Misunderstanding: When Sarcasm Strikes the Wrong Chord

For the previous chapter: Thoughts on ADHD and Communication

The summer vacation ended, along with my musings about further evaluations. This topic was so complex, that I only occasionally looked into it, gathering bits of information (like the shockingly high cost of communication assessments). But time moved on, and Michali successfully entered second grade.

By the second or third day of school, once I had the contact information of the new homeroom teacher, I reached out to her. Michali isn’t an average student entering second grade. She struggles both academically and socially, and I thought her teacher should know that. Our conversation went great. The teacher listened to my concerns, promised to be considerate of Michali’s needs, and to stay in touch with me if necessary. She also directed me to the school counselor, whom I, for some reason, had not met until then.

The year started off quite smoothly. I diligently checked Michali’s backpack and ensured she did her homework. She occasionally complained about her classmates, but everything seemed manageable.

After the holidays, things started to go downhill.

Michali came home crying repeatedly, sharing new stories.

The teacher was insulting her.

Humiliating her in front of the class.

Yelling at her alone.

I was stunned. Could this be the same charming teacher I spoke with on the phone? The one who listened patiently, promised to accommodate, and to offer Michali positive reinforcement? Something was off.

Our conversation was lengthy and complex, but eventually, I realized something: this teacher has a bit of a sarcastic style. She prefers subtle humor and cynicism over shouting or reprimanding the girls for misbehaving. Most of the girls manage fine, maybe even enjoy the joke, and appreciate that she doesn’t get angry. But Michali… she doesn’t get sarcasm. She doesn’t understand cynicism. She takes things literally. And it hurts her, to the core of her being.

And rightfully so...

I explained this to the teacher. "This way of speaking and treating the students might work for everyone. But not for Michali. She doesn’t understand it, and it hurts her. I’m asking you, please, speak to her differently."

She agreed, thank Hashem.

*

Simultaneously, I spoke with the school counselor, who was quite passive at that stage. We talked a little about Michali and her difficulties, but she somehow got the impression that Michali was being well-cared for and didn’t need additional help. She suggested I approach her later in the year if needed, to arrange assistance for Michali... for next year.

Really? And what about this year? Her hands were tied.

*

Once again, Michali came home crying. What happened this time?

"Tovi hit me."

I was shocked. I knew Tovi, a gentle and sweet girl who moved up to school with Michali from kindergarten. She had been to our house a few times, and Michali had visited her before. They weren’t really close friends, but of all the girls in the class, I found it hard to imagine Tovi hitting anyone.

"Tovi?!"

"Yes, she sits next to me, and..." what followed was a confused and lengthy description of their minor quarrel that ended in a slap.

"And what did you do? Did you tell the teacher?"

"Yes. And she told me she doesn’t believe me!!! She said I must have dreamt it!!!"

That evening I called the teacher. I thought I would need to scold her and demand explanations, but she listened with her own sheer amazement.

"That’s what she understood?!", she was beside herself. She wasn’t aware of how calming her listening and straightforward explanation were to me. Perhaps that unfortunate phone call caught her on an especially hectic day, leading her to perceive blame before it even arrived. But yes, she cared.

"Michali told me Tovi hit her, and I was shocked. It didn’t seem like something Tovi would do." Yes, I thought so too. "So I reacted in amazement, 'I don’t believe you!', and immediately turned to Tovi to ask why she hit. She told me she didn’t hit at all, so I asked her: 'So what, did Michali dream it last night?'. I wasn’t talking to Michali, I was speaking with Tovi! Of course, I believed, and I continued to address the issue!"

I believed her instantly. The sarcasm this time was directed entirely at the other girl, and the teacher hadn’t anticipated a problem. This story aligned so well with the "misunderstandings" I had already noticed in Michali’s comprehension. The teacher was taken aback, but addressed the situation sensibly – and yet Michali was still hurt to her core.

Again I realized: there is something unclear here. Something that ADHD doesn’t manage to fully explain to me.

On a personal note: This column is my personal story, mine and Michali's, written as life itself continues to unfold. When I started writing the column, ADHD was the focal point around which the narrative revolved. Much has changed since, but I chose to keep writing in the hope that the story could still benefit readers.

Do you also have ADHD at home? Feel free to comment.