W

hen Mrs. Goldberg calls me about her son Zevy I hear the panic in her voice.

“Zevy was fine until sixth grade” Mrs. Goldberg starts. “But then things started going wrong. We’ve tried so many things but nothing is helping. He hates school he’s moody at home and he’s just spiraling downward.”

What changed in sixth grade? School — and life — became more complex but Zevy’s skills did not develop proportionately.

At her intake session I ask her to tell me about her son. “The concerns you mentioned center on school. How is he doing academically?”

“Zevy has a great memory. He always did well in school at least until sixth grade” she says. “That’s when they started gemara.

Students with weak critical thinking skills get by in younger grades if they can compensate with a superior memory.

“We couldn’t pinpoint exactly what the difficulty was. We tried tutoring but it didn’t make a huge difference. Sometimes he gets it and sometimes he doesn’t — there doesn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to it.” She sounds frustrated. Zevy’s own frustration must be a thousand times worse.

“What does he say when he comes home from school?” I ask.

“Weeeell… when I ask him about his day he kind of grunts.” She chuckles reluctantly.

I laugh too. “That’s normal for his age” I assure her. “But can he tell you about his day if you ask again?”

Mrs. Goldberg thinks. “Not really” she says honestly. “If I push him I get a one-word answer — good bad but that’s about it.”

Zevy uses the fewest words possible when talking because his verbal expression is poor.

“Let’s say something unusual happens — he goes on a trip. Can he tell you about it?”

“That’s another weird thing. Let’s say he went on a trip. When he tells me about it it’s all kind of jumbled. He’ll say something like ‘After we went there we went to the thing and it was so cool — you should have seen how he did it.’ And I’m like who? What? Where did you go how did you get there what was it what was so cool?”

Zevy talks as if the listener was there with him and knows what he’s talking about. He doesn’t realize he has to elaborate.

Mrs. Goldberg becomes agitated when I ask her to describe Zevy’s overall demeanor. “The whole situation is terrible” she blurts. “He hates school. He’s not learning well and he feels like a failure. Farhers are the worst. He’s always so frustrated and miserable!”

Since verbal expression is difficult for Zevy he can’t succeed in a verbal test.

“And he can’t even express himself” I add. “A vicious cycle.”

I believe parents have very keen insight when it comes to their own child. I welcome and require parents’ input throughout the therapeutic journey. Chazal say there are three partners in the creation of a child: father mother and Hashem. They don’t say anything about the therapist. Zevy’s mother may not know the terminology but she knows her child. The parents’ role in identifying the issue and helping their child progress is invaluable. With Zevy’s parents as committed partners Zevy has every chance of success.

We schedule an evaluation for Zevy and I review the results with his mother. Zevy has poor verbal expression poor listening comprehension and poor critical thinking skills. All higher-order thinking is beyond his current ability. It’s no wonder he’s sullen angry and underperforming. School — and life — is torture for him!

Mom says: I feel like Zevy barely communicates. He’s not succeeding in school and he feels like a failure. Worst of all he’s so unhappy. I don’t know what’s wrong and I’m desperate to help him.

Rebbi says:  Zevi’s bright but he’s not getting it in class. It looks like he’s lazy and unmotivated but I wonder if something else is at play here.

Zevy says: My mother forced me to come to this therapist. As if some lady therapist person is going to be able to help me with Gemara.

To Be Continued…

Chana Wilhelm M.S. CCC-SLP is a speech-language pathologist in private practice for over 15 years.