When School Starts Differently than Expected: A Mother's Tale of Hope and Challenge

Read the previous column: Something's Not Right. But What Exactly?

Before entering first grade, I hoped Michali could have a fresh start. With new friends who didn’t know her from the previous year, she might begin anew in a positive way. Unfortunately, despite her school being quite large, nearly half of her class comprised girls she’d attended kindergarten with. I was disappointed but kept praying and hoping for the best.

And thus, we began the school year.

The first day, with other mothers around, filled me with hope. The day was fantastic; she integrated well into the class and even answered a teacher’s question—earning a compliment. I couldn’t have wished for a better day. I already knew her teacher, who taught my older daughter when she started first grade, and remembered her as excellent. Thank Hashem for a good start.

Then, classes began.

And suddenly---

She reads. But slo---w---ly. Not even close to the pace of her classmates. She’s okay with math, most of the time, but when it comes to reading and writing—a mess. She knows the letters, slowly learning to connect them into words—but it’s all so slow...

Suddenly, I realized not all kids come home excited, declaring “Mom, I need to read to you,” and finish important tasks within five minutes. That was my older daughter. Michali, meanwhile, needed at least an hour of focused attention to tackle her homework. When writing in her notebook, after nearly every letter, she found some other interesting distraction, anything but continuing.

Her notebooks were empty. Each page had maybe a word, or a line if it was a good day. The rest blank.

Her backpack? Chaos. Always loose papers, lost writing tools.

If only she had at least a few good friends to offset all this difficulty... but no. My fears stood right before my eyes. Michali has no friends. Just none. Occasionally, she’d come home beaming, telling me she became friends with this girl or that, and that they were “best friends fore---ver.” None of these friendships ever lasted more than a day. The next day, Michali came home sad. “That’s it, we’re no longer friends.”

Michali remained lonely in class, and neither the teacher nor I could find a satisfactory explanation for the situation.

Simultaneously, I started noticing slightly strange behaviors. Michali began lying or sitting on the floor at any opportunity, even at inappropriate times. When I asked her to get up, she always refused.

Her mood became gloomy, and her sensitivity increased in all areas. Suddenly, every minor bump turned into a dramatic scene of crying and pain. Suddenly, every little housefly seemed to be “Mooooom, a cockroach!!!” Suddenly, Shabbat clothes turned into a project, because they itched, or weren’t comfortable, or pinched. Let’s not even talk about shoes. Sensory sensitivity, I recognized immediately. I was already familiar with this. But where did it suddenly come from?

And with all this, at home, I saw a perfect child. Brilliant. Kind-hearted. Always looking for ways to help others, always saying sweet, amusing things that delight any parent (Mom, what’s a Haredi? Someone who comes from Hared?). Every adult she met—family, parents of her friends, store clerks—every adult who met her couldn’t stop praising her. So, what’s going on with girls her age?

One day, some girls in Michali’s class decided to tease others. A typical children’s squabble, nothing unusual. Michali wasn’t involved. She sat in her place, happily drawing, as she’d been doing lately.

“Michali, come help us!” she suddenly heard some girls calling her, thrilled with the attention, she rushed to help. She didn’t take a moment to think about what exactly she was helping with. When the girls from the other group protested, Michali cried to the teacher, saying they hit her. Even when she later recounted the story to me, she still couldn’t grasp that it was she who hurt the girls from the other group, that the push that pained her was an act of self-defense on their part.

So many difficulties, so much confusion... At this point, I realized that prayers and hopes are important, but one shouldn’t neglect taking action. It was time to reach out to the Children’s Development Institute through our health fund.

Do you have anyone with similar challenges at home? Feel free to share your thoughts.