“He is currently reading at a first-grade level,” I told the pediatrician, holding my breath in anticipation.
“What?” she replied, a mix of surprise and concern crossing her face. “He’s ten years old.”
I took a moment to collect my thoughts, choosing to set aside the comment that had bubbled up about how I am, in fact, aware of his age.
“Well, two years ago, he was at a preschool level, so he’s actually made significant progress,” I explained, expecting her to acknowledge the improvement.
She didn’t.
Instead, our conversation shifted to various dyslexia interventions and the struggle to bring him up to “grade level.”
As I left the office, I felt a heavy sadness for my youngest son, who works tirelessly yet never feels like it’s enough. It’s easy to understand why he feels that way. Learning disabilities can be so elusive.
The doctor, well-versed in dyslexia and learning differences, fully comprehended the implications of his IQ tests and learning profile. She recognized the disparity of a child who is exceptionally gifted in certain areas yet significantly delayed in others. Still, she seemed unable to grasp that after two years of educational therapy and daily instruction, he could only read “Hop On Pop” on his best day.
When the doctor stated, “With his needs, the school system won’t be able to provide adequate support. You might eventually convince the district to fund a special private school, but that process could take years, and I’m not convinced it would suit him well,” I absorbed the gravity of her words.
“Thus lies my dilemma,” I thought to myself, but kept silent.
Returning home to my children, I felt drained and burdened by the weight of our situation. I left the appointment with valuable advice on what steps to take moving forward, for which I am grateful. But I’m also weary of it. It feels like we are engaged in an endless race with grade level as the finish line.
Grade level means little to my kids. My oldest reads at a college proficiency level but struggles with basic executive functions, while my youngest excels in history and science but stumbled over the word “said” just yesterday.
I know I can’t use grade level as my sole measure of success. Deep down, I recognize that I crave the linear progress that comes with it. I wish I could confidently respond to anyone who inquires about their progress with a simple, “Yes, they are at grade level,” and never have to revisit the conversation about how to hasten their development.
I want to eliminate the anxiety that grips me first thing in the morning and again at night. “Am I doing enough? What more can I do? Am I failing them?”
My children are not mere numbers or projects with deadlines. As convenient as it would be for them to meet grade-level expectations, sometimes that’s just not feasible. More importantly, when I consider who they are becoming and what will truly matter for their future success, the specific reading levels and math standards become less significant.
Instead of fixating on the progress we haven’t achieved, I choose to celebrate what my sons have already accomplished. I see the computer my son assembled in under two hours, all on his own. I focus on the joy my younger child radiated while reading a book, rather than the words on the cover that said “Step 1 Ready to Read.”
Today, I will do my best for my children, and I will not chase an imaginary finish line defined by grade levels.
For more insights and support on parenting challenges, check out our other blog posts at this link. If you’re looking for reliable information on pregnancy and home insemination, the CDC offers excellent resources here. And for those interested in home insemination kits, you can find more information here.
In summary, rather than focusing solely on educational benchmarks, it is essential to appreciate the unique strengths and achievements of each child. Children are not defined by grade levels; they are individuals with their own journeys.