“He’s reading at a first-grade level,” I told the pediatrician, holding my breath.
“What?” she replied, a mix of surprise and concern crossing her face. “But he’s 10!”
I took a moment to gather my thoughts, choosing not to respond to the obvious remark about his age. “Well, two years ago, he was at a preschool level, so really, he’s made two years of progress in that time,” I explained, hoping she would recognize the achievement.
She didn’t.
Our conversation quickly shifted to various dyslexia interventions and getting him to “grade level.” I left the appointment feeling disheartened for my youngest son, who works so hard but often feels inadequate. It’s easy to understand why he feels this way; learning disabilities can be quite deceptive.
The doctor, experienced in dyslexia and learning differences, understood his IQ and learning profile. She was aware of the stark contrast between his gifts in some areas and his delays in others. Yet, she still seemed taken aback that, despite two years of educational therapy and daily support, he could only read “Hop On Pop” on his best days.
We also explored the options between traditional schooling and homeschooling. I used to think he would benefit from being in school for the necessary interventions. However, the doctor surprised me by stating, “Given his unique needs, the school system would struggle to provide adequate support. You might eventually manage to get the district to fund a special private school, but that could take years, and I’m not convinced it would suit him.”
So there I was, grappling with the reality of learning disabilities. I returned home exhausted, burdened by the weight of it all. While I appreciated the helpful guidance I received, I was also tired of feeling like we were racing toward an arbitrary finish line marked “grade level.”
Grade level doesn’t hold significance for my children. My eldest reads at a college level yet struggles with basic executive functioning tasks. Meanwhile, my youngest excels in history and science but struggled to read the word “said” just yesterday.
I know I shouldn’t use grade level as the benchmark for their progress, but part of me still longs for it. I wish our advancement could be quicker and more straightforward. I yearn to confidently tell anyone who asks, “Yes, they’re performing at grade level,” and avoid discussions about how to hasten their progress. The anxiety creeps in, filling my mornings and nights: “Am I doing this right? What else can I do? Am I failing these kids?”
They are children, not equations or projects with deadlines. As convenient as it would be for them to meet grade-level expectations, sometimes it simply isn’t feasible. More importantly, when I reflect on who they are becoming, what truly matters for their future, and how they can be successful adults, the reading levels and math standards fade in importance.
So today, instead of fixating on the progress we haven’t achieved, I choose to celebrate what my sons have accomplished. I focus on the computer my son built on his own in just two hours. I revel in the joy my youngest showed while reading a book, regardless of its label: “Step 1 Ready to Read.”
Today, I commit to doing my best for my children. This means recognizing and accepting them as they are, irrespective of any grade level.
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In summary, moving away from the anxiety of grade levels allows for a more fulfilling perspective on my children’s achievements and personal growth. Rather than focusing solely on benchmarks, I choose to celebrate their unique journeys.