education

Declaring Indpendence, Patch’s Turn

By / December 19, 2013

Tomorrow Patch and his 5th grade classmates are meeting in the library to declare independence from their teacher. She’s been being very unfair to them lately. Deliberately so, since she is teaching them a unit on the American Revolution and wants to have a discussion about how it is sometimes important to declare “no more” and stand up for principles. So tomorrow they’re all signing a declaration of independence and refusing to go to class until the teacher accepts it. Then they’ll all have a Christmas party. I’m sure the teacher will be quite relieved, because she’s been sending emails to parents telling us what she’s doing and how she hopes it will play out. When Gleek went through this experience with the same teacher, they had their revolution on Thursday prior to Christmas break. This crew tolerated things a little bit longer, but then the teacher threatened the Christmas party. So tomorrow will be an exciting day. Then after that we’ll get to have a breather from school, which will be lovely for all of us.

Patch’s High Intensity Schooling

By / October 22, 2013 / 7 Comments

I chose the school program that Patch is in with my eyes open. It is a gifted program, academically accelerated. Since it is an opt-in program the teachers ask a lot of parents in the way of support. In making the choice to put Patch and Gleek into the program two years ago, we weighed a lot of factors and ultimately decided that this was the best possible one. Even though it would sometimes be hard and other times it would be harder. So I choose this. I’m not sorry I did it. I know that it is still the right choice for our family. But I’m still going to complain a little.

Monday an explorer story was due. In order to write this story, Patch had to read a biography about the assigned person, include three try-fail cycles, have at least two characters, one character required to be native, and feature the major geographical landform for which the explorer was famous. Pretty exacting, but doable. Particularly since we’ve known about it all month. Patch was assigned Louis Hennepin, about whom no one has ever written a biography. Hennepin is usually a footnote or paragraph in books about La Salle. So we checked out an encyclopedia of explorers where Hennepin was mentioned more than once. Patch wrote a two page story.

Tomorrow the explorer game is due. This is a board game based on the story. It must have a map, the major landform, give information about the landform, and information about the explorer. Playable by 2-4 kids. Patch likes this sort of assignment, which means I did not have to do nearly as much work as I expected. Mostly I helped make sure all the information things went into the game.

Two projects in a month is fairly standard for this class. Usually there is a lighter one in the first half an a bigger one for the second.

Next week Booko is due. This is bingo filled out with books that Patch has read. Since he enjoys reading, all we have to do is make sure he can get five in a row. This month was Mystery, poetry, 900s book, Beehive award book, and Story collection. Then there is a book report on the genre of the month. These book reports can be anything from shooting a video commercial to bringing in treats based on the book. It isn’t hard, it is just a project we need to remember to get done.

Next week is also Halloween. The kids are requested to wear costumes based on characters from books. This is one way for the teacher to acknowledge that Halloween has become tricky ground for 5th graders and to give them all a socially acceptable excuse to still dress up. But, putting together a costume is an additional project.

Then there are the regular rounds of spelling, math, writing etc. Most of which Patch can accomplish in 20 minutes or less on a daily basis. If Patch pays attention to homework and projects for an hour per day, he can definitely keep up. No problem. In fact he has enough hours to spare that I sometimes feel guilty over the quantity of time he plays video games.

Guess who has to make sure that hour per day happens every single day? Most days I’m fine with that. All I have to do is nudge and Patch goes and gets his work done. The projects require more focused attention. Which is hard to come by on a day like today when I’ve spent all of my energy making sure all of my own projects are being moved forward. Add to that the impending end of term on Friday, which means making sure that Link and Gleek are on track. Which they are, but Link also has about an hour of homework each day and half the time he needs me to participate in some way. I suspect that I’ll be able to back off as the year progresses, but for now, this is how it is.

