I doubt very much it is something he CAN control, 67847...yet.
Poor little fellow, he must be deeply embarrassed.
I would take him completely away from his school, at least until he himself wants to go back...when and if he feels he is over the problem and confident he can handle the surprise and astonishment of the other kids, and the teachers.
Meanwhile, get his schoolwork sent to the house, and help him keep up, as though it were the most natural thing in the world for family to support his efforts in all areas.
I remember one incident of that when I was ten. Luckily, I was at home alone, and I made it to the bathroom in time. I am certain it was the flu.
I say 'luckily' because we were punished, or looked upon as 'bad' for natural disasters we couldn't control.
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And do some sleuthing on your own, quietly testing what he has been eating and other influences in his environment.
Get him a nice scribbler, and ask him to write anything he wishes to say in it...a private diary he shares only with a person he loves and trusts and wants to love him.
Be sure there is no reluctance or worry on his part. Exactly the right things he needs may come to him when he is writing in his scribbler...and his family wants to help and support him, without reservation.
We try so hard to 'guide' our children. Sometimes we pass on the idea that they are 'bad' in some way they can't understand.
'Discipline' is the word I least like in the English language. I never did understand it, even when it was being meted out to me. My dad thought he was 'supposed' to.
Children are born perfect, for them. Work with this little fellow to bring out the best he has to give. Do that with warmth and appreciation of what HE loves...gently introducing new and happy things of the world according to his level of understanding. He will appreciate you all his life for yours.
I was taking in a 5 year-old after his kindergarten class was over. He was delivered to me soiled one afternoon.
His brothers were all 8 years and more older than he, and he so wanted to be a 'big boy'.
I had never dealt with a soiled child before, except a baby, but I could see that he was shaking with fear and embarrassment. I thanked my lucky stars that my 2 or 3 year-old son was napping, and that he had clothes too big.
As matter-of-factly as I could muster, I got the soiled clothes off Michael, all the while softly explaining that sometimes a tiny bug could get in a person's tummy and make something like this happen, and that it was okay, and just needed a little cleaning up and everything would be fine, here's a warm cloth, you wash your privates, I'll just give your legs a wipe, here's a fresh towel, and that my washer would have his pants clean and dry quickly, and here's a pair of Robbie's, just for now, and would you like a warm drink? And we can read a book.
I mentioned to his mom, later, that he had a little accident, and that he had been very brave...where Michael could hear me. His momma understood.
I felt proud of myself that day.
In 1930, when my dear husband was 6, teachers tried to 'correct' a left-handed child. They tied his left hand behind his back.
When dh told his mom, she went storming to the school and told people off.
His hand was never tied again, but the damage had been done...he stammered so badly that he couldn't say his own name...until he was 10 and began to do boyhood things with the others.
Not long after that he built a canoe, by himself, and his momma named it the 'Cygnet' (a young swan). His bigger boat was named 'Cygnet II' when I met him in 1986. The first time we talked he said he was going to take me fishing. He did.
As an only child he built a crystal set radio to listen as he fell asleep. He became a radio-navigator transporting airplanes in WW II, and still loves radios and flying.
We never know where simple things will lead a child. Our best bet is to not fuss about unhappy things and disasters, and to appreciate and notice the things a child CAN do, giving them every opportunity we can, smoothly, quietly, and easily.
I am quite proud of the day my boy was bouncing a ball off the side of the house and I DIDN'T holler for him to 'knock it off'. You see, it just then dawned on me that someday I would wish he was 10 years old, and bouncing a ball against the side of my house.