“I think he’s reading at a first-grade level right now,” I told the doctor, my heart racing.
“What?” she exclaimed, a mix of surprise and concern on her face. “But he’s 10!”
I paused, biting my tongue to hold back the snarky remark about how I already knew 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, convinced she’d acknowledge the improvement.
She didn’t.
Our conversation shifted to various dyslexia interventions and how to get him to “grade level.” I left feeling disheartened for my youngest son, who puts in so much effort yet never feels like it’s enough.
I completely understand his feelings. Learning disabilities can be quite elusive.
The doctor is knowledgeable about dyslexia and learning differences. She understands the nuances of his IQ testing and learning profile, as well as the disparities in his abilities—gifted in some areas, yet significantly delayed in others. And still, she struggled to comprehend how, after over two years of educational therapy, he could only read “Hop On Pop” on his best day.
I see why she feels that way. Learning disabilities can be tricky.
We discussed whether he should attend school or be homeschooled. I once believed that being in school was essential for getting the necessary intervention. I’ve since learned otherwise, but I was taken aback when the doctor said, “Given his needs, the school system wouldn’t be able to help him effectively. You might eventually get the district to fund a special private school, but that could take years, and I’m not convinced it would be a good fit for him either.”
This left me pondering my dilemma but I held my tongue. Learning disabilities are, indeed, quite sneaky.
Returning home, I felt exhausted and burdened by the weight of it all. I left the appointment with valuable advice, for which I’m grateful, but I’m also tired of it.
It feels like we’re in some sort of race, with “grade level” as the finish line. But honestly, grade level means nothing to my kids. My oldest reads at a college level yet struggles with the simplest sequential tasks requiring basic executive function. My youngest is ahead in history and science, but just yesterday, he couldn’t read the word “said.”
I cannot measure them by grade level alone.
And yet, I find myself wishing for it. I want our progress to be quicker and more straightforward. I yearn for the day I can confidently tell anyone, “Yes, they’re at grade level,” and never have to discuss how to speed up their learning again. I dread the morning and night anxiety: “Am I doing this right? What else can I do? Am I failing my kids?”
My children are kids, not equations to solve or projects with deadlines. While it would be nice if they could meet grade level expectations, sometimes that’s just not feasible. More importantly, when I consider who they are becoming, what truly matters in their lives, and how they’ll find success as adults, the specifics of reading levels and math standards become far less significant.
So today, instead of fretting over the progress we haven’t achieved, I choose to celebrate what my sons have accomplished. I focus on the computer that my son assembled on his own in less than two hours. I admire the joy my little one felt as he read a book, rather than fixating on the cover that reads: “Step 1 Ready to Read.”
Today, I will do my absolute best for these children. That means recognizing them for who they are and embracing them exactly where they are, regardless of their grade levels.
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Summary
In this blog post, the author reflects on the pressures and anxieties surrounding educational grade levels for children with learning disabilities. Rather than focusing on deficits, the post emphasizes recognizing individual accomplishments and accepting children for who they are, regardless of their academic standing.