Sunday, March 13, 2011

New adventure

There is something different about my baby.

I've known it since about halfway through her kindergarten year. That teacher was a year shy of retirement. She didn't see any problems. "She's fine." Are you sure? "She's fine."

Her first grade teacher said the same. "She's the youngest in her class. She'll catch up."

Second grade, same thing. "She's so bright and cute! She'll be fine. You don't want to hold her back, she'd be bored doing it again."

On to third grade. "You'd be surprised at this age. By the end of the year, most kids catch right up."

Four teachers passed her right on up to the next grade, and now in fourth grade, she's falling farther behind. And suddenly. She can't focus. She can't remember things. She gets frustrated. She climbs into a shell. She can't do what other kids can do, and she's never even realized it, and never even cared.

At nine-and-a-half years old, she doesn't know what Justin Bieber looks like. She watches Nickelodeon if her brother is home, but she prefers the Food Network. She comes home and tells me she has her homework done, she is sure, then we check, and it's not done. And she hasn't remembered to bring it home. She doesn't remember writing things down in her homework tracker. She doesn't know what her scribble even means.

Every week for the past few months, there have been failed tests to sign.

I spent four-plus years admonishing her, punishing her, yelling at her, screaming at her. I've cried in her face out of frustration. No 9-year-old should know the F-word. Mine has known it for a couple of years now.

She learned to rip notes out of her tracker from her teacher. She signed my name to a test. She's learned to write gibberish in her homework tracker just to get her teacher to sign off that she's "gotten it."

She's done this to keep me from screaming at her. AGAIN, ZOE? AGAIN???

She cries out in her sleep. NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO.

I've told people for five years now that something is wrong with her. I just sensed something is wrong. Her vision is fine, her hearing is fine, yes, I know. I don't think she is being bullied, but I ask anyway. She is the youngest in the class and they say she will catch up, yeah, sure. She is small for her age, maybe it's just a way to make up for it, mmmm hmmmmm.

But nothing is wrong with my baby. She can pick up an instrument and start playing chords in a few minutes. She can make art that an adult would envy. She is inquisitive and can tell you anything about the Statue of Liberty that you dare to ask. She is trusting and loving, and maybe a little naive, but she'd give you her favorite stuffed animal if she thought it would help you sleep. She gets nervous around new friends but thinks up ways to engage them. She is affectionate and creative, she can see things in ways that surprise me and always asks questions that catch me off guard. I don't doubt she is smart. Even brilliant in ways.

Nothing is wrong with my baby. She's just different.



A few weeks ago, I finally got it.

We started the process of testing for learning disabilities. I kinda laugh at that word. Once I realized it… once I got my stupid ass out of denial… I see so much of the good in her. I've stopped yelling. She's stopped crying in her sleep. I don't cringe when I ask about homework, I don't sweat it even. She has become more honest, and can start to identify that she is struggling.

We don't know what it is yet that makes her special, but GODMOTHERFUCKINGDAMMIT, I am not going to stop looking until I know how I can make up for all those years of yelling, teachers who made excuses, and lost time and affection.

There is something different about my baby.

She is awesome.