Pauline Gaines offers perspective about divorce, family therapy, and boarding schools for the troubled.
Luca introduced me to his boarding school mates at the dinner table. Considering their trespasses—substance abuse, school refusal, chronic havoc-wreaking—the boys were an exceedingly polite bunch. Each boy made eye contact, shook my hand, and patiently answered my nosy “mom” questions. The conversations went something like this:
Me: Nice to meet you. Where are you from?
Boy: Scarsdale.
Luca (sotto voce): He was addicted to OxyContin. He’s my mentor.
Me: (also sotto voce): Is he better now?
Luca: Oh, yeah. He went to rehab before he came here. He was really bad, he was selling it and everything. His teeth are all messed up. He’s a cool guy, though.
Me: Oh.
We were sitting around a dinner table in a spacious room with panoramic views of a wide creek slicing through a mountain valley. Outside, the sky was a dusty blue, muted by drifting tendrils of clouds.
There were two types of kids at the school: the kids who pushed the limits and the kids on the autism spectrum. A boy stood up from the table. I surmised that this one belonged in the latter category. He was sweet-natured, with no sense of appropriate body space and a tendency to blurt out the same questions and statements repeatedly.
“You don’t have permission to stand up, Kyle,” said Mr. Dan, who was standing nearby, eating the revolting ravioli that was tonight’s entree.
“Oh, OK,” said Kyle, who sat down immediately.
Mr. Dan was an ex-cop. Like the rest of the direct care staff, he wore a nearly invisible earpiece attached to a walkie-talkie. The staff patrolled the grounds, but in a casual, interactive way, and whenever a kid wandered off, a staff member would lean into his mouthpiece and ask, “Who’s got eyes on Zach?” or “Who’s got eyes on Matt?”
A few words about the staff: they were, to a point, a singular combination of Alpha-Maleness and Zen. During my visit, I never encountered a harsh word, or threatening body language. They radiated a sense of calm and order that seemed to filter through the air. Not once did I observe a kid having a meltdown.
Except for my son.
♦◊♦
When I arrived for the family therapy session the next morning, Luca and his therapist, Perry, were standing just inside the doorway of the main building. Luca was red-faced, demanding justification for why he was not allowed to get a new skateboard. Luca had earned an off-campus parent visit, and I had promised to buy him a gift.
Perry pointed to the impressive assortment of scrapes and gashes on Luca’s arms and legs.
“You’re taking too many risks on the skateboard. Your mom can get you something else.”
“I’m not taking too many risks! The skateboard sucks. It’s dangerous! I just need a new one.”
Perry crossed his arms. “Luca, we talked about this. No skateboard.”
Luca persisted, citing unfairness and ignorance, insisting that Perry come up with “legitimate” reasons why he shouldn’t get a new skateboard.
Luca has honed his particular brand of non-compliance—a seeming inability to recognize adults as authority figures, accompanied by a level of contempt and determination to wear down his opponent—that used to unravel me. I would find myself sucked into the vortex of endless debate and resort to banging my palms on tabletops, yelling “stop talking!” or escaping into my bedroom, where I would hurl myself face down on the bed in a spasm of despair and exhaustion.
But Perry remained calm, his body firmly planted, his voice never rising as he repeated that the skateboard was off the table. When it was clear that Luca was too wound up to come to the family session, Ryan suggested he “take a five” up the hill in the yurt, a tented structure filled with weighted blankets and hammock swings, and other sensory integration tools designed to help agitated kids pull themselves together.
“The yurt really helps him calm down,” said Perry. We were now sitting in his office, a cozy space sprinkled with glimpses into his personal life: framed drawings, presumably by his kids, photos of junior sports leagues he coached. “I think he’ll be able to join us in a little bit.”
Perry filled me in on Luca’s progress: after a turbulent entrance into boarding school, he had begun to work the program—arguing less, doing assignments, earning his way up the level system.
“We’re concerned that he relies so much on externals,” said Perry. “I tell him, anyone who relies on anything external for their self-esteem is in big trouble.”
