“I just found out he’s reading at a first-grade level,” I shared with the pediatrician, my heart racing in anticipation.
“What?” she replied, her expression a blend of shock and concern. “He’s ten.”
I hesitated, suppressing the urge to comment on her obvious awareness of his age. “Well, two years ago he was at a preschool level, so he’s actually made two years of progress in that time,” I explained, expecting her to recognize this achievement. She didn’t.
Our discussion shifted to various interventions for dyslexia and the goal of reaching “grade level.” I left the office feeling a wave of sadness for my youngest son, who puts in so much effort yet often feels it’s insufficient. I completely understand his feelings. Learning disabilities can be incredibly deceptive.
The pediatrician is knowledgeable about dyslexia and learning differences. She comprehends his IQ testing and learning profile, aware of the stark contrast in his abilities—profoundly gifted in certain areas while significantly delayed in others. Yet, she struggled to grasp how, after two years of dedicated educational therapy and daily practice, he could still only read “Hop On Pop” on his best days.
Her surprise was evident when she stated, “With his specific needs, the school system won’t be able 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 the right environment for him.”
I thought to myself, “You see my dilemma,” but I kept that to myself.
I returned home to my children, feeling drained and burdened. I had received valuable insights on what steps to take next, for which I am grateful. But I also felt overwhelmed. It seems as if we are running a race, with “grade level” as the finish line. However, that benchmark means little to my children. My oldest reads at a college level but struggles with basic executive functions, while my youngest excels in history and science yet couldn’t read the word “said” just yesterday.
I recognize that grade level isn’t a fair standard. Deep down, I want it, and sometimes it feels painful to desire progress to be quicker and more straightforward. I yearn to confidently tell anyone, “Yes, they’re at grade level” and avoid discussions about accelerating their development. The morning and evening anxieties creep in: “Am I doing everything right? What more can I do? Am I failing my kids?”
My children are just that—children. They’re not equations to solve or projects with deadlines. While it would be convenient for them to meet grade-level expectations, that isn’t always feasible. More importantly, when I consider who they are becoming, what truly matters in their lives, and how they will thrive as adults, the significance of reading levels and math standards diminishes.
Today, instead of fretting over the progress yet to be made, I choose to celebrate my sons’ achievements. I focus on the computer my son constructed independently in under two hours and the joy my younger child displayed while reading a book, appreciating his excitement over the title “Step 1 Ready to Read.”
Today, I will give my best for these children and refuse to race toward an imaginary finish line of grade level.
For those navigating similar challenges, this article from our other blog may provide valuable insights: Navigating the Journey of Intrauterine Insemination. Additionally, for further reading on the topic, you can visit NHS’s guide on Intrauterine Insemination, which is an excellent resource. Also, check out Make a Mom for expert advice on home insemination.
In summary, while the pressure to meet grade-level expectations can be overwhelming, it’s essential to celebrate the individual accomplishments and unique journeys of our children.