But the Cheese Is White

One of the reasons I talk about my son’s struggles on this blog is to try to raise awareness.  Awareness to decrease judgment.  Awareness to decrease fear.  Awareness to increase understanding. 

Today, when picking Aiden up from school, I knew that I needed to inform him as soon as he got in the car that we were going to stop at the educational store down the street, how long we would be there, and exactly what we would be doing (5 minutes and buying a cursive workbook he requested, for the record).  When he was outside in the yard and saw me take a plant out of the window to water, he came to the window and started knocking, Sheldon Cooper style (Google Bing Bang Theory TV show if you don’t know what I’m talking about!), and after the 20 seconds it took me to get back to the window I had to calmly point out, once again, that I would be right there in a few seconds, there is no need to keep knocking like that.  As I handed him his dinner, I explained that the cheese on his burger was indeed cheddar, it was just white cheddar, no need to worry.

Why?  Because I know my kid.  I know how the slightest bit of change in schedule or feeling like he does not know what is going on or that he can’t have mom immediately when he needs her freaks him out.  How it causes anxiety.  How it can create a miserable evening.  How there is something in his brain that just misfires.

And a particular event at school has made me even more determined to raise awareness.  The children with “accommodations”, aka 504 plans or IEP’s get pulled out to a separate classroom for standardized testing (known as FCAT here).  Those particular children, this week, are taking their tests on other than the scheduled days.  The scheduled days that are emphasized to everyone.  And no one told them or their parents ahead of time.  What do you think that does to a kid who has a problem with eating white cheese instead of yellow?  It sets them up for more failure.  And shows me that the need for understanding is huge.

And that’s why I write.  And when the frustration is overwhelming, that is why they have wine!

Killing with Kindness

There is a reason there is a phrase “killing with kindness.”  It means exactly what it implies.  Per the American Heritage Dictionary of Idioms, its definition is “overwhelm or harm someone with mistaken or excessive benevolence.”

Notice that word, “harm.”  The correct response to everything is not kindness.  Perhaps the politically correct response is, but not always the helpful response.

Negative feelings serve a purpose.  You are SUPPOSED to feel bad sometimes.  And honestly, you really can’t appreciate the good feelings without the bad.

There was an online newspaper article today about some adults (30’s and 40’s) who decided to steal some beer from a convenience store and then speed off into traffic on a busy street.  DECIDED.  Note that word, it’s important.  In their flight, they crashed into a wall, and 3 died and one is in the hospital.

Some of the online comments on the article really disturbed me.  Comments that there should be nothing negative said about this because no one deserves to die.  That one was a mother.  That “each and every one of us” does stupid stuff like this.  That we just need to be NICE about everything.

We don’t have to be KIND about every situation.  Does anyone deserve to die, I don’t know, but each and every one of us will.  And some of us make decisions that make that happen sooner.   Being a mother does not excuse bad decisions, it makes them worse.  We don’t all do stupid stuff like this.  And last but not least, this is not stupid, it is CRIMINAL. 

Do I feel sympathy for the children of the mother who died?  Of course, no one wants to lose loved ones.  Do I think that saying that what their mom did is normal, acceptable behavior is going to help them to be responsible adults?  HELL NO! If someone’s parent died of lung cancer, do you hand them a cigarette and encourage them to start smoking?

If one of the people involved in this crime was my son, I would be sad.  I would be sad because I love him and would miss him.  I would be sad because I would feel I didn’t do a good enough job as a mother.  But honestly, the word “dumbass” would cross through my mind among everything else.  And if other people called him that, they would be correct.  And I would hope that dumbass behavior would be a lesson to many other people.

Sometimes kindness can kill. And then we have to deal with the aftermath. And that’s why they have wine.

No Child Left Behind

No Child Left Behind.

What does that mean to you?  I bet it means something way different to you than to the people who make the laws for the school system.

To me, it means that everything possible will be done to help every child learn.

To the schools, because of the current legislation, it means “We will teach your child what is on the FCAT, and teach them test-taking strategies, so we look good.” 

