August 25, 2006
I know I said I was all done talking about school, but apparently I was wrong
I went to the parent open house at Henry’s school last night, and once again found myself weeping. One day, I hope to attend a parent night at school and NOT cry. It’s a small thing, but we have to start somewhere.
I love Henry’s school. I loved Henry’s school last year, too, and I loved the school the year before THAT, but every year the love has been tinged with worry. The first year it was typical mama-worry, about how he would adjust and if he would fit in; last year it was a larger worry about how he was functioning during the day. The worry never stops, but in the past year and a half it has often overshadowed everything else.
I have tried not to worry this week. I have tried to take at face value Henry’s claims that he likes his new school, his teacher’s assurance that he is very bright, the fact that he has not once said he doesn’t want to go to school. I have cleaned counters and cooked and done laundry in order to halt the worrying. But I have worried.
Henry says, “I’m doing my HOMEWORK!”
Last night, the headmaster described the school’s mission, which is specifically designed to reach out to quirky kids like my son. Henry’s teacher talked about how his class spends their day, about the reading and writing workshop approach they are using, about how they are teaching math, about how children are encouraged to work at their own pace and are able to work ahead if they are ready.
I learned that Henry’s schedule is the same every day. I learned that he has three (THREE!) recesses and PE every day. I learned that the kindergarten class (all nine of them) and the first grade class (all SIX of them) are together for a large part of every day. I learned that in this multi-grade, multi-age class, children are grouped by ability rather than by the abstracts of age and grade, and that they work together in small groups every day.
I learned that Henry is a special group of kids who need help with their pencil grip, and that they are using a program called Handwriting Without Tears. I learned that there are five kids in this group and that they are practicing drawing circles and lines. I learned that golf pencils will help encourage Henry to hold a pencil correctly, as will breaking his crayons in half.
Every time I start to feel like I have a handle on being Henry’s mommy, every time I start to feel like I have stretched myself as far as I can go and I just can’t do this any more (and I bounce between those two feelings, of success and failure, on an almost daily basis) I have a moment where I am reminded of how much I don’t know and how much help we need to raise this child. Unfortunately, for the past six years, Wade and I have been the experts, the ones who know what Henry needs. Except we don’t, really, in the larger sense; we are not experts on nonverbal learning disability or ADHD or Asperger’s or sensory integration. We’re just his parents and it has been exhausting to try to learn everything.
I love Henry’s school because they really ARE experts; they have strategies and tools and facilities and specialists right there on the campus, for Henry to take advantage of. But more than that, I love this school because they don’t have any sense of drama or catastrophe, or any notion that there is something “wrong” with kids like Henry. The headmaster talked about how much the faculty love the kids, “more so on some days than on others,” he joked. I like a school with a sense of humor.
Maybe they can help me get mine back, so that the next parent open house won’t end with me weeping.
Posted by Susan @ 10:55 am • Uncategorized
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August 25th, 2006 at 11:48 am, Liz Says:
You have to stop writing about school — you keep making me cry!
It sounds like Henry is in the perfect place for Henry — so you’ve done an excellent job finding that place for him. Congrats.
August 25th, 2006 at 11:55 am, Susan Says:
Liz! Someone has to cry with me! Otherwise I just feel like a big dork!
I promise, no more crying. Sheesh.
August 25th, 2006 at 1:02 pm, bubandpie Says:
What a wonderful school. You just have to love a place that has a program called “Handwriting without Tears” (I could use a program like that myself, actually).
I’ve been reading The Karianna Spectrum at ClubMom about Kari’s son being expelled and it was filling me with despair at the horrors of school. Thanks for proving that there’s hope!
August 25th, 2006 at 2:02 pm, slackermommy Says:
Sounds like a great school. I have quirky kids too. My oldest has Tourette’s, ADD, OCD, CAPD, and EFG. Okay I’m kidding about EFG, I just hate describing her this way. My second daughter has sensory integration issues and my son needs “Handwriting Without Tears”. For the life of me I can’t get him to hold a pencil correctly. I totally relate with your post and like you I’m just trying to figure it all out.
BTW your son looks darling.
August 25th, 2006 at 2:35 pm, Kristen Says:
This is how we feel about Bryce’s school. I’m so glad you found this for Henry. We might always need expert help with our kids, but Henry is very fortunate that he’s in a family who is 1.) aware of that and 2.) willing to do what it takes to acquire it for him.
August 25th, 2006 at 2:48 pm, MamaChristy Says:
They may be the experts on the syndroms and what not, but you will always be the expert on YOUR child. Good for you finding him the best school for him right now.
August 25th, 2006 at 3:28 pm, M&Co. Says:
Susan, are you suggesting that we aren’t suppose to cry and worry and expect phone calls and cry when they say something nice to us. Cause. Uh huh.
August 25th, 2006 at 3:50 pm, Daring One Says:
That school kicks! I am so glad you’ve found a place like that. I think all children should go to a school that looks at their individual abilites to that degree. Do you ever get jealous for Charlie?
August 25th, 2006 at 4:13 pm, Susan Says:
You know what’s funny? I think Charlie’s school is the perfect place for him, even though it is entirely different from Henry’s school. Today he told Leslie, “I LUUUUUUUVE my school.” And he does.
And Christy, you’re right about parents being the experts on their children. I feel like this school is a place where they will listen to what we know about Henry–about what he is good at and what he struggles with–and they will give us ways to help him succeed. It’s a huge relief, even though it is not any less work or worry. I just feel less like we’re out here on our own now.
You’re all so smart and kind! Let’s hug! And maybe cry a little!
August 25th, 2006 at 4:23 pm, Velma Says:
I am so jealous. Not of the crying, because I get plenty of that myself, thanks. But the schooooooool! (Can you hear the whine in my voice?) Wow. I’m so impressed with what you have shared so far - it sounds like the perfect place for your boy!
August 25th, 2006 at 4:45 pm, Tara Says:
To find a school whose mission is to help quirky kids, let them learn at their own pace, give them predictable scheduling and plenty of time to decompress at recess…..I must be dreaming!!!! I predict that Henry will be a STAR in this school! My fervent hope is that more schools like this will fill the overwhelming need that exists for these kids.
August 25th, 2006 at 7:01 pm, Misfit Hausfrau Says:
The school sounds amazing! I am so glad for Henry and you that he is there.
August 25th, 2006 at 7:53 pm, Granny Says:
There is such a thing as crying for joy. Just to realize someone knows what your child needs (other than your love of course) and is able to provide it should be an occasion for tears.
You are no longer alone.
August 25th, 2006 at 8:11 pm, Sheryl Says:
Wow! what a great place to learn :o)
August 25th, 2006 at 9:02 pm, Em Says:
I’m so pleased that you’ve found the perfect school - it sounds like an amazing place where Henry will be nutured and respected for who he is.
I have two quirky kids (for different reasons) so finding a perfect “fit” with regards to their schooling has not been straight forward. I know that feeling of worry only too well.
August 26th, 2006 at 2:19 am, Karyn Says:
I *knew* our Henry’s were too similar to not have something actually in common… mine has Asperger’s / ADHD / OCD / possibly O.D.D. (and no I’m not calling him ‘odd’). I’m glad for your treasure find of a school and hope we can do as well. The broken crayon thing prevails here as well.
You’re nobody’s dork; you’re a hero!
August 26th, 2006 at 8:21 am, Candace Says:
Yippee! Now, here’s a tissue and a glass of wine.
August 26th, 2006 at 8:52 am, boogiemum Says:
I am so happy for you all that you found such a great school. I totally agree that children need different things and respond diffrent ways to methods. My step daughter has been in 3 schools since K and I am still not sure yet if we found whats right for her. Usually just when we think we found the school something will happen and make up realize we were wrong.
August 26th, 2006 at 4:25 pm, Kelly Says:
What a great school! How on earth do you go about finding a place like that, a school that seems like a perfect fit? I dread the day when my twins will be off to school, still four years away. I have no idea how to make sure their needs are being met. And I know I’ll be a blubbering fool on the first day of kindergarten.
August 26th, 2006 at 6:06 pm, The June Cleaver Diaries Says:
Susan,
When I was doing school-based OT, I exclusively used Handwriting Without Tears, and I loved it—- so did the kids. It really works!
August 26th, 2006 at 10:25 pm, Jenorama Says:
I wish I had Henry’s school. Sam cried the first day because he didn’t have the right notebooks. Christian cried because I hadn’t filled out all his paperwork and his teacher gently reminded the class to get their papers in.
Sigh.
August 26th, 2006 at 10:34 pm, Cmommy Says:
I’ll cry with you!!! Wow, I would LOVE to visit this school and see the day in full swing. Can I visit you as a ‘field trip’?!
I met most of the parents of my 36 preschool students the other night; I’m wondering now if anyone left in tears…:-)C
August 27th, 2006 at 2:13 pm, lildb Says:
I don’t know how to phrase what I’m feeling. But I think it sounds trying, and exhausting, this continual worry that you must carry for your son. And I hear. And hope that the worry, as well as the need for it, will abate at some point (in the nearer, rather than later) future.
hug.
August 27th, 2006 at 2:17 pm, Susan Says:
Thanks, girls. You’re all so kind.
That’s all. Where’s my kleenex?
August 27th, 2006 at 7:56 pm, Melissa Says:
Those sound like happy tears. Good, cleansing, stress-relieving, happy tears. Good for you.
August 27th, 2006 at 8:36 pm, Mary Tsao Says:
That school sounds wonderful. I love the part about the Handwriting without Tears and the small pencils. That’s brilliant.
Here’s to a wonderful year with few tears — no matter what the reason.
August 28th, 2006 at 3:10 pm, michele Says:
Wow - this is the first time I’ve read about a kid like mine. We still don’t have a NAME for it, but he definitely has a major learning disorder. It took me all last year to get the principal to NOT expel him, and then get him tested. FINALLY someone listened to me. He’ll have three occupational therapists this year and a counselor on top of his regular 1st grade class. Thank goodness we finally found some people willing to help us. I’m gonna steal the word, “quirky.”