- 10/4/2010 7:34:21 AMPencilsAt the beginning of the school year, Peggy gave Michael 7 new pencils. They were sharpened for him at home and ready to go. Within 2 weeks of school, he was no longer able to account for them. Keep in mind that the first two weeks of school were shortened. The first week, which started on a Wednesday was only 3 days long. The second week, which started the following Tuesday after Labor day, was only 4 days long.
During the second week, we began to see Michael coming home with other pencils. I should say, other people's pencils. "I found it" was the common excuse. Is it possible that he actually "found" these pencils just laying around unattended at school? Sure - anything is possible. If it were any other normal kid, I would be more likely to believe it.
This morning, while Michael was upstairs fetching even more pencils and markers for school, Peggy went through Michael's back pack. She wasn't looking for anything in particular, she was just being a mother who is keeping a diligent eye on her son. Sure enough, another pencil in his back pack. This one had a rubber finger grip on it. We didn't purchase any of those for him and so he acquired it from somewhere else.
Peggy asked Michael, "where did you get this pencil from?" That seems like a pretty straight forward question. Unless you know Michael, you'll probably never guess at his response to that simple question. "This one had paint on it but I pealed it off", he replied. If you're new to these stories, then welcome to the world of Michael. A magical place where cause and effect are unrelated and any question can easily be answered with any response - including responses that don't even come close to answering the question.
Here is where I made a wrong move - I engaged him and let him know that his answer didn't make any sense and that he is avoiding answering the actual question. Michael was now on the defensive side of things - a place he frequently finds himself and also a position that causes him a great deal of mental anguish and confusion. Responding to questions immediately causes psychological overload for Michael. He becomes stressed, filled with guilt and quickly begins to lie - about everything, anything, and nothing in particular.
"You didn't answer the question", I said. "Mom asked you where this pencil came from". Peggy continued. "I gave you seven sharpened pencils at the beginning of the school year. Where are they?", she asked. "They don't work", Michael answered.
Ah yes... the old defective pencil trick. Also notice the use of the word "they" implying that all seven pencils have failed him. I think they only come 10 to a pack. If they truly were defective, I would also surmise that all 10 in the pack are defective. Anyone who has grown up in the United States and been forced to use the standard, nasty, wooden number 2 pencil knows the miserable experience of learning about their documented the unreliability... NOT! I told Michael, "Pencil technology is as old as the hills. There is nothing to them. You sharpen them, and they work." Peggy added, "Don't you think that Dad and I have used these pencils before? Each of us has used them in school for 12 years!. They work! Where are the pencils I sent with you to school?"
Here we go again...
"The teacher said to cut the tips off. Then they were too short and I couldn't use them.", Michael answered.
This is the classic move of combining the truth with a lie. Somewhere in that answer is a story of where Michael was engaged with the teacher about his pencils. It seems as though Michael struggles sharpening his pencils. "When I sharpened the pencil, the wood was still covering it. Then the teacher said to sharpen it again. When I did, the wood was still covering it so she told me to cut off the tip and try again. Then the pencil was too short."
So Michael - a boy who most definitely knows how to sharpen a pencil - ground his down until it became an unusable stump. He claims that this happened to two pencils. A little quick math indicates that there are five pencils remaining from the original seven. "I used one", Michael responded smugly. You could see the simple arrogance in his face as if with that statement, he has now declared the pencil mystery resolved.
He just doesn't get it! Wasting two pencils and using one more to it's fullest potential, does not add up to seven. Nor does it address the additional pencils he has been using since school began. Further more, it does not explain the three extra pencils he brought down from his room this morning.
"What happened to the other four pencils?", Peggy asked. You could almost see the mental gears come to a screeching halt when she asked that question. Michael had a dead, blank look on his face. Once again, Michael tried to pull another all encompassing lie out of his butt. "One is in my locker", he answered. "That leaves three. What about the other three?", Peggy asked. "The other one is in my desk", Michael answered. "That leaves two. Where are the last two pencils?", she asked. Keep in mind that this is only after 4 weeks of school, and two of those weeks were shortened.
Michael had no more answers. He just stood there, pursing his lips, petting his own hair, and scratching the mysterious spot on the top of his head. This is the classic indicator that Michael is under stress - usually self imposed. I said to him, "You can't even keep your own stories straight! You're just making this up as you go!". "How about some truth? Why don't you just tell the truth? Is there something wrong with the truth?", Peggy added.
Of course there is something wrong with the truth. Telling the truth is the same as admitting defeat. It is the loss of control over the deception being played and we all know that the loss of control over the situation is the equivalent to death. At least if you suffer from Reactive Attachment Disorder it does.
Michael dug his heals in and stopped talking. Sometimes he likes to act as though he is thoroughly confused. As if by simply asking him questions, we have somehow now clouded what was previously a very clear and straight forward conversation. In truth, Michael intentionally adds confusion or feigns being confused for the simple purpose of trying to alter the key points of the interaction. By "acting stupid", he hopes to get us off topic and frustrated while we go over what he said, what we said, what he said. By the time we're done, we're all tired and he claims victory because he feels that he controlled it all. Sometimes he succeeds but we are watchful for this and we try to keep him on track and on the point.
