Oskar and the C-word

Every day when I pick Oskar up from school I meet with his teacher for a debriefing on how he behaved that day. In order to encourage positive behavior, the school has devised a point system whereby if Oskar earns a certain number of points, he receives a reward – screen time at home (his holy grail). If he does not earn enough points, he does not earn screen time (which includes TV, computer and his beloved Nintendo DSi). Oskar carries a clipboard with him from class to class, and each segment of his day (there are 7) is graded independently in 4 different areas (staying attentive, being polite, hands to himself, being quiet) on a scale of zero to 3.

Every day, Oskar’s teacher meets me at the door and goes over the day, class-by-class, point-by-point. By now, Oskar is done. He is tired and impatient and just wants to know if he earned enough points or not. But every day, his teacher and I go over each class and each point and discuss both where he did well and where he needs improvement. Then she tallies up the points and delivers the score.

This purpose of the protocol is to show Oskar that he is accountable for his behavior and his actions, and that good, acceptable behavior will be rewarded. I feel so fortunate that the school is on board 100 percent with a behavior modification plan, and they have bent over backwards to accommodate us. I mean, what kind of teacher takes this much time and effort for one student? It’s incredible.

Nevertheless, it’s also exhausting and increasingly demoralizing, as Oskar’s behavior is remarkably inconsistent. We can do everything right at home – a great night’s sleep, plenty of exercise, a good healthy breakfast, a nice walk to school – and then when he gets to school, there is no rhyme or reason; he can still have a bad day. You never know.

So, when 3:15 rolls around I start to steel myself for the meeting. What good or bad news will I get today? Will he earn enough points to watch “Modern Family” and play Sims II or will I have to find some way to occupy an angry Oskar for the entire evening? Will he be proud of his ability to control himself or will he be bitter and convinced that everyone is out to get him? Increasingly, I have considered taking a bracing shot of whiskey before I head out the door…

In addition to the daily meetings with his teacher, I also meet with the principal, who informs me of behavioral transgressions in unstructured, non-academic settings, like lunch and recess. This school has high expectations for their students’, and they do not cotton to inappropriate behavior. Two weeks ago, the principal spoke to me about Oskar using more appropriate language, after he reported being “in a pissy mood” and threatening to “kill” another student if he lost his place in a book. Last week, the principal talked to Oskar again when, during recess, Oskar took two basketballs, put them under his shirt and pranced around, pretending to have breasts.

On Monday, the principal had to speak to Oskar again about proper lunchroom behavior and respecting his food when, during lunch, he frosted his sloppy Joe with his strawberry yogurt, stuck a carrot stick in the top and sang happy birthday to a classmate.

Yesterday, when I went to pick Oskar up his teacher said he had a very bad day. Indeed, he earned only a meager 64 points (far short of the 74 needed to earn screen time). At this point, Oskar stormed out of the building, and we could see him through the glass doors as he sulked, teary eyed on the playground. His teacher went class-by-class, point by point, to show me where he had trouble (not keeping his hands to himself in Spanish, being silly in music, etc.).

Worst of all, she said, was that he was used inappropriate language. She leaned in close to me and whispered, “He used the C word.” My jaw dropped. My heart sank. I think I may have even gasped. “He what?” I said, incredulous. She nodded, “Yes, the C word.”

Simultaneously, I started spelling, “c-u-?” while she said, “crap.” She looked at me and I looked at her. I was a little embarrassed that I went there, but I recovered quickly and said, “Yes, that is unacceptable. He can’t say crap in school and we will talk about it tonight.”

He didn’t earn screen time last night, and instead used the time to teach himself how to knit. I have to admit, I almost gave him screen time for NOT saying the c-word. It’s a start.