We had school conferences yesterday. First was David’s. He’s doing very well. His reading is a little behind, but mostly because he needs to really learn the -ed and -ing endings. He is having a few behavioral issues right now. We’re seeing it at home too. The only thing I can think of is growth spurt. He always reverts to worse behaviors during growth spurt time. Then she briefly touched on the fact that this is David’s 3rd and final year in her class. Where does time go?
Daniel’s conference was next. I was concerned about this one. I wasn’t sure whether his teacher cared that he was repeating kindergarten and already knew everything on the homework sheets. Turns out Daniel is one of five who are repeating. She is very conscious of making everything new and interesting for them. She also has time for them to be challenged in class. They are split by ability and they do work according to skill. Daniel takes great pride in being a role model for the students that can’t do as much. She loves having him in class.
And finally I had Celia’s conference. This was the first time I got to meet her teacher. I went in not thinking the best of her, and left thinking she seems nice. Gee, could it be influenced by the fact that she kept raving over Celia’s beauty and her hair? Then she told me how wonderful the book was that Celia read to the class. (Celia took in The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane and asked if the class could read it. The teacher allowed Celia to read it to the class.) She said the class was quieter while Celia read than while she (the teacher) reads. She commented on Celia’s grades leveling out. Thinking that Celia just needed to settle in. I confessed that I put Celia back on Strattera (her ADD med) since her class work was suffering. And you should see her report card! All A’s with one B in science. All her behavioral marks are O’s. Previous years her report cards would have a good mix of O’s, S’s and N’s. She always had difficulties finishing work in the time allotted and difficulties working with others. Now the teacher has to assign partners because there are about six girls who always want to be paired with Celia. And her final assessment: she thinks Celia should be tested for gifted. I’ve always agreed, but it seems like while off her meds, the other teachers didn’t agree. I intend to write a letter formally requesting testing for gifted next week.
Henry has gotten into this habit of actually waking at about 5 AM. He drags all his knit and crocheted blankets and piles them onto my bed before attempting to climb in himself. At this point I groggily say, “You can’t come in my bed until you go potty.” That is, after all, what woke him. He just won’t acknowledge that on his own. Last night he said, “Follow me.” I was obviously still quite asleep, because I remember saying, “Where are we going?” He walked to my side of the bed, held out his hand, and answered, “To the baff-room.” In my head I was thinking, “Right. Right. Of course. The bathroom…” So we stumbled down the hall together. He stood for a moment by the unopened toilet. I asked, “Are you going to go potty? Or should I go first?” He said, “We’ll go together.” (I think he’s still under the impression that everyone has a penis.) He said he wanted to stand to pee. He looked so cute on his tippy-toes, using both hands to aim–even though he really doesn’t need to. When we were all finished in the bathroom, we stumbled back to bed. Just as I got in, he asked, “Where’s my blue blankie?” I probably mumbled, “I don’t know.” And Henry said, “It has to be dum-where.” After a few more “It has to be dum-where’s” I found it on the floor on his side of my bed. He snatched it from my hand and said, “Dare it is!” And he snuggled down to sleep a few more hours.