It is a lot, all of this school support. Yet when I think about what my kids get to do, I know I’ve chosen right. Patch got to make a game. He got to write a story. Later in the year he’ll participate in writing a declaration of independence, write and perform an opera, and a hundred other amazing things. Those things would not happen for him without this high intensity program. The idea of doing such things on our own is attractive, no grades, no pressure, but the truth is I would never get them done. I am far too pressed by projects to voluntarily pick up more. I have as evidence the past few summers when my children did almost nothing academic because I was too busy with business things and with being so very glad to rest a little bit.

So, the abundance of projects is driving me a little crazy this week. Next week will be better. By the week after that, many of the projects will have begun to clear. Just because something is hard, doesn’t mean it is the wrong choice.

School Culture Matters

By / October 11, 2013

“I really thought I would be bullied more.” Patch told me as we were curled up for his bedtime snuggle one night. “Being in the A.L.L. program for smart kids, I thought I would get bullied, but I haven’t. I wonder why that is.” Patch’s voice was mildly puzzled as he mused on this topic. I curled my arm around him a little tighter and thought how grateful I am that this has been his experience. I could have said that, and it would probably have been the end of the conversation, but I’ve been trying to do a better job of helping Patch pull his thoughts and emotions out where we can both see them, so instead I asked.
“What do you think it could be?”
“Well, It could be that my school is a good school and doesn’t have bullies. Or it could be that all the bullies have other people they pick on that are not me. Or maybe I just don’t act like a smart kid.” Patch paused a moment for thinking. “I think my school is a good one.”
I nodded my head in the dark. “I agree. What do you think makes your school be a good one?”
“I don’t know.” Patch answered.
It was important for Patch to see the whys of how his school has few troubles with bullying. It all has to do with the culture that has been consciously created at his school.

The importance of school culture became apparent to me when Patch and Gleek attended a previous school. It was a good school, close to home, and full of caring and attentive staff. Then the long-time principal left and took half a dozen of the best teachers with him. The new principal meant well, I could tell that he did, but over time it became apparent that he did not understand behavior modification and sociology. Every policy change and every letter sent home pounded out the importance of safety, rules, and good citizenship. He instituted reward programs for good behavior which then necessitated clearly defining “good behavior” in a series of rules lectures. His policies also emphasized the consequences for those who were not being good citizens of his school. The net effect was to teach the kids to police each other and to watch for infractions. All of this occurred at a time when Gleek was struggling with impulsive behaviors. She knew the rules, she wanted to follow the rules and be rewarded with good citizen slips, but in a fraction of a second she would choose wrong and suddenly discover that she was in trouble. As the new culture solidified, I could tell that it was increasingly hostile to Gleek.

Fortunately we had the option to test our kids for a gifted program, A.L.L, that would transfer them to a new school. Gifted programs have problems of their own. Many times the culture in such a program is one of high expectation and pressure to perform adequately. I approached cautiously, but then I did some research into the school where my kids would attend. I looked at a letter to parents from each of the principals. The old school principal’s letter outlined some new rules and clarified programs designed to manage problem behaviors. The letter from the new school talked about a reading program and was focused on learning. The new school hosted not just a gifted program, but also several classes for autistic kids. The “Life Skills” classes were as integrated into the school activities as possible. This meant that the teachers and staff were teaching tolerance of differences on a daily basis. Older classes had weekly reading buddy sessions with younger classes. We decided to make the switch, not realizing what a godsend it would prove to be.

In Gleek’s sixth grade year, anxiety overcame her. Her impulsive behavior turned inward, to be a constant fear she would do things wrong. It is probable that the high intensity of the academic program was a contributing factor, but the largest reason for it was the hormonal surges of puberty. She began having panic attacks at school, to the point where she would curl up into a non-responsive ball on her classroom floor. Sixth grade is a rough age, kids are changing and generally react by ridicule and avoidance of things that make them uncomfortable. But Gleek’s class was reading buddies with severely autistic kids. They had been taught how to understand and deal with odd behavior. I still remember walking with Gleek to her classroom after she had been out for several days due to anxiety. We were greeted, by kids, with smiles and statements like “we miss you Gleek, when will you be back?” Because of that accepting classroom full of peers, Gleek was able to come back instead of feeling like her anxiety had destroyed all hope of social connection.