"What do you think you're going to do with these other pencils?", Peggy asked. Of course, Michael had no answers. Knowing what we know about Michael, here is what we believe: Michael has used going to the pencil sharpener as a crazy game in the class room. For whatever reason, it is stimulating to him. Perhaps he likes the smell of ground wood or the "coolness" of using the sharpener. Perhaps he liked to get up out of his chair and sharpening his pencil is the perfect excuse to compliment getting a drink of water or going to the bathroom. Maybe he likes the feeling of knowing that the sound is distracting to other kids and they focus their attention on him when he does it. Again - this is a control tactic and another symptom of RAD. Michael claims that the teacher gave him these extra pencils, but strangely enough, they don't seem to need as much sharpening as the ones we sent with him.
There is definitely something crazy going on here. Is it important enough to focus on? Is it really that big of a deal? I think so. Here why: Nuggets. It is all about the nuggets. What is a nugget? A nugget is that small piece of something you hold on to so that you can still keep what you want and in Michael' case - claim victory. It is like the small part of sin that you hold onto while cleaning out the large dark and dirty places in your life.
For example, if you're a gossip, and even though you have admitted to being a gossip, then a nugget would be to keep in contact with other people you share choice morsels with despite giving the outward appearance of repentance. You continue to maintain contact with your whispering friends all the while eliminating contact with people who could identify and call out what you are doing. Nuggets are the small parts you hold on to. They are also seeds that grow and spread.
For Michael, a nugget is the small lie that was used while trying to pass off a larger lie. On Sunday (yesterday) I asked Michael if he had cleaned his room. We have a chore chart on the refrigerator that lists everyone's weekday and weekend chores. For Michael, cleaning his room is a Saturday chore but it was not checked off which alerted me. Also, when he has done it, he comes to me and asks me to check over his work. One thing is for sure about Michael, if you are not watching him, he will actively attempt to get away with everything he can.
"Did you clean your room yesterday?", I asked. Michael put his finger to his chin as if in deep thought, "Um... yes. I believe I did", he answered. "Do you want to think about that one some more and try again?", I responded. I paused for a moment and asked again, "Did you clean your room yesterday?". "Dad", he insisted. "I'm pretty sure I cleaned it!". (Lie #1a)
The "follow up question" is always where Michael's logic breaks down. "If someone asks about my room, then I'll just say that I did it and they will believe me", he thinks. Michael has no Plan B when someone asks a further and more detailed question. Sometimes he will be stumped on what to say, while at other times he will just simply begin talking as if he is answering a question you asked last week, a question someone else asked, or a question that no one asked - like "how did the paint get pealed off of that pencil". I'm sure it makes sense to him. After all, he is a "master tricker" you know.
"When did you clean it?", I asked. This time I got the blank confused look. "Um, I think I did it in the morning", he blurted it out. (Lie #1b) I happen to know that Michael got up late while I was out running errands early on Saturday morning. I returned home at 10:00 AM and we began to butcher chickens shortly thereafter. We were busy with the chickens until around 4:00 PM in the afternoon. There was no additional time in there when he could have ducked out and cleaned his room.
I told him this and he again looked confused. "Who checked over your room? It wasn't me. Tell me, who checked it over?", I asked further. Michael looked at me for a long time. "You know Dad, now that I think about it, I might not have done it", he said. (Lie #2 aka "the nugget")
Here is the clincher, here is why I pursue every little bit of truth with Michael. Here is why we work so hard to eliminate all traces of lie and deception with him.
Even in coming around to truth (after he was backed into a corner), he injects a lie. This time, the lie is that upon further analysis and reflection, he has concluded that there may be a chance that this chore might have been overlooked. This in itself is a lie and a nugget of control that he holds on to while he tells himself that he successfully fooled me and got away with it.
"That's two lies Michael", I said. "You lied about cleaning your room, and now you want me to think that you just now remembered that you may not have done it. You conveniently remembered right after I caught you in the first lie. You knew the whole time that you didn't clean your room. You say to me, 'You never believe me. You always think I lie'. There is a reason for that Michael. Because it's true! This is why I don't trust you. You're not interested in building trust between us. You just want to deceive me. Am I correct or not?"
"yes", Michael mumbled quietly. "Say it louder", I responded angrily. "Yes", Michael said. "Say, 'Yes Dad I was lying about cleaning my room and lying about remembering that I didn't do it", I ordered. "Yes Dad I was lying about cleaning my room and remembering that I didn't do it".
I am so sick to death of this kind of stupid crap. When they tested Michael at school for special needs, they examined his academic performance and whether or not he had ADD or ADHD. Unfortunately they don't have a lying/manipulation/deception/crazy mind game test. He would be off the chart.
On a related side note, Michael asked me if he could bring some Styrofoam cups to school. Apparently the drinking fountains are defective as well as the pencils and Michael needs his own cup to drink out of. I happen to know that Michael is one of those kids who plays with and destroys Styrofoam cups by chewing on and then eating them leaving bits an pieces all over the place - which never seem to get cleaned up - and he has no idea on how they got spread all over the place - but he is pretty sure they didn't come from him because he remembers throwing his old cup in the trash...
