Last year G-Man started First Grade. At the first Parent/Teacher Conference his teacher (Mrs. D) and I discussed Gareth. I talked about my concerns and was both relieved and saddened to discover that they were not the paranoid imaginings of an overly-concerned parent. There was something up with my little lad.
The year continued and his testing progressed at a painfully slow pace, but eventually we were called for a meeting. This was it! We were finally going to figure out what was going on with G-Man! I woke up early on the scheduled day filled with a raging conflict of emotions. I was dressed and ready to go before I awoke anyone one else. I'm not sure my calm facade fooled my husband, but I think I at least didn't betray my nervousness to G-Man.
We met the Special Education Coordinator in the school lobby and were ushered into a room. Several people sat around a desk near a screen, one of whom was Mrs. D. I sat next to her, and my husband sat on my other side. They'd had us bring G-Man, but as the meeting progressed, I desperately wished they hadn't. There was so much talking about him and not to him. I was worried that he would pick up something and misunderstand the meaning. As it turns out, I had just cause for this concern.
What we were told was that G-Man was a genius with ADD. Every concern I had was swept under the Genius with ADD rug, whether or not that truly explained it. The tone of the entire interview was of a benevolent ruler placating her stupid subjects. They did make the concession that he was a little delayed in speech, so he would receive 40 minutes of speech each month (two 5-minute sessions a week) and that he would be given more time for tests in a "less stimulating" environment away from his peers. However, there were no plans for his obvious coordination problems, and no plan to pursue any other avenue. The ADD diagnosis was the first one, and the easiest: they didn't want to look elsewhere. I stopped asking questions when I was told that he would have a hard time reading. It wasn't even an answer to the question I had asked. I just shut up, quietly seethed, and left very frustrated.
The very next week was the last Parent/Teacher Conference of the year. As I sat down at Mrs. D's table, I wondered how to approach her about the diagnosis, but she beat me to it.The first thing she asked me was how I felt about the meeting with the Special Education Coordinator. I admitted my frustration and that I didn't think that it was right. I said it might be part of it, but not all of it. We spent the next hour (thankfully I was the last scheduled parent) discussing our concerns. In the end, I decided that during the summer, I would take him elsewhere and see if I could get a better answer.
I spent the rest of the school year trying to convince G-Man that he could in fact read despite the lady in the meeting saying he couldn't, attempting (unsuccessfully) to teach him how to tie his shoes, and searching online for something that seemed to fit his problems. Mrs. D continued to work with him, and he ended the year well.
Then summer came, doctors were visited, and the diagnosis was given: Dyspraxia.
G-Man has started school again, but this year, I was prepared. I made a brochure about Dyspraxia to take to Meet Your Teacher Night and copies of the doctor's diagnosis letter. I've already spoken to the Special Education Coordinator (new, thank Heaven) and arranged for reassessment with the Physical Therapest and an initial assessment with the Occupational Therapist. The Speech Therapist is going to continue with the 40 minutes a month and adjust according to his reactions.
Hopefully progress will be made. Hopefully G-Man will be taught the skills he needs to cope with this lifelong condition. If not, they'll meet this mommy dragon, and I'll flame anyone who tries to hinder my son's progress.