The culture of a school matters. It permeates classrooms and the lives of children in them. We were very fortunate that we were able to switch from an (unintentionally) hostile atmosphere to one that was exactly what we needed. We survived the year before I was able to switch by paying close attention to what the school culture was teaching my kids and acting to alleviate it. I’m afraid we deliberately undermined the citizen slip program, teaching our kids that we cared about them being good people, not about them bringing home prizes. I made private deals with teachers about how to handle Gleek’s impulsive behaviors. Even in the much better culture of the second school, I still paid attention. Many of the lessons of public school are taught in the hallways, lunchrooms, and on the playgrounds. How the staff handles those situations makes a world of difference. Thus my panic attack girl was not ostracized, and my gifted program son has not experienced bullying in his elementary school. I wish more school administrators had a full comprehension of how to build such healthy school cultures.

(Also relevant to this post Strategies for dealing with a bully

The Necessity of Battles

By / September 23, 2013 / 2 Comments

I don’t like confrontation. I never have. In my growing years I went to great lengths to avoid conflicts and try to make everyone just be happy. I was in my mid-twenties before I realized that sometimes the fastest way to “everyone happy” is to wade right through the middle of a conflict. Because some conflicts can’t be avoided. Trying to avoid them sends you in circles until you end up right back at the same conflict; like Winnie the Pooh circling in the foggy woods and ending up right back at the sandpit. It just looks a little different because you came at a different angle. I learned to be strong and to be what my children often call “mean.” It is part of the parent job.

Truthfully, the beginning of this school year has been fine. We had a lot to sort, particularly with Link. He had to face the fact that he will have homework and we really are going to require him to do it rather than having him excused from it via his disability. Getting Link to accept these things required me to sit with him for four hours until he wrote a journal entry. Then it required me sitting for two hours while we plowed through some history questions and got them done on time. Then I had to sit him down and make him do two writing assignments in a last minute crunch so that they were on time. Link was mostly cooperative, except for that inner part that wanted to avoid the work. We have now done one of each type of assignment that is likely to be required of him this year. No more big surprises. We have a plan in place to track the assignments. We intend to do at least one hour of homework each day, working on long term assignments if short-term ones are done. The goal is that he won’t have to put in hours on the weekends.

Today Link sat down cheerfully. He worked steadily. Then when the hour was done he said “I like this. I still have time to relax.” Yes. And now he sees it. Before we had the big homework battles and the last minute crunches, he would have seen the one hour of work as a daily drudgery. I knew that about an hour per day was what was needed, but he could not or would not see it. In the wake of the epic homework sessions it seems like a reprieve. Sometimes we have to have a battle so that we can see how good things are when the struggle is over. Sometimes we create the battle by trying to avoid something which really is not very hard to do.

I’ve seen the same thing with other kids in other situations. I set up requirements, restrictions, and boundaries. Then I have to hold firm while the kids wail and flail for a bit. Sometimes they get very mad at me for a time. Afterward they accept. Even further after that, they begin to see benefits and understand why I had to set things up that way. They begin to realize that maybe they enjoy having the house clean, maybe they like doing homework an hour per night instead of in a stressful mad scramble just before due date, and maybe Mom does have a clue sometimes.

Of course the hardest part is that I doubt myself in the midst of the battle. That part of me, which just wants to make it all better and wants to make everyone happy, will fight me just as hard has my child does. Sometimes I can clearly see that what I’m doing is necessary. Other times I waffle, waver, and am not at all sure. It can feel like such a mess in the middle of it. I gave in a lot during early years. I trust myself more now, but it is still hard. In order to learn to trust myself, I had to be willing to face the battles. I had to walk through the hard part and come out the other side so that I could see that making someone upset is sometimes the very best thing for everyone. I had to see that my attempts to avoid conflicts were very like Link’s attempts to make homework go away by ignoring it. Nothing went away, it just piled up. Much better to face things and manage them a little at a time.

