex

It's no fun saying goodbye, but that's what we had to do early this morning. Grandma and Grandpa left for the airport just after the kids woke up from school.  Ella and Alex were awfully quiet after that, and Alex, who so enjoyed taking a grandparent to school with him each morning, asked me if I could walk him to his classroom.

I was happy to, particularly since Alex's teacher cornered Joani yesterday and told her to please explain to me that Alex has been coughing since January and that he needs to go to the doctor. 

But neither Dennis nor I, nor Dan or Joani, either, have ever noticed Alex coughing: Joani suspected it might be a nervous tic that pops up at school. So I walked Alex to school this morning and tried to convey this all to his teacher, explaining that he doesn't cough at home. But she stared me down, and, once I finally stopped talking, told me, no. I was wrong. Alex probably has asthma. He must go to a doctor. Jetzt.

I know this teacher surely has good intentions, but she's just so abrupt. She makes me nervous, and even the unflappable Grandma Joani, who was a principal for umteen years, was a little taken aback by her.  I can only guess what effect she might have on shy Alex.

Plus, I'm we're already in the thick of dealing with another of her diagnoses.  Several weeks back, a physical therapist came to the school and did an assessment on the children, and Frau Simmen told the doctor that she had concerns, particularly, about Alex.  He didn't hold his pencil correctly, you see.  So the doctor had Alex go through some exercises, and noticed that he seemed a little awkward, and so he was referred to the school services for a more thorough testing session.

And that finally happened today. Dennis came home after lunch, and, after he walked Ella to school, the four of us took Alex to meet with the therapist.

Incidentally, when Dennis dropped Ella off, he asked her teacher about this spelling test that has Ella in fits. Apparently, the rest of the class studies cursive while Ella is off on a German tutoring session. Well, that explains a lot.  So the teacher told Ella that, of course, she could print her spelling test instead...and suddenly everything seemed better.

Joey had a fine time, too, in a waiting room stuffed with toys.

Alex's assessment was in the second story of one of the other neighborhood school houses.  There was a large, sunny gym, filled with climbing bars and mats and large blocks and scooters and all kinds of very appealing things.  And the doctor, a mother herself, was quiet and kind, and she spoke beautiful English to Alex.

And he, happily, stood on one foot and drew squiggly lines and tossed beanbags and put coins in a piggy bank and, whenever the teacher gave him a break to write her notes, dashed to the top of the climbing gym, agile as any monkey.  It seemed pretty clear that Alex was doing okay.

The therapist didn't like doing consultations in front of the kids, but she did pay us the nicest compliment on how attentive and how eager to please and loving Alex seemed. And she's right: he's a sweet, sweet kid. She also suggested that she thought Alex might have been brought to her because he was nervous during his classroom assessment and didn't understand the instructions.  Again, not so surprising.


It doesn't seem likely to me that Alex will qualify for any kind of services through this program (Dennis is going in for the consultation on Monday morning to here her verdict) but a largish part of me hopes that he didn't pass the test.  He enjoyed the session so much: he loved playing games and coloring, but especially speaking, in English, with a gentle teacher.  I would consider it emotional therapy.

Ella had a wonderful morning as well: in music class today, when her class was singing Frère Jacques, Ella raised her hand and mentioned that she knew the words to the song in English as well.  The teacher asked her to sing for the class, and after Ella did, asked if Ella would be willing to sing in a solo for the class concert. 

Oh, Ella was over the moon.  Like most little girls, she loves to sing.  But she's also a little shy, and asked the teacher if someone else in the class could sing with her.  The teacher asked for volunteers, and a little boy named Erzhan raised his hand.

Now, Erzhan is a scarlet mystery to our Ella.  I hear about him on a daily basis: the boy who is constantly paired with Ella in class, who teases her incessantly (stealing and hiding her shoes, throwing flowers at her, making faces at her, calling her names), and who fascinates her completely.  Dennis and I passed along that age-old wisdom: he teases you because he likes you.  But this was the first time she believed it might be true.  Tonight, she views him as her gallant rescuer, the boy willing to join brave a duet to save her from her solo. 

She's singing a different version of "Are You Sleeping," from the one you know: the teacher threw it into a minor key and put it at the pace of a dirge, so the song has become haunting and faintly menacing.  Ella loves it. This evening she practiced her solo over and over...and over and over.
Hopefully that concert will be soon.