“I Get By with a Little Help From My Friends”
I’ve known Greg since he was a stocky third-grader with brown hair cut in bangs across his forehead. He was a cheerful, outgoing, talkative kid who had an unfailingly positive attitude despite the fact that he lost or forgot almost everything—coat, homework, library books, soccer shoes. He was always the child who didn’t have a pencil, who hadn’t read the assignment, who got to class late, who forgot to tell his mom he needed to bring the snack. And yet, everybody loved him because he was positive, supportive, a good athlete, and a steadfast friend.
For ten years, all through grade school and high school, we worked on Greg’s organizational skills. He had executive function support for his homework. He learned to make lists and to create a schedule for when each part of a long-term project was due. Much of his life was organized by his mom who woke him up, reminded him when he had to be some place, and helped him keep track of his stuff. His friends on the lacrosse team made sure he got to practice. His girlfriend planned their time together and organized events like starlight bowling with friends and team barbecues.
By the age of 18, Greg had grown into a slender, crew cut kid with decent grades and a very manageable life. A strong social network helped Greg function at a high level.
He got into the college he’d hoped to attend and we talked about the organizational challenges he might confront freshman year. Nevertheless, when we met during winter break after his first semester, he let me know there was trouble. “I don’t have my grades yet,” he said. “But they’re not going to be good.”
“How do you know?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I forgot a lot of work I should have done,” he said. “I never woke up for my first period biology class, and when you miss the lab, you can’t do the assignment. I had a lot of stuff to do like laundry, but I never got around to it. I brought it all home at Thanksgiving and the back of my car is full of it again. I feel like I’m slipping. I’ve missed team practice. I don’t remember to do assignments. I find myself studying for tests at the last minute and staying up all night. I don’t understand it. I was doing a lot better in high school.”
“In high school you learned to structure your schoolwork, but at college you have to structure your whole life— waking up, working out, homework, classes, social life, self maintenance like haircuts and laundry and meals,” I said. “A lot of kids have a hard time managing at first.”
Because I didn’t want Greg to feel overwhelmed, I suggested he choose two things to work on. Wisely, he chose homework and getting up on time. When Greg and his family had been selecting a college we had made sure that each possibility offered a resource center with special tutoring for students with learning difficulties. Greg knew his school’s Study Center existed but had resisted going there, hoping to do everything on his own.
Now I reminded him that there was a place on campus that would help him get organized. “There’s nothing shameful about using it,” I said. “They didn’t build the center just for you. There are a lot of people who do better because of it.”
Greg agreed. “Half gone, half good,” he said cheerfully, meaning that the first half of the year might have been wasted, but the second half would be better.
His optimism was justified. He got a friend to wake him every morning, and stopped missing classes. He went to the campus learning center—and bumped into a girl who lived two doors down in the same dorm. He’d been wanting to get to know her. Suddenly going to tutoring became a social thing.
Gradually Greg created the same social network that had enabled him to flourish in high school. At the end of his first year he sent me a card with a photograph of two men and a bear, pushing on the back of truck stuck in the mud. Underneath it was a quote from Ashleigh Brilliant: “The best thing about needing help is that it’s a good way to meet people.” Once again, this great kid had overcome his difficulties by building on strengths.