Hearing this made me profoundly sad because I knew what it was like to grow up feeling that you weren’t enough. I always felt I had to be better just to be equal and had spent most of my life chasing after excellent grades, admission to the “right” college, a perfectly toned body, a Martha Stewart-worthy home, a dazzling husband who held me at arm’s length. Obtaining these gave me an initial high, but the buzz always wore off, and once it did I found myself propelled towards some other glittery thing to anaesthetize my intrinsic sense of unworthiness.
♦◊♦
My carefully constructed pre-divorce life had been designed to give my children what I never had: solid footing, a sense of belonging, a sense of being enough.
Clearly, things had not gone according to my plan.
Perry went on: “His skateboard, his yoyo, his kites … Luca sort of dangles these objects in front of the other kids, flaunting his skills, bragging about how much things cost.”
“It irritates his peers; it keeps him from really relating to them. That’s another reason I wanted to get him off the fixation with the skateboard. I want him to focus on his visit with you.”
Luca walked into the room and picked up where he left off. He insisted that he be allowed to get a new skateboard. After a few volleys, with Luca refusing to back down—“I’m not going to go on the visit if I can’t get the skateboard!”—Perry showed him the door and told him to go back to school. The classrooms were in a wooden building up the hill.
“He’ll be fine in about 20 minutes,” Perry assured me, although I wasn’t convinced. “He told me how much your time together at the wilderness camp meant to him.”
Perry paused.
“What’s the situation with custody?” he asked.
I took a deep breath and tried to figure out how to answer his question without coming across as defensive. Prince had told the psychologist who did Luca’s most recent psychological evaluation that the court took away my custody because I was an unfit mother, when in fact we had settled out of court. I gave my ex-husband virtually everything he wanted because I had run out of money to pay my attorney, and if I fought any longer I might have gone crazy for real.
When I read the false allegation in the psych evaluation, I had the psychologist amend the document, deleting the passage about custody. But I still felt the burden of having to prove I wasn’t a whack job.
“Well, I basically gave his dad full custody,” I said. “He has full physical custody of Luca, but not our daughter. Technically, we still share legal custody, but he gets to make all major decisions regarding Luca.”
“Prince told me he wants to go back to 50-50 custody.”
I stared at Perry, unable to gather the words to construct a sentence. After suing me for custody of Luca, a process that spanned more than a year, drained six figures from my life savings, and possibly several years off my life, Prince was now, apparently, saying he wanted to reverse the decision.
“I don’t believe it,” I said, finally.
“Luca doesn’t believe it either,” said Perry. “He thinks it’s more about control for his dad.”
“I think, when Luca comes home, he might want to split the physical custody,” I said. “But he’ll still want to make all the decisions.”
“Well, I’m going to hold him to what he said.”
That’s nice of you, I thought, and it will do absolutely no good.
We talked for a little bit longer and then Perry glanced at the wall clock. It was noon.
“School’s over,” he said. “Let’s see if Luca’s changed his mind.”
♦◊♦
He walked me out of his office, through the reception area, past a snow-white Grand Pyrenees that had been conked out on the same couch since I arrived the day before. Perry pulled open the wooden door, and we stepped onto the landing. The sky was sparkling blue. Painted pumpkins lined the path down the hill.
Several boys filed out of the school building that was perched on a hill above the basketball court. I watched Luca cross the bridge that led back to the main house. I winced as I noticed his purple skinny jeans sagging on him. He hadn’t regained any of the 20 pounds he lost at wilderness camp.
Luca stopped in front of me, blinking, the way he does when he gets nervous.
“You ready to go out with your mom, Luca?” asked Perry.
I studied Luca’s face for signs of an impending explosion. I could tell he was working hard to reel himself in.
“Can we get a milk shake?” he asked.
To be continued …
—Photo Meral Crifasi/Flickr
About Pauline Gaines
Pauline,
I have been following your writing for about a month now, and I’ve really enjoyed the work that you’ve put into it. I also appreciate the risk you are taking by being so public with an aspect of your life. It is refreshing to see someone willing to open up for the purpose of starting a conversation.
I was wondering if you could comment a little bit about the interaction between Luca and Perry over getting a new skateboard.
