Yesterday we had our annual ARD Meeting for our high school freshman. For the first time, Randy was present. I enjoyed having him interact at the meeting. I was pleased with his behavior; he was well mannered, respectful and sat up straight, legs under the table. He displayed self-confidence and answered all questions in an easy manner. He made direct eye contact with everyone he spoke to at the table and displayed his charming smile when appropriate.
We have come a long way since the first day, two and a half years ago, when I enrolled him in seventh grade. While we waited in the office, he sat slumped over in his chair with his head hung low, his legs spread and his hands over his face. He refused to make direct eye contact with anyone who spoke to him. I had to assure him everything would be fine; he would love his new school. He insisted he didn’t want to be there, to please take him home; he just wasn’t ready yet to start a new school. It was obvious Randy was in a great deal of emotional distress that day. I was aware of his learning disabilities. We hadn’t even had custody for twenty-four hours and he was displaying dysfunctional behavior over a natural occurrence, going to school. I remember thinking, uh oh; this is going to be a bumpy ride. For a long time it was.
In the course of the meeting, his counselor informed me Randy would be mainstreamed in two classes next year, geometry and chemistry. I felt my heart drop, just a little. Should I say something? Should I protest in front of him? I didn’t want Randy to think I had no confidence in his ability; on the other hand, I didn’t want him overwhelmed with the prospect of being mainstreamed into classes that might be too difficult for him. I asked him how he felt about the change and he told me it wouldn’t be a problem. I saw confidence in his demeanor; he really wasn’t worried at all. I, on the other hand, was very concerned. I mentioned Randy was doing so well where he was at and I would hate to see that change. The committee picked up on my innuendo and assured me Randy’s work would be monitored. I guaranteed them nobody monitors better than me, but I did appreciate the idea that he wasn’t going to be advanced with no support system in place. I fretted for the rest of the day and discussed it more with Randy when he came home from school, more for my reassurance than his. He was completely comfortable with the prospect of being mainstreamed in two classes.
Today I am better with the idea, I am actually beginning to look forward to next year and all the challenges facing our older child. This is his preparation for life, his advancement. Everything our children attempt eventually becomes more difficult. We start them on the road with simple tasks, as they grow the learning procedure becomes more challenging.
After stressing over the possibility of Randy’s failure if mainstreamed next year, I realized this was exactly our goal from the beginning. I had developed such a mind set with Randy’s learning disabilities, that I forgot for a minute that the whole purpose was to teach him to advance, at his best speed, and to compete with the rest of the world.
Although I didn’t have the pleasure of teaching Randy how to walk when he was a toddler or send him off to kindergarten the first day, I have been there for milestones since we have had him. I believe this is one of them. I am seeing Randy move from a nervous and shy little boy with very low self esteem because he felt stupid due to his learning disabilities (a direct quote) to a confident and happy teen who deals with his weak areas appropriately and realizes he has many strengths as well.