After two weeks off for winter break, Kay has returned to school. If I’m being honest, school has been hard for her lately. She is testing every boundary and isn’t as excited to go as she used to be. Even though she’s only in pre-k, school expects a lot from her. Many of those expectations are similar to what I might expect from her in our daily life at home, but that doesn’t make it any easier. Some days, it all just feels like a lot for such a small person.
Although Kay is five years old, and five is still very young, her maturity level is not quite at a typical five-year-old level yet. That gap can make things especially challenging. Kay has a hard time resisting temptation and walking away from something when she’s told to stay put. A simple example from home looks like this: I’ll tell Kay, “Stand right here while I fill up your water. Don’t move.” When I look back, she’s quietly and slowly stepping away from her spot until I remind her of what I said. It’s not defiance—it’s impulse. Her brain hasn’t quite caught up to her curiosity yet.
That same lack of impulse control shows up in other ways too. I still can’t leave Kay unattended in a room for even a second. If I do, she’s often grabbing things off the counter or nearby surfaces and throwing them on the floor. Again, this isn’t about being “naughty.” It’s about development, regulation, and learning self-control at her own pace.
From what her teacher shares, similar moments happen at school when Kay is asked to stand in line with her classmates and remain there. Right now, I think a big part of the challenge is that Kay loves attention—both positive and negative. Any attention feels rewarding to her, which can make it difficult to teach what behaviors are appropriate when the outcome feels the same to her either way. This is especially tough in a classroom setting where teachers are juggling multiple children and can’t always provide immediate redirection or reassurance.
Kay thrives with one-on-one attention. At ABA, that level of individualized support helps her succeed, but unfortunately, that isn’t realistic in a traditional classroom. I believe that when Kay acts out at school, it’s often because she knows it will result in one-on-one attention, even if it’s not the kind we want. That doesn’t mean she’s being “bad”—it means she’s communicating in the way she knows how.
As we approach the halfway point of the school year, I find myself thinking more about kindergarten and how to best prepare Kay for that transition. My goal isn’t perfection or compliance for the sake of appearances. It’s helping Kay build the skills she needs to navigate school while still honoring who she is. I want her to feel supported, understood, and capable—not overwhelmed or constantly corrected.
We talk a lot at home about being kind to our peers and respectful to our teachers. Some days that message sticks better than others. There are good days and hard days, and I’m learning to give both Kay and myself grace through all of it. Progress isn’t always linear, and growth doesn’t always look the way we expect—but it’s still happening.
School may be hard right now, but Kay is resilient. She is learning, even when it doesn’t look like it on the surface. And I will continue to advocate, support, and believe in her as we navigate this season together.