While Perry’s goals seem admirable, it is hard to get past the lesson he seems to be teaching: that those in power can make arbitrary and capricious rules. While there is certainly a problem if someone Luca’s age has great difficulty controlling his temper and actions, how does that get weighed against helping someone to develop as an individual? Isn’t there a value to teaching someone that promises (in this case a new skateboard) are kept? Similarly, how can the institution claim to be teaching their students to “earn” privileges when they can also decide to suddenly move the goalposts? What message does it send when privileges are suddenly placed out of reach on the eve of their supposed awarding?
I should probably also admit that I was often sent to therapy as a child and did not deserve to be. When I was an undergraduate my mother was finally diagnosed with bipolar disorder. One way this manifested itself during my childhood was that I had often been taken to therapists where my mother would tell them “I cannot deal with him, you need to fix him.” Of course the reality of the situation was that my mother was in a depressive phase and that was why she couldn’t deal with me. Of the half dozen therapists I saw throughout middle and high school, only 1 reached this conclusion while the others took my mother’s word over mine, believing that I must have secretly been hiding extreme behavior. As a result I have virtually no trust for therapists, but as they say, I am “working through it.”
Perry went on: “His skateboard, his yoyo, his kites … Luca sort of dangles these objects in front of the other kids, flaunting his skills, bragging about how much things cost.”
“It irritates his peers; it keeps him from really relating to them. That’s another reason I wanted to get him off the fixation with the skateboard. I want him to focus on his visit with you.”
Pauline, who is buying Luca these premium-priced toys? Is it you or the father?
Mike, you raise so many nuanced questions, especially about the reasons kids are sent to therapy and the effectiveness of therapy for kids. My son had long-term behavioral problems in every setting: home, school, playdates. When he turned 13, I coudn’t contain him in my house anymore so I sent him to live with his dad, and things spiraled totally out of control at that point, which is how he ended up in boarding school. So in our case, really no one has been able to contain him.
Regarding the skateboard issue, there are a lot of details I didn’t get into…bur his dad had really not wanted him to get a new skateboard and the school felt it wasn’t safe because he was taking too many risks. As for the whole level system (working for privileges), I just see no other way to get kids to take accountability. Things do have to be earned in the real world and kids have to learn to tolerate their frustration.
It sounds as though you really did take the heat for your mom’s issues — you didn’t mention behavior problems or problems in other settings. What you really needed was family therapy, not individual therapy. And, yeah, there are a lot of bad therapists out there — I can see why you don’t trust the profession.
James, most of these objects have been purchased by his dad — he’s the one with the deep pockets, and he has tended to try to motivate Luca by promising him things. However, I did take Luca to get a remote control car while I was there, in part because he spent his birthday in wilderness camp and I wasn’t able to give him a present then. But you raise a good point about the mixed messages Luca, and I think many kids, get — about the importance of “things” and how we depend on them for gratification.
Hi Pauline, I suspected that the father was buying the toys.
If he is to continue buying toys he should buy bog-standard toys, Luca doesnt need the deluxe versions. The father should be informed that the price tags of the toys is creating jealousy in the other children, and an inflated sense of importance and prestige in Luca. And that this is holding back Luca’s progress.
Hi, James — definitely understand your perspective. His dad has been told. Don’t think he’s going to change how he does things, however…
Pauline, wonderful, honest piece.
Hi Pauline: It all comes rushing back as I read your wonderful piece, My wife and I in the late 90s went through many scenes like the one you have described in the places you have described.
Sorry Mike, but absolutely no one understands like another parent who has gone through this — not even the child on the receiving end. As a responsible parent to a child out of control (and it seems to happen to all of these kids around the same age) there is absolutely nothing more hands-down panic-causing or profoundly sad than what is experienced when your child cannot be contained in his own home. And, there is apparently no end to the guilt and shame experienced by the parents when they ultimately must seek help. The desperate diagnoses, the lack of skilled professionals, no one with answers, the medications, residential or non-residentential, wilderness camp, boarding schools, countless hours of web-surfing, what the insurance pays and doesn’t pay, the liquidation of assets … whatever it takes … God!!! It all comes rushing back!
