Parenting challenges come in clumps. I’m not sure they actually arrive in clumps, but they definitely clump up while waiting for me to pay attention to them.
Link brought home a packet from his resource teacher. The packet tells me that it is time to run a bunch of new tests to see if Link still qualifies for special help. The thing is that Link does not want to be in resource any more. He hates to be pulled out of class because his 6th grade teacher is awesome. So now I have to decide whether to run the tests, or if it is time to let Link try flying solo. I’m inclined to let him give it a try, particularly if we make doing extra practice at home one of the conditions for being done with resource. The risk with this route is that my follow through with extra practice has been lacking in years past. I always have good intentions for helping him, but my plans frequently evaporate. On a related note, Link’s medicine is affecting him slightly differently this year. Or perhaps it isn’t, but he is noticing the effects more. I’m not certain there is a problem, but I’m paying attention to it.
Gleek spent 30 minutes curled up in my lap crying because she does not feel special. In her class there are several special needs kids. She sees the accommodations that are being made for them and wishes that her teacher would pay that much attention to her. It is hard to figure out how to comfort a beautiful, intelligent, strong, healthy girl who is crying because she is not blind, does not have a glass eye, is not deaf, and hasn’t even got any broken bones. My assurances that I would discuss things with her teacher were insufficient. She only cheered up a little when I promised to take her to the dentist to have her crooked teeth looked at. She is now hoping earnestly that she will get some type of retainer or mouth appliance since that will make her at least a little bit special. Her odds are fairly good. Some of her teeth are significantly crooked. I will then be faced with the challenge of paying for said appliance. (Which is why I had not pursued treatment sooner.)
Patch complains that first grade is long and has started crawling into bed with us nightly. At least we’ve solved the “chocolate milk at lunch giving him a rash” problem. I’ve started sending drinks in his back pack.
Kiki has discovered that she ended up with several teachers she does not care for. She is also discovering how uncomfortable it can be to be an attractive girl in a mostly-male wood shop class. She wants out of the class, but the deadline for class changes has already come and gone. I am making her write up a list of her concerns. I’ll go with her to present the list to the guidance counselor. It probably won’t get her schedule changed, but the counselor may have some suggestions to address the concerns. Even if the counselor dismisses the concerns, having the list will help Kiki and I form management plans. As for the rest of her schedule, I’m hoping that further experience with the teachers will help her understand better how to get along with them or get around them. The one thing she can’t do is slack off. We’ve entered the “colleges will look at this transcript” zone.
As per the title of this post, my brain is now tired. I think my heart is too.