I suspect that, like Link, this is not the last time I’ll have to learn this lesson. Though hopefully I’ll learn more quickly each time around.

Public School Resources for Parents of Special Needs Kids: Elementary Edition

By / September 21, 2013 / 4 Comments

Preface: The information in this post is based upon my interactions with the Alpine School District in Orem Utah. Other states and countries will have different resources and regulations about those resources. You’ll have to check locally to find out what can be done, but hopefully knowing what is available elsewhere will at least arm you with good questions to ask. This listing is incomplete. Each child has unique challenges, each school presents unique possibilities and barriers. All that is intended here is some basic knowledge of where to start.

First some tips for dealing with school personnel

Assume that they are competent.
They may not be, but starting discussions with the belief that any difficulties can be resolved by calm discussion puts you in a much better bargaining position. People are not helpful when they feel belittled or defensive.

Gather information before making demands.
Be sure you fully understand the school, the teacher, the administration, and the potential roadblocks. Once you do, pick the crucial needs and start with those. Be willing to compromise on the non-crucial needs. If you try to force a plan that does not work for the school staff, then that plan is doomed to fail.

Keep your emotions in check.
You may be furious or upset, but putting school officials on the defensive is not likely to result in a better outcome for your child. I swallow my frustrations all the time if it allows me to achieve an important goal. What matters is helping your child, not venting your emotions.

Listen.
Many of these teachers and staff have been at their jobs for longer than you’ve been raising your child. You are the expert on your child. They are the experts on what works in the classroom and school setting. Most of the resources I’m going to list, I learned from helpful school personnel.

Respect their time and effort.
Any adaptation that they make for your child represents extra time and effort on the part of school staff. Even if they are required by law to make those adaptations, be grateful for it. It is still a gift, and thanks are appropriate. Also, human beings respond to positive reinforcement. The child with gracious and thankful parents is likely to get just a little bit more kindness than one whose parents are not.

People at your school who can be your allies:

The teacher.
This person is your front line and your most important ally. Often if you can build a good rapport with the teacher, you don’t need much other intervention because you solve many of the problems in the classroom. But rapport is not guaranteed. Sometimes the teacher has to be worked around instead.

The principal.
This person sets the social tone for the entire school. You may or may not have dealings with the principal directly, but still pay attention. The principal has some veto power over what can be offered to your child. We once chose to switch kids into a different school because of the social environment a principal was creating, even though he meant well.

School psychologist.
Every school in Alpine District has one. She’s likely only at the school one day per week, but she exists. She is the one who schedules additional testing and performs much of it. Additionally, she can do in-class observations of your child to see what might be working or not working in the classroom. She can see how your child behaves when you are not there and can report if there is something amiss with the teacher/child relationship.

Resource teachers.
These range from reading and math specialists to speech therapists. Your child will only work with these teachers if they have been tested and demonstrated an additional need. Once you have access to these teachers, they can be additional allies.

Yard duties.
These are the people who watch the playground at recess. Sometimes they are teachers, other times they are separate personnel. Either way, they may have observations about your child in a different environment than the classroom. Depending on your child’s issues, talking with the yard duties may be very helpful.

School nurse.
All local elementary schools have one, though she is usually only present one day per week. If your child’s needs include medical issues, you’ll need to communicate with the school nurse.

Office secretaries.
These people are the front line for many issues that come up at school. They help your child if he gets injured. They dispense medicine according to doctor’s instructions. They see almost everything that happens at school.

Testing and Diagnosis

When my kids were young I was afraid of doing anything that would get my child “labeled.” I was reluctant to pursue testing or diagnosis, believing that we were better off just trying to address the issues we saw, rather than declare what the issues were. I have come to believe that the value of diagnosis greatly outweighs the possible negative consequences of being labeled. Diagnosis is your friend. Really.