I felt so strongly about what so many families we witnessed and we had gone through, I went back to school and got a masters and a license in mental health counseling so I could help to reform the system from within. I wanted to be a comfort for that family like mine or yours that is frightened out of their minds and deciding that they can no longer parent their child. Worse, they believe they are failures.
I repeat – no one understands what it is like to be responsible for a child “out of control” than those who have children “out of control”. No one. Thanks Pauline!
Hi Leo: Wow, I couldn’t have said things better. I think that you’re right, only parents of kids who’ve had these kinds of issues can totally get it. While it’s true that some kids are truly victims of a parent’s mental illness, or other issues that make effective parenting difficult (like a bad divorce), there are kids who struggle even when they have the best of circumstances. I cannot describe the frustration of dealing with ineffective, or even bad therapists (especially outpatient therapists who don’t see the kids in their environment or within the family and can empower kids who need more limit-setting than empowering)…the waste of time and money. I’m so glad you decided to get a degree and work with families of “hard-to-treat” children — we need more people like you!
Thanks for the response, Pauline. After I wrote the rather knee-jerk response, I did read more of your posts which I somehow missed initially on this site. Appears I was preaching to the choir … you are working in the field yourself and do see all sides of the spectrum. Also, I didn’t mean to minimize Mike’s plight as the victim of family mental illness.
I did my internship at an adolescent therapeutic community and fortunately was given a good dose of “both sides” from a wide socioeconomic spectrum. The population I hope to focus on in this new career will be adolescents and their families in that “hard-to-treat” category. Best of luck to you — I will follow you on the “perils” site. Thanks again.
Can’t believe you’d pause the story in mid-stride like that. It’s about control, isn’t it? .. I’ve been wondering what’s up on this. Thanks for the update. Hang in there.
Your honesty and insights are wonderful. I think the school is actually doing a really good job; there just isn’t room for negotiation with a difficult child. I look forward to reading about the rest of the visit. And I think you’re doing really well.
Pauline,
I am enjoying this journey, and I am learning so much. I cannot begin to understand what you are going through because the road with my two sons has been fairly smooth; however, I know many families in this position, and through them, and now you, I feel the heartache felt by both the parents and the kids. It’s easy to judge when you’re on the outside looking in. That has been my lesson. Thanks so much for sharing your story. Hang in there, and much love and luck to you, dad, and Luca.
I note Pauline speaks as if Luca’s father is a bad influence because he is controlling yet that is also what Pauline is doing to Luca by proxy. He is being forced to accept capricious authority figures, regardless of how much they are dressed up as “calming” influences.
I hope he’ll learn how to play the game of levels though, while retaining his own sense of self. One thing is right in the article, your sense of self only comes from within. No zen guards or a parent can ever give you something that only comes from yourself.
Pauline – Thank you so much for sharing your story. I am the mother to a son who has similar behavior patterns, though he is still in elementary school. My husband and I often feel alone and isolated by his problems, as none of our family or friends have ever dealt with anything close to what we deal with on a daily basis. By sharing your story, it makes me feel a little less alone in this. Thank you.
Dear Mom: Your reaction–feeling less alone–is one of the reasons I write about my son’s issues. The notion that kids’ behavior problems are 100% the fault of messed-up parents is pervasive and just not true (although wacky parents certainly do damage kids). Many kids would be in situations like ours even in the best of circumstances. It’s time for good-enough parents to stop feeling shamed and blamed for situations that defy all reasonable attempts to correct. In addition, kids with behavior issues should not have to feel shamed and labeled “bad kids.” My very best to you and your family, and please check back to see how this story unfolds. I’m learning right along with you.
Pauline,
Kudos to you for being so honest. Your blog is helping to educate the public about the world of therapeutic boarding schools and the alternative to home-based treatment they provide.
In an earlier comment you mention the level system at Luca’s school. As an educational consultant I travel to therapeutic programs across the country and have seen some excellent ones that don’t use that approach. Different strokes for different folks.
Good luck!
Hi Lucy — I’d love to know how these schools get results without using a level system.
Just posted a long response, Pauline, but I don’t see it here….I’ll repost shortly
Lucy