Another lost day

We’ve been vortex’d…..again.  And, looking at the weather forecast for Minnesota, there is more bitter cold on the way for next week.

While many people are cheering because there is no school today, I am filled with anxiety and sadness.  Today was the day I was going to sign the paperwork to allow #3 to get tested by his school.  I’ve been asking for action since September (actually, I’ve been asking for attention since September of his kindergarten year), paid a large sum of money to a private tester, had meetings, phone calls, e-mails, written a letter, more phone calls, supplied the classroom teacher with information about dyslexia, had other conversations…..and finally I had broken through.  I’ve been asking for a team to sit down and discuss #3 since December.  And now, near the end of January, I was finally given the opportunity to share my opinions and sign a paper that brings all this to the next step, getting #3 closer to the education he deserves.

And now….it’s cancelled.  The process has frozen.

Perhaps it will be rescheduled for next week.  Maybe the week after.  The entire time I hear the clock….tick, tock, tick, tock….and see time wasting away.

1st grade is half over.  #3 has made very little progress.  He doesn’t have weeks, days, or even hours to waste at this point.  I see the other kids in his class making progress, while he stays at the same exact level he was at in kindergarten.  The gap becomes bigger by the day.  Education matters.  School matters.

I can see the future.  I’ve been here before.

He will be tested…eventually.  Results will be questioned.  There will be more meetings….but after spring break.  There will be a lot of head scratching.  I will have a lot of tears.  At some point its the end of April and I’m told, “Maybe we should just put something really minimal in place and figure it out next year.”  Summer school will be suggested….because if the approach didn’t work for 9 months, let’s try it for 2 more!  That sounds logical.  At this point I will lay my head down on the table and ask someone to wake me up when its all over.

How many other children are out there needing school to be in session?

How many other parents are filled with dread because of the lost days?

Time for me to focus on things I actually have some control over.

 Today #3 will weave potholders,

build with legos,

and perhaps make cookies.

And pray for warmer weather.

 

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Small Steps

This is my second winter attempting to skate ski.  Each time I head out to the trails I filled with anticipation, excitement and an ample amount of dread.  Last weekend I was out on a local golf coarse skate skiing with #1.  For awhile he was behind me and I would randomly hear (I’m sure there was some reason for it….but to me it was random) commands such as:

“Mommy, V1!”

“V2!”

“I said V2!”

“V2 Alternate!!!! Mommy….are you listening?  V2 Alternate!”

Quickly #1 became frustrated with me and I heard him coming up to my side.  He looked at me and mutters, “Do you realize that you are supposed to put your poles down at a specific time and not just randomly?”  He then takes off fast enough to insure I do not catch up to him.  Mothers are already really embarrassing when you are a 7th grader…they are infinitely more embarrassing when your mother is clueless and flailing on skis…in public…with other people around…that you know.

#1 showing some speed around a curve.

When I’m out on my skate skis I’m literally just trying to continue some sort of forward momentum, making sure my poles don’t actually hit my skis, praying I don’t have a heart attack, and wondering what crazy person invented a sport where you are supposed to glide up a hill on long slippery sticks.  Trying to figure out what my poles are supposed to do based on the terrain and speed completely overwhelms me.  I have enough things in my life that frustrate and challenge me, why am I taking on a sport that is so frustrating and challenging?

This is me….struggling up a teeny-tiny slope, I can’t even call it a hill.  
(It’s OK if you laugh at the horrible form.  It’s truly awful.)

This week Gabrielle Giffords had an inspiring editorial in the New York Times, “The Lessons of Physical Therapy.”

In it she write, “It’s gritty, painful, frustrating work, every day. Rehab is endlessly repetitive. And it’s never easy, because once you’ve mastered some movement or action or word, no matter how small, you move on to the next. You never rest.”

This is how I feel so often raising three children with dyslexia.  The moment I feel like one child is on the right track I turn my head and realize that another child needs more support.  When I spend time advocating at one school, I realize I haven’t talked to the teachers at another school enough.  If they aren’t struggling on a writing assignment, there is a large history project, or a science fair project, or a book report, or a spelling list….   When I feel like I’ve made some progress with advocating for #3, I realize just how much more I have to overcome in order to get him the help he deserves. When one small thing is mastered by one child, I don’t get a break, I move on to the next challenge without a pause.

It’s overwhelming.  It’s daunting. It makes me want to crawl back into bed.

However, Gabbie Giffords goes on to talk about how her resolve to achieve great things with her physical therapy are a bit like her resolve to achieve great things with gun control.  She writes:

“Our fight is a lot more like my rehab. Every day, we must wake up resolved and determined. We’ll pay attention to the details; look for opportunities for progress, even when the pace is slow. Some progress may seem small, and we might wonder if the impact is enough, when the need is so urgent.

But every day we will recruit a few more allies, talk to a few more elected officials, convince a few more voters. Some days the steps will come easily; we’ll feel the wind at our backs. Other times our knees will buckle. We’ll tire of the burden. I know this feeling. But we’ll persist.”

Do a little more each day.  Wake up determined.  I love this.  It can be applied to so many challenges we face in life.

When raising children with dyslexia it’s very easy to get bogged down and overwhelmed by the big picture.  There are so many roadblocks to success.  Schools don’t help.  Teachers aren’t trained.  Administrators are overwhelmed with other problems.  There is no funding. Blah, blah, blah.

I can’t solve all the problems surrounding educating dyslexic children in one day.  But I can do something each day to make a difference in the lives of my children and hopefully make the path easier for others in the process.  In 2014 I’m resolving to do 1 thing each day to learn more, advocate, or help someone effected by dyslexia.  Before I know it, if I continue to work hard, and continue to gain allies, there will be enough change that it has made a difference in the lives of children with dyslexia.

And in the meantime, I’ll focus on being able to skate ski without my knees knocking together.  The poles…and all that V-something stuff…will need to wait.