The Difference of a Year

JoyLast year at this time I was frustrated, at turns livid, and tired of the fight.

Our call for the IEP meeting was later than it should have been. The struggle to acclimate Molly with her class and teacher was more tedious because we weren’t able to meet with her in a one-on-one setting until there was a problem.

This year I’ve already posted about our great head start by meeting with the teacher and her teacher actually reading last years IEP.

This week we had the IEP meeting.

The depth and scope of the IEP and their knowledge of Molly already, just a few short weeks into the school year impressed me.  I don’t know if it’s because Indiana puts intense focus on testing and education once the kids are in 3rd grade, or because the 3-4th grade school** is just that much more on the ball…but not only did the IEP go smoothly, but they caught all of our concerns and needs before we even had to open our mouths.

Of course this deep attention means that for the first time we are facing the possibility of Molly going into the “resource room” for one particular subject, which we’ll know in the next six weeks.

But it also means that there will be accommodations for tests, independent work…for HER.

For the first time I don’t want to say “Our school system is amazing, unless you have a special needs student.”  This year they didn’t drop the ball…they made a touchdown.

And I finally feel like I can relax.

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**Our school system is different. There are only 4 schools: K-2, 3-4, 5-8 & High School.

 

Somebody Help Me Breathe

As I said a few days ago, Denver is taking a mass media class.  His first assignment?

A video montage.

It could be about any subject he wanted, anything across the whole world.

He could have picked Star Trek & its many incarnations and his absolute love of them.

He didn’t.

He picked Cystic Fibrosis.

And this is his video (be aware of your volume, it’s a bit loud):

Music: “Breathe” by Nickelback

Images: Many from his or my camera, the Riley logo & CFF logos are gained from the interwebs. 

Teachers Make All The Difference

teachersWhen I was really young, I loved school for all of its aspects.  I loved to learn, I enjoyed going every day, I even looked forward to the end of summer. My brother thought I was insane, but I didn’t care. I loved the new year, the new books, the new teachers and new students. The only subject I dreaded was PE, because I hated sports, etc.

As I got older and my social life took a huge nose dive, I still loved learning, but the individual teachers began to make a much larger impact on me. I began to appreciate them for what they did, and how they treated me, they were the beacon in the chaos of teenage drama. Teachers became the biggest imact on my school life.

One teacher that inspired my writing life (and subsequent career as an author), was an English teacher I had in high school.

Mrs. K.

I’m pretty sure the day I approached her with a question on our writing assignment she wasn’t sure what to make of it.  The assignment was to write on our name, the origin of it, the meaning, etc. You know the assignment, I think we all get it.  I asked if it had to be in third person and follow the usual strict guideline for a non-fiction assignment because I had “an idea.”

When she gave me that ok to take the chance, I’m sure she didn’t know how much it would impact my entire future writing life.  I ended up turning the assignment, which had become a creative assignment written as a newspaper article by my great-granddaughter (who shared my name).

I got an A.

And never looked at “standards” the same way again. I approach everything from a sideways slant now. I ignore genres and write crazy stories and plots and don’t ever look back.  All thanks to Mrs. K’s simple “yes” and encouragement.

*~*

These days I look at teachers differently.  With my kids and their own unique personalities, I’m always looking for the one that’s going to have the most impact. How they’re going to turn around a difficulty or face a challenge.  I’m mostly looking for one that, despite their insane schedule, take the time to know what my children are about.  We’ve had some amazing years, and some rough ones, and I’m so happy for each step forward my kids take thank to a teachers impact.

*

TEACHKennedy wants to be a teacher.

I couldn’t be prouder of this dream and I encourage it EVERY.SINGLE.DAY.  Teachers impact the lives of so many children, they make the difference between a love of learning and the desire to avoid school.

I know that the pool of teachers for schools to use is dwindling as people choose different careers and even fewer go to college.  I see first hand that within the next 10 years 65% of America’s current teachers will retire – because every year in my kids school several teachers leave or retire.

I think Kennedy’s dream of being a teacher is the best dream there is. I want her to achieve it and hope she does.

*~*

On September 6th 8PM EST, TEACH will air on CBS. Brought to us by Academy Award-winning director Davis Guggenheim, it explores education in America today and asks what it takes to be a good teacher today. I know I’ll be watching, and have my future teacher at my side.

What about you? Did you have a teacher that impacted your life? Share your story. Visit the TEACH website to learn about the four awesome teachers highlighted in the documentary and

 
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*DISCLOSURE: This post was sponsored by Participant Media. However, the stories told are uniquely my own, and all opinions are most certainly 100% my own.

New Year, New Hope

_MG_2313Last week I got an email from Molly’s teacher.

In previous years this was always cause for alarm. We got emails (or phone calls) when there were issues.

So, it’s to be expected that I opened this email with a small amount of trepidation.

Within the 20 words the teacher blew me away, impressed me, and made me so happy Molly has ended up in her class.  It read:

“I saw on Molly’s IEP that daily check-ins were in order so I apologize for
not getting to it last week.”

First off – you READ Molly’s IEP? Before you were asked to? Before we worked on adjusting it for the new year (and upcoming standardized testing)?  Voluntarily and without any prompting?

SCORE – no teacher has ever done this before.

Secondly – you are ACTUALLY doing as asked?  You’re taking daily notes to email to me a couple of times a week at least, with hopes of moving up to every day?

SCORE – no teacher has ever done this before either.

With one email I was able to breathe out a huge sigh of relief.  The struggles and confusion of the previous few years of starting school is dissipated and made easier all around for everyone.

When we go in for our IEP meeting next week I’m going to make sure that Mrs. B doesn’t think that she must email me every single day, but a few times a week will work just fine. Mostly because I know she’ll do it, because she already has.

Either way I think this year is going to be Molly’s best yet. We’re getting there slowly, but we’re getting there.

It’s a New Record

kidteenIt’s the third day of school.

1…2…3.

This morning I made the first sick call of the year.

In fairness, it’s been coming on for over a week.

Denver hasn’t been well.

We were told to keep an eye on it, and we have. For a few days we thought he might be doing better.

Not so much.

He has yet to attend a cross country practice (and he LOVES XC)

After school yesterday the kid slept.

And slept.

And his fever returned to spike up before dropping again.

So he gets to go in for a sick appointment today (it was that or the ER).

Where we go from here is an unknown.

Hopefully it’s home with meds…and not another stay.

Hopefully.

The Guilt

mybroodSomeone recently asked if I carry guilt.

Unwarranted guilt.

Two kids with CF.

One with Autism.

The truth of the matter is…

Yes.

Every day.

Most days I am able to ignore it.

Most days I’m able to ease Erik’s guilt over the wholething.

To continue forward and do what we must do. What we have to do. To live our lives.

Because I love them.

And wish I could take their challenges onto myself.

I try to never let them see it.

Or feel it.

I don’t know that it’s something we’ll ever shake. Or be able to fully let go of. There are risks in the future if they have kids. There are risks in the future of how their lives will turn out.

But I’d feel guiltier if they weren’t happy.

And I believe they are.

I hope they are.

I hope they always will be.