On a drive to Aitkin, MN, the other day, I was disheartened to see the leaves. I mean, I know it’s coming—I know fall is on its way and this far too short and sporadic summer is almost over—but it just doesn’t feel right. It’s hard to believe that Fourth of July is already over and Blues Fest and Tall Ships, and all those little things we use to mark our summer.

Most unbelievable I think for me is the  idea that we are on the threshold of yet another school year. I don’t think we have even cleaned out backpacks from last year yet. Ha—no we are not super lazy, it’s just that traditionally my kids on the last day of school tend to hide their backpacks deep inside of their closets, and this year it honestly feels like that was just yesterday.

Last school year was basically a wash for us. My kids missed a chunk of school with the death of my mom and then all of us trying to figure out the “life” thing again. It really put school on the back burner. It’s unfortunate, but I think people who have gone through life-changing loss like that can understand that you just get a different perspective for what you actually care about. My heart was into nurturing my kids through grief and keeping them fed and clean and rested.

That was the extent of importance—just to survive it. And on top of that, when they were in school, issues regarding my son would continually arise.  He became very overwhelmed with the whole “learning” thing. He would come home and literally yell at me, “I don’t need to know more stuff!” I mean, it was first grade, so I sort of understand, plus you see those posters everywhere: “Everything I needed to know I learned in kindergarten.” See? So I kind of could see where he was coming from. He also discovered complicated love last year.

There was the sweet little blond elvish-looking girl on the bus who stole his heart from day one... and then mid-year came the dark-haired stranger that he explained he thought “would make a good wife” as she shared her sandwiches... and all of that complicated emotion confused him.

Not to mention the fact it was the first time in his life he had ever mentioned marrying anyone other than me!! (Heartbreak...) My son is a brilliant little mind and he’s so creative and imaginative, but the school thing for him has just always been a bit of a struggle, as was daycare and preschool.

I was always stumped that he had such a hard time sitting in a class and learning or listening. He never gets excited about school, or even really tolerant of it. This is such a switch for me, as my daughter absolutely thrives and always has.

She’s truly a sponge—she soaks up learning and experiences and making friends. So then along came my son, and of course you think it’s all going to be the same, but that is certainly not the case. But this concern is not mine alone. Many moms I talk to with a son and a daughter mirror my own story.

The daughter is moving onward and upward, and the son—just isn’t. I think this is a huge social problem and I think I know why. For so long, since I was little, society has put so much effort into “empowering girls.” Take your daughter to work day, special school clubs for girls and their self-esteem, curriculums seemingly tailor-made to how a girl learns.

All of this is great and wonderful, but I feel like somewhere in the mix, somewhere in all of this need to help girls, we lost touch with the little boys. They got left behind. And you want to know teachers’ and doctors’ ideas of explaining this? Well, they created this crazy big thing called “spectrum disorders.” Do you have any idea how many little boys are being labeled with a disorder? It seems that the answer for little boys who don’t learn in the traditional school system is that the kid must have a problem. But that simply just isn’t true.

My son alone has been diagnosed within the span of his seven years as once on the autism spectrum and then a few years later as ADHD. Really? Can you get any farther apart than autistic and ADHD? The very definitions and symptoms of the two are polar opposites. How can one child be both? He can’t. Bottom line is that my son, like many other little boys, doesn’t fit into the patchwork routine because he’s not ever going to learn like a little girl.

He’s not going to sit with his hands folded at his desk and say yes ma’am and no ma’am. He’s a little boy! He wants to move around and play. He wants to learn. But not like that—not cooped up for eight hours like a little business person.

I really hope something happens in our school systems and society in general where we take a good hard look at the fact that while it’s very important to feed our girls’ self-esteems, we also need to feed our little boys’ souls. Don’t label them with a disorder—figure out why this is happening and learn to teach them in ways that work for them.

That being said, this year I’m hoping to put a different spin on things. I’m going to be my son’s greatest teacher. While he is attending school, I’m no longer going to depend on them to really teach him things as well as I can. If no one else wants to look at him as he is—a little boy with just as much ability and thirst to learn as any kid—then at least he has me, and I will. He’s not going to get left behind on my watch. I just hope other moms with little boys do the same. It’s a big world to only have our girls to go out in it.