“He’s reading at a first-grade level now,” I informed the pediatrician, anxiously awaiting her reaction.
“What?” she exclaimed, her face reflecting both surprise and concern. “He’s ten.”
I took a moment to collect my thoughts, resisting the urge to remind her of his age. “Two years ago, he was at a preschool level, so he has really made two years’ worth of progress in that time,” I explained, expecting her to acknowledge this milestone.
She did not.
Our discussion shifted to the various options available for dyslexia interventions and the quest to bring him up to “grade level.” I left feeling a heavy sadness for my youngest son, who exerts so much effort yet never seems to feel it’s enough.
I understand why he feels this way. Learning disabilities can be incredibly deceptive.
The doctor, well-versed in dyslexia and learning differences, understands the implications of his IQ tests and learning profile. She recognizes the stark contrast between his exceptional abilities in some areas and his significant delays in others. Even so, she was astonished that after over two years of educational therapy and daily instruction, he could only read “Hop On Pop” on his best days.
I empathize with her surprise. Learning disabilities can be so misleading.
To my astonishment, the doctor stated, “Given his needs, the school system will struggle to provide adequate support. You might eventually persuade the district to fund a special private school for him, but that process could take years, and I’m not convinced it would be suitable for him either.”
I silently contemplated my own dilemma but chose not to voice it.
Learning disabilities are indeed tricky.
Returning home, I felt drained and burdened by the weight of it all. I left the appointment with valuable advice on what steps to take next, for which I am grateful. Yet, I also feel fatigued by the continuous struggle. It seems we are racing towards an arbitrary finish line defined by grade level.
Grade level means little to my children.
My eldest reads at a college level but struggles with even basic sequential tasks, while my youngest is ahead in history and science but couldn’t read the word “said” yesterday. I am aware that grade level is not a reliable measure. Still, I yearn for it. I desire faster, more straightforward progress. I long to respond to inquiries with a simple, “Yes, they are at grade level,” and to avoid the uncomfortable conversations about accelerating their learning.
Each morning and night, I feel that familiar panic: “Am I doing this correctly? What more can I do? Am I failing them?”
My children are not mere statistics or projects with deadlines. While achieving grade-level expectations would be convenient, it is often unrealistic. More importantly, when I consider who they are becoming and what will ultimately matter in their lives, the specifics of reading levels and math standards become trivial.
Today, instead of fixating on the progress yet to be made, I choose to celebrate my sons’ achievements. I will focus on the computer my son built independently in less than two hours and the joy my younger son felt reading a book, regardless of its title—“Step 1 Ready to Read.”
Today, I commit to doing my best for my children and…I will not chase after an imaginary finish line.
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In summary, it’s essential to recognize that each child’s learning journey is unique, filled with diverse achievements that go beyond mere grade-level expectations.