Well, Ashlynn completed Kindergarten. It was pretty anti-climactic to be honest. For some reason, her school doesn’t believe in Kindergarten graduations. Okay, it’s not for “some reason,” it’s because the philosophy of the school is that graduations signify an end and Kindergarten is just a beginning.
I get it…kind of. Actually no, I don’t get it at all. If that were the case, we wouldn’t celebrate any graduation because technically every end starts a beginning. I don’t think that’s too philosophical. Whatever though.
It’s an odd thing. When I was younger, people flunked. I literally never hear that term anymore. Now that I’m in education, kids are “held back” or kids are “retained” or kids are “not retained” because they are in “special ed” and you don’t “retain” if a child is in “special ed.”
I received Ashlynn’s report card. When I was little, I LOVED that little manilla envelope. It was a little pocket that guaranteed me lots of praise from my parents….maybe even a trip to Dairy Queen.
I looked at it now in her backpack with dread. What would it possibly say? I know it didn’t say she flunked. She’s in special education and she won’t be retained. However, I know it didn’t say she was on grade level either. If that were the case, she wouldn’t be in special education.
Sigh
I debated not opening it. What does it matter?
I let it sit for awhile. I pulled it out, but didn’t open it. Instead I looked at the pages and pages of work sent home in her backpack that she had done from the Fall to the Spring. Progress. Amazing progress. Pages and pages of hard work rested under my fingers.
Math:
Really though, writing these numbers is not just math…it’s an occupational therapy success. Ashlynn has just as much difficulty learning to write because of motor planning difficulties, as she did to speak. Despite knowing how to write an S for awhile now because it’s in her name, she frequently writes a number 2. That’s just one example of many.
Drawing and writing:
As much as these pictures make me burst with pride…there is an underlining sadness….guardedness.
When I first started as an SLPA ( Speech/Language Pathologist Assistant), one of my supervising SLP’s showed me a book. The book described how children’s drawings correlate to IQ.
The above pictures show Ashlynn’s progression. Before I had Ashlynn, I didn’t realize picture drawing could be a measure of disordered motor planning and NOT IQ…as in her case. That last picture is after intense intervention.
This last graph looks impressive right? It IS impressive. However, it represents the “sight words” Ashlynn learned throughout the year. When she started, we were still working on identifying uppercase letters, so she made progress on that…but yeah…sight words are going to take a back seat. She is still abysmally behind where she should be….but if one considers where she has come, it is impressive.
Ashlynn wasn’t even talking three years ago, so of course, everything else is going to take some time. The point is though…the most important aspect is that….
Ashlynn ALWAYS grows. She ALWAYS progresses. She was born behind the eight ball. SIGNIFICANTLY behind the eight ball, but that girl doesn’t give a shit about analogies…or about pool for that matter. All she does is: WORK
She WORKS
Her report card wasn’t terrible. I really appreciated how throughout the report card they noted Ashlynn works hard and that she made great progress. So, that’s where we are at.
One day, when (if) Ashlynn ever reads all I have wrote, I hope she remembers this:
You are a fighter, but not one of guts and glory, but one of understated grace. Despite any challenge, you have never wavered from achieving your goals. I watch you day after day and see how badly you want to read, write, draw, dance and skip. I don’t know these things because you tell me with loud words and fists banging on the table. I know these things because I watch your tireless and humble pursuit of them.
When you have earned prizes for behavior, you choose books, cards, sticky notes and journals. You spend your time cutting and writing at your craft table, even though much of what you write is still not legible. It never deters you. It never distracts you from your goal.
At night, you always have cards, papers, or books in your hand. I come in before bed and place them on your nightstand so you have a place to sleep. You “read” your stories to your stuffed animals that you call “friends” while your finger tracks words you still can’t read.
While other children rejoice for the break that is summer, you ask daily when you will go back to school, to first grade, to be exact. You cheer when I announced we would do homework every morning before we go out and play, and you diligently trace and write your name and letters, making numerous errors despite years of OT now. I watch you smile and laugh away your mistakes, so forgiving of yourself as you smile and say “oops, I messed up. Let’s try that again.”
So Ashlynn, if you remember anything in this life, remember where you have come and where you are now. Remember that where you began, or even where you are at when you read this someday, is NO indication of where you will end up. Remember that though you are small and sweet, your heart beats the beat of a true fighter. You are courageous, strong, and brave in the most beautiful of ways. Humble, kind, and forgiving, even of yourself…..something most adults have yet to master.
I used to care about failing before I had you. I was a perfectionist and never wanted to take risks. You make me realize though, that if we don’t take risks, we never succeed either. We merely exist. My life is more amazing now that I take risks. I don’t fear failure because like you, I can always try again. Watching you go to battle everyday leaves me with sorry excuses if I don’t do the same.
Your report card means little to me. I’m not sure if I’m finally starting to accept the numbers or I’m just having a good night, but it didn’t ruin me like it used to. Maybe that’s because I see you and I know you will succeed, and Ashlynn, I will do everything in my power to help you.
