We were on a long drive, and I was trying to gather up the courage to tell my husband something. I knew it would be a little bit touchy, and I wanted to approach the issue in just the right way. After all, it was about his oldest daughter–my stepdaughter–and I knew he had very tender feelings for her. And I’d have to use two dirty words: special education.
For months I had watched Sunni drown in her middle school classes. To read my previous blog on this story, click here. Despite working with her, meeting with teachers, and enrolling her in a special class which teaches study skills, she was on the verge of academic disaster. I was concerned that she might not pass the seventh grade if something weren’t done—quickly.
During Sunni’s sixth grade year, her struggles in school were so obvious that official papers were mailed to our home from the school district, suggesting they were suspicious of a learning disability. They were asking for permission to test Sunni to see if she required special education services. My husband had been very unhappy at the suggestion that his daughter might require special education.
“Not MY Kid.”
I think this happens often with parents—there is a stigma associated with those two words. Our initial reaction might be: Not MY kid. “Special education” somehow implies that our child doesn’t measure up. This was my husband’s stance. Despite how I tried to explain that it might only refer to accommodations in a regular classroom, he saw the request to test his daughter as some sort of personal insult. Yet he did reluctantly allow Sunni to take the tests. She ended up scoring well into the normal range for her grade—indicating she did not have a learning disability. My husband felt vindicated. And I decided to shut my mouth.
Middle School Presents New Problems
But now Sunni was in middle school, with no single teacher watching over her. Even though she had a planner to regularly track her assignments, she often “forgot” where the planner was or “forgot” to write down her work. Each of her classes that I looked up on the school website showed numerous scattered missing assignments that Sunni seemed to be confused about. “I thought I turned that in,” she’d say. Or, “I think my teacher forgot to grade it.” I told her that I’d never heard of a teacher forgetting to grade six assignments. These were symptoms of her ADHD… the daydreaming, forgetfulness, doodling on assignment papers, distractibility, and inconsistent test grades. Her sixth grade teacher had told me that “in twenty years of teaching” she had never seen a child with such a severe case of inattention.
Sunni needed help. Prior to middle school, I had addressed her ADHD by speaking directly with her teacher and bouncing suggestions off her. So I thought I could do that with each of her teachers in middle school. I was trying to avoid the “special education” stigma. But this clearly wasn’t working. When I met with her teachers, they seemed at a loss as to what to suggest. They didn’t know how to help Sunni, either. I was convinced as ever that Sunni needed formal special education services.
Facing Reality
So we were driving down the highway, and I cleared my throat. “Honey, I think… ahem. I think Sunni needs special education intervention to help her in school.”
Silence.
I continued. “Since she has ADHD, she’s automatically eligible for services. I really think she needs it. She’s failing most of her classes. Sunni needs help.”
Silence. Then, “Yes, I agree.”
“I’m going to call tomorrow and get things going.”
“Alright. That’s fine.”
(Phew.) That wasn’t so bad.
The next day I was on the phone with the seventh grade counselor. She said that after the holidays we would have a meeting with all of her teachers together to discuss Sunni’s needs. She agreed that Sunni was eligible for intervention, which might be something like a sophisticated tracking system with teacher signatures, or a check-in weekly with an assigned counselor, or a tutor. Either way, I had reached the point where I knew I couldn’t help Sunni on my own, and I needed to formally start the process. Help is available for these kids but we must pursue it vigorously.
Kristyn Crow is the author of this blog. Visit her website by clicking here. Some links on this blog may have been generated by outside sources are not necessarily endorsed by Kristyn Crow.
Related Articles:
ADHD and the Land of Middle School
Will My Child Outgrow ADHD? Looking Ahead to the Teenage Years
ADHD: To Medicate or Not to Medicate – That is the Question
ADHD? Or is Your Child Actually Gifted?