No Child Left Behind might as well be called “The Biggest Bullshit Ever Told To Parents.”  Trust me.  I have the child “left behind.” 

In Kindergarten, the teacher called me in to say that he seemed to have some physical developmental problems.  I agreed, and she said she would submit him to be evaluated.  Two weeks later, was told he didn’t meet the qualifications too.  6 years later, my 11 year old has been determined to have the fine motor skills of a 5 year old (thus his problems cutting and coloring in kindergarten, not to mention his current illegible writing!)…but he didn’t meet qualifications? 

Every year since, it’s been clockwork.  In March, I’m told he might fail.  Ok, then if he needs to fail, fail him.  And give him the services he needs. Every year he is pushed through, and just treated like any other student.  Several different times I’ve re-requested evaluation.  Several different times I’ve been denied.

Last year, he finally had a teacher who was behind me, who encouraged me to get him evaluated privately and helped me by filling out papers for the doctors.  From those private evaluations, which I had to pay for myself and the school should have done years ago, I had the ammunition in the way of a medical diagnosis to fight for a 504 plan, which he got.  However, he was doing even worse in school, so I once again requested evaluation. He needs an IEP.  And was put off.  Again. 

I got the letter on Thursday that he was going to be retained in 6^th grade.  The day before his last day of after-school tutoring.  The last day of after-school tutoring because FCAT’s start Monday.  The last day of tutoring because all that matters to the school is FCAT scores.  To me, I see it as the last day of tutoring because no one actually cares about the students, just their scores.

No Child Left Behind.

Ha!

If I had to do it all over again, I’d have purposely been a bad parent.  One that let my child misbehave and cause problems in school.  Because those are the kids that seem to get the attention.  If you are good and not a problem to anyone, you are left to the back of the line.  At the end.  In the rear.  BEHIND.

And that’s why they have wine!

So, How Do You Deal?

So how do you help a kid deal with a possibility of failing a grade in school, and still have them feel OK with themselves?

I feel like life is in re-run time.  We went through the same thing last year.  Teacher conference to let me know he had a high possibility of failing.  Strategies to help him (which aren’t always followed through with on the other side).  Me telling him I love him no matter what grade he is in.  Worrying, crying, from both of us.  Last year we got to the acceptance level.  Then he got his report card and we both had to read the “Promoted” part about 50 times to believe it.  And that just makes it harder to go through again.

FCAT’s are next week.  For a child in 3^rd grade or higher, it’s the thing that determines your near future.  For a kid with learning disabilities, it’s the thing that makes you wish there was no future.  My child in the last week has been very clingy, emotional, and has almost seemed to regress in maturity.  And he’s been denying anything is bothering him, until today.  This morning, 30 minutes after school started, I got a phone call.  He was in the clinic with a stomach ache.  No fever.  No other symptoms.  I asked to talk to him and determined he had heartburn.  Told him not to eat the “hot fries” in his lunch box and go back to class.  Welcome to the real world, I had heartburn too!  This evening we had a good talk.  He is so worried about failing, and he knows it’s a real possibility.

UGH!  He shouldn’t have to be welcomed to the real world yet!  He’s only 11.  11 with the maturity level of an 8 or 9 year old.  He doesn’t need this stress.  Neither does his mother, but that’s another story. 

If all goes well, he will be attending a private school next year.  A school that mixes kids in different grade levels according to their abilities.  A school where no one he is in school with now would realize he failed, if he does.  But to him, that doesn’t matter.  He is so afraid of disappointing HIMSELF! 

I’ve told him I love him no matter what grade he’s in.  That school is for the purpose of learning particular things, and if it means having to hear it twice, then there’s nothing wrong with that.  That if he doesn’t understand things at a certain level, it’s better to repeat the grade until he does or he’ll just fall farther behind (which is where the badly named ‘No Child Left Behind’ really fails and leaves kids behind, but I’ll leave that for another blog!).  That having to go through 2-3 teachers in a year for EVERY class is not his fault (UGH, again another blog!  How can any kid excel in those circumstances?).  That his grades do not reflect his intelligence, not at ALL.

He still cried himself to sleep. 

Yet another reason there is wine.  I need some more.