10 Jun 2021

nwhiker: (Default)
It's Linnea's last day of K-12 school.

My baby, my little last, who started in pre-K with Cécile all those years ago at the French school, is done with mandatory schooling.

It's been a tough haul for her, and she's so ready for it to be done. Between the learning disabilities, the anxiety, the pandemic, and a lot of other things, she hasn't had an easy time of it.

She's learned so very much.

I remember those days, waaaay back, when we knew something was wrong, but could not figure out what.

The days when we could not understand how she couldn't figure out the association between five objects and the number 5 even though she seemed capable of counting them. Or the times she'd correctly identity the word the in a sentence by pointing but would be incapable of reading it. The numerous rounds of testing that said yeah, something's up, but, umm, good luck figuring out how to teach to that. The summer between first and second grade when I taught her to read in French, stressful to say the least. