“I just found out he’s reading at a first-grade level,” I told the pediatrician, trying to suppress my anxiety.
“What?” she exclaimed, her surprise evident. “But he’s ten!”
I took a moment to gather my thoughts, deciding against pointing out that I was well aware of his age. “Well, two years ago, he was at a preschool level, so he has actually progressed two years in two years,” I explained, hoping she would acknowledge the improvement.
She didn’t.
Our conversation quickly shifted to various interventions for dyslexia and the quest to bring him up to “grade level.” Leaving the appointment, I felt a deep sadness for my youngest son, who strives tirelessly but often feels it’s never enough.
I completely understand his feelings. Learning disabilities can be tricky and elusive.
The doctor, experienced in dyslexia and learning differences, is fully aware of what his IQ tests and learning profile indicate. She understands the disparity between his exceptional abilities in certain areas and his significant delays in others. Yet, even after more than two years of educational therapy and daily practice, she couldn’t believe he was still only capable of reading “Hop On Pop” on his best day.
Her disbelief mirrored my own frustrations.
Then she surprised me further by stating, “Given his needs, the school system won’t be able to support him adequately. You might eventually get the district to fund a private school, but that could take years, and I’m not confident it would suit him.”
I thought to myself, “That’s my dilemma,” though I didn’t voice it.
Learning disabilities can indeed be so sneaky.
Returning home, I was exhausted, feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders. I left the appointment with valuable advice, which I appreciated, yet I also felt an overwhelming fatigue. It resembled a race where “grade level” is the finish line.
But grade level means little to my kids. My eldest reads at a college level but struggles with basic executive functions. My youngest excels in history and science but couldn’t read the word “said” yesterday.
I know I shouldn’t measure their success against grade levels, yet I find myself longing for it. I wish for their progress to be swift and straightforward. I ache for the day when I can confidently respond, “Yes, they are at grade level,” and never have to discuss how to accelerate their learning.
Every morning and evening, I grapple with panic: “Am I doing the right things? What more can I do? Am I failing them?”
But my children are just that—children. They aren’t equations to be solved or projects to be completed by a deadline. While it would be convenient for them to meet grade level expectations, sometimes it’s simply not attainable. More importantly, when I consider who they are becoming and what will truly matter for their future success, I realize that reading levels and math standards hold less significance.
Today, instead of fretting over the progress yet to be made, I choose to celebrate what my sons have accomplished. Rather than fixating on grade levels and perceived shortcomings, I will focus on the computer my son built independently in under two hours. I will cherish the joy my youngest felt while reading a book, ignoring the cover that reads, “Step 1 Ready to Read.”
Today, I’ll give my best for my children and refuse to chase an imaginary finish line.
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In summary, while the pressure to achieve grade-level benchmarks can be overwhelming, it’s essential to recognize and celebrate the unique strengths and accomplishments of each child. Progress is not always linear, and focusing on individual growth rather than societal standards can lead to a more fulfilling parenting experience.
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