I have encountered school personnel who misunderstood, or did not comprehend. I’ve met some who meant well and thought they were helping but who were doing the opposite. I have never met a single one who was dismissive of a diagnosis. I’m sure such people are out there, but I’ve not encountered them yet.

I’ve been through a full diagnostic process for a child four different times. I’ve been through testing more times than I can count. Every single time it has given me more information about what my child needed. The diagnoses shifted information in my head and opened up new paths to help. I did not expect that. I thought that diagnosis closed off possibilities, when it did the opposite. Diagnosis was always an emotional process and grieving was part of that, but afterward we were far more able to move forward.

If your fear of being labeled is strong (or your school has demonstrated a tendency to pigeon-hole labeled children), then there are private means to pursue testing and diagnosis. You can then decide what to share with the school. A good resource for private help is to contact your local college or university. Be sure you get recommendations, because private diagnosis can be expensive and not all providers are good.

Locally I recommend contacting the BYU Comprehensive Clinic (cc.byu.edu 801 422-7759) They did a full work up and testing on Link when he was six. I don’t remember how much it cost, but I know it was not very much for what we gained. More recently we had Gleek diagnosed through a private clinic called TAPS that works out of the Clear Horizon’s Academy. Full diagnosis there cost around $750. University of Utah, Wasatch Mental Health, and Primary Children’s Counseling Center are also places to check.

Diagnosis and testing through the school does not cost the child or the family, though it does cost the school district. You can request testing and I believe they are required to provide it upon parental request. You may get push-back from school personnel if they don’t think your child needs it. They are unlikely to be willing to devote school resources to testing unless significant issues have manifested at school which impact your child’s ability to learn, or which disrupt the classroom for other students. Often they don’t realize that testing is an option or they just don’t think about it.

We have had the following testing done through school resources:
Social and behavioral skills testing
Motor skills testing
Speech and language testing
Auditory processing testing
Psychological evaluation
Psychological in-class observation
IQ tests
Testing to compare academic achievement to grade level expectations
I’m sure there are others I’ve forgotten or missed

Making a Plan

Often the results of testing and diagnosis are useful information and can help you form a plan with your child’s teacher. That may be all that is necessary, though you’ll have to continue to form plans with new teachers each year. If the difficulties are ongoing, or if your child needs additional school resources, then making an official plan through the school is probably a good idea. Locally we have two types of educational plans:

504 Plan.
This flags the child as needing extra help in the classroom and defines exactly what sort of help must be provided. For example: one of my daughter’s friends is legally blind. She has a 504 plan stating that she must be seated at the front of the class, that people must read her tests to her out loud, and that she may use special equipment to help her see. Any sort of diagnosis which impacts education, and which will not go away, merits a 504 plan. I think this can include requiring an in-class aide, but I’m not sure exactly how that works. Link qualifies for a 504 due to his Auditory Processing Disorder and his ADHD (he actually has an IEP instead, I’ll get to that next) Gleek would also qualify for a 504 plan, but she does not currently have one because at the moment she’s getting straight A’s and thriving at school. The moment she needs something the school does not automatically provide, I’ll brandish her diagnoses and get a 504 plan for her.

IEP (Individualized Educational Plan)
This includes everything in a 504 plan, but also outlines what additional resource or educational help that the child might need. In elementary school Link had one of these to provide him with speech services and then writing resource help. Part of setting up this sort of plan is setting goals for what needs to be achieved with the child that year. Over the years Link had goals relating to conversation, speech, writing, and social interactions. He met with speech therapists for learning to communicate clearly and with writing specialists for the same. One year he even had an in-school play group where the school psychologist taught social skills over board games.

For both kinds of plans you meet at least once per year with the teacher, the principal, and any resource teachers. During that meeting you evaluate how things are going and set new goals for the coming year. You can call an IEP meeting at any time if the current plan is not working. One of the values of an IEP or 504 plan is that it stays with your child even when the teacher changes. It is supposed to help provide continuity of support across school years. The purpose and importance of both IEP and 504 plans shifts dramatically on entering junior high and high school, but that is a topic for a different post.

To conclude:
You are your child’s best resource, but you can’t do it alone. Hopefully some of this information will help you acquire a team to help you and yours.

Accomodations for Link in High School

By / September 12, 2013 / 3 Comments

When Link was in first grade his teacher had a system. When kids needed to complete work at home, she had them put the work into their cubby. Each day the kids were to put the contents of their cubby into their backpack. Link was not very good at that last part. In fact he discovered that if he just left all his papers in his cubby, then Mom knew nothing about the papers. It was a great system, he’d not finish work at school, stick it into his cubby and then it ceased to exist as far as he was concerned. Life was great. Then one day his older sister decided to pick him up from class rather than meeting him at the car. She saw the cubby full of papers and the day of reckoning had begun. Mom made him complete all of the papers over the next week, AND she conspired with the teacher so that she could know every day if school work was completed at school. Link was cornered in a way that meant the easiest way out was to complete the assigned work. Suddenly he started working. We’d found the right solution and the road blocks to learning vanished.

I’m thinking about this today because I just met with Link’s history teacher and discovered that Link has a pile of incomplete work for that class. Writing assignments are never his favorite and this particular teacher talks a mile a minute, which is difficult for Link to follow. His instinctive reaction is to stop and try to wait it out. Fortunately at sixteen he is far more self-aware than he was at six. I’m able to make him a partner in the solutions, some of which sound a lot like “Yup, that’s tough. Deal with it.” The other solutions involve figuring out where in the teaching/learning process things are breaking down. Also I have to help the teacher understand that “Why didn’t you write anything on the quiz paper?” is actually quite a complex question which requires my son to introspect and then form thoughts into words. He wants to answer, but needs more than thirty seconds to figure out what that answer needs to be, because before she asked the question he hadn’t put any thought into the issue. Taking the quiz felt impossible and sorting is necessary to figure out why. Then maybe the next quiz will be possible.

Link’s teacher wanted to see his IEP paperwork and to know what accommodations are on it. I’m not really sure in detail. I’m confident that they are tailored to what was necessary in junior high, but will have to be revised for high school. I know they include his auditory processing disorder and his ADHD. I’m only now beginning to see what might need to be on the paperwork for high school. The teacher quite obviously felt at a loss without it. She wanted a check list “do this, this, and this, then you will have helped this student.” Only we’ve always used the IEP as a sort of fluid guideline and mostly worked with specific teachers to find solutions for individual classes. In one class he doesn’t need any help at all, in another we have to spend lots of time making things work. Most of the difference is in the relationship that Link has with the teacher. If Link feels relaxed and comfortable in a classroom, he doesn’t need help. When he gets stressed, he shuts down, stops working. Unfortunately I can’t put “don’t make him stressed” on the IEP paperwork. I can include “speak slowly,” “face him when you talk,” and “write down all his assignment instructions” Yet I know that even when these things are on the paperwork some teachers will adapt and do them without trouble. Other teachers will intend to do them, believe they are doing them, but they aren’t.

All of which is why I’m meeting with school administration tomorrow morning to discuss rearranging Link’s schedule. A few changes could make a world of difference. We may have to remove him from the class of a generally excellent teacher because that teacher does not have the right rapport with him. This, of course, lead me to worry that I’m over-helping. Growth comes from struggle. Link needs to learn how to keep going in spite of mental road blocks. He needs to learn more flexibility when he doesn’t like the form of an assignment. He needs to learn to recognize when he is avoiding work and consciously decide to do that work anyway. He needs to learn to turn assignments in on time instead of constantly doing them late and being allowed to get away with it because his IEP allows him extra time. I can see Link beginning to learn all of these things. He is amazing and smart, but I know that if the learning is too hard, then his tendency to shut down will kick in.

This is why I’m not going to tomorrow,s meeting with a list of things I want. Instead I’m going with a list of thoughts and options. I’m going with a hope that additional perspectives will bring out even more possibilities. Somewhere there has to be a good balance between accommodation for Link’s real disabilities and requiring him to do hard things so that he can grow. And it is entirely possible that I’m wrong about what he needs to learn and how he needs to learn it. That wouldn’t be a first. I’m still learning, trying to figure out this parenting thing. I would dearly love to find the right combinations so that the road blocks vanish and Link can just go.

Settling In and Defining the Shape of What is Next

By / August 23, 2013 / 6 Comments

It is amazing how quickly things begin to feel normal.Yesterday was our third day of school schedule and our first full day with Kiki at college. Mostly it felt normal. Okay, I was very tired because I had an anxiety attack at 11:30 pm the night before. I was also paying extra attention to both Link and our cat since they appeared to be the most unsettled by Kiki’s absence. But I just followed my list of things and by bedtime I was having a pretty good feel for how things are currently going.

Howard: on track to have his work lined up the way he needs so that he can disengage the work brain and switch over to convention brain.

Kiki: Had a long-ish text conversation with her yesterday morning. She was a bit lonely and at loose ends. Things got better for her later in the day when there were scheduled events and she met a potential new friend. She is still very much in transition and I’m remaining ready to help and support through the start of classes next week, because we don’t know yet how it is all going to settle out.

Link: Is going to have a rough start. He misses Kiki. High school is big, different, loud, and chaotic. The homework load is heavier than he is used to and the teachers expect more. I’m going to have to hover and be pretty hands-on for the first while. This was about how Kiki reacted to high school, but I didn’t see it until she was completely overwhelmed. I’m hoping to do better for Link. We’re meeting with a couple of teachers today. The good news is that once Link knows what to expect and what is expected of him, he is the kind of person who just settles in and does the work.

Gleek: Thinks junior high is the best thing ever. She has locker decoration plans, book reading plans, and has begun singing snatches of choir songs at home. If we’re going to have stress and trouble, it isn’t likely to set in for another month or two. It’ll be triggered either by homework or by social things.

Patch: Also has settled in well. He’s at the same school and doing work that he watched Gleek do two years ago. The one bane of his existence is the teacher’s insistence on cursive writing. It is going to be another month or two before stress starts to show for him too. He seems to have the roughest times in January/February, so I’ll keep an extra eye out for him there.

Me: Still scrambling to make sure all the pre-convention tasks are complete. They mostly are. I’ve also been quite busy doing all of the assessing listed above. I did not volunteer for a singly thing at any of the schools. Maybe I’ll be able to later when things have actually settled instead of just begun to settle. I also didn’t buy the big bag of tulip bulbs that tempted me at Sam’s club because I’m not certain when I’ll find gardening time. I spent one day weeding about a month ago and haven’t had time since.

All in all, I think it is going to be the end of September before we really find our stride for this school year.

Before the Beginning of School Anxieties

By / August 4, 2013

My children look to me to create the rhythms of their lives. They do not watch clocks, they wait for Mom to call them for lunch. Sometimes they pay attention to calendars, but usually only when there is a holiday or birthday to anticipate. In the summer they are even cast free of the school schedule, each day shaped very much like all the rest. I watch clocks and calendars. I track appointments and set alarms. Which is why I am very aware that school starts in only two weeks. On August 19th the changes that have been roiling and causing anxiety since last February will solidify. We will have things to deal with instead of things to worry about. But we are not quite there yet and I’m not looking forward to the moment when the kids figure out how close we are to that day. When they do, there will be emotional reactions and I don’t know what shape those emotional reactions will take. In fact part of my brain is convinced that one or more of the kids will melt down into major anxiety which will snowball causing stress and emotional upheaval for all of us that won’t resolve until sometime in October.

It is possible that the kids aren’t the ones I need to worry about with the before school anxiety. In fact all current evidence suggests that I am the one who is going to be stressed and fretting during the next two weeks. I’m already there. And I am trying very hard not to signal any of my anxiety to the kids. We’re not going school shopping. I haven’t scheduled before-school-starts haircuts. I’m not trying to do a few last outings before the summer is gone. As much as possible I would like this week to be summer-as-normal. Next week is soon enough for all the other things.

Prayers for the Coming School Year

By / July 17, 2013

It is too early to be thinking about the coming school year. Yet taking Kiki to her college orientation filled my head with concerns and fervent prayers for what is coming.

May my college bound Kiki quickly adapt to her new habitat, let her find friends who are enough like her that she feels comfortable, and enough different that her horizons broaden. Let her learn her own limits and discover she is stronger than she expects. Let her miss home enough to call once in a while, but not so much that she can’t embrace the newness that college has to offer.

May high school bound Link learn how to navigate a new social environment which involves hanging out with girls and listening to what they have to say. Let him find friends and places where he feels fully himself, even if he is surprised to discover that he is different than he thought he was. Let him find ways to be kind and of service to others because that always makes him happier.

May junior high Gleek be stressed enough to bring out some of her anxiety so that we can help her learn strategies to manage it, but help her not be so stressed that those anxieties overwhelm her. Let her find friendships in unexpected places, but avoid the notice of insecure peers who are seeking targets. May she use her strength to defend others and help her school be a friendlier place.

May Patch learn to manage elementary school without an older sibling there as security. Let him find his own inner strength and self confidence. Help him know that making mistakes is not the end of anything and learn to change his plans when the world does not go as he expects.

May all of us here at home adapt to having Kiki gone, with the younger kids stepping up and learning new responsibility. Yet let us always be ready to make space for her to return.

Change is coming, there is no way for us to adapt to in in advance, so may we rest this summer and adapt quickly when the time comes.

Pondering the Months to Come

By / May 6, 2013 / 1 Comment

The school year draws to a close in just a few weeks. The teachers from my kids’ elementary school have begun sending home notes with the last lists of things to accomplish before the year ends. I am glad, because this year has exhausted me. I’m ready for it to be over. Yet I haven’t been feeling joy when contemplating the end of the school year and today I figured out why. It is because the school year is not the end of those things that have been most difficult in the past few months. I’ve got three kids in transition and that process can not be complete until they are settled into their new schools next fall. The cessation of school is not the end, it is a pause. This thought is somewhat discouraging. I’d like to have a sense of completion, tying things off so that we can start fresh in late August. Instead I’ll just pack away many of these thoughts, store them while we manage months of summer conventions, family events, major shipping, and everyone being home all day. Then the thoughts will come back to me, unresolved, needing attention. This was my experience last year and I expect it again.

Summers were so long when I was a kid. They are far too short now. I’ve spent lots of time toggling through the months on my calendar and pondering what is to come. It doesn’t feel calm to me until sometime in November, because that is the point when we will have completed all the current things to do. Then the kids will be settled. The conventions and shipments will be done. Except November will be cold again. I don’t want to skip ahead to cold. Also, life does not calm down in November. Ever. That is when the holiday craziness kicks into gear. My life is going to be crazy for years to come. I chose this when Howard and I went full time with cartooning. I chose this when we decided to have four kids, who are now beginning to launch themselves in different directions rather than moving as a family unit. It is messy and crazy, but I’d pick this life over almost any other one that I was offered. This is an important thing to remember when it all feels impossible.

The other thing to remember is that each day offers me spaces. There are quiet moments to savor, flowers in bloom, warm outdoor air, and sunshine. Yes, the rest of May is one long task list. Yes, June is double booked every weekend and a whole week in the middle. Yes, August is week-long convention followed by week-long convention with dropping a child at college sandwiched in between. But July is almost empty. I keep skipping over it when I’m toggling my calendar, discounting the spaces there because of what comes before and after. I’m a little afraid to hope for calmness in July, as if I’d rather be surprised to find it instead of using the hope of it to get me through. Mostly though, I need to stop looking so far ahead. I can not solve June today. Instead I should focus on this week and the empty spaces between me and Storymakers conference on Friday. My life is not as crazy as my stress would sometimes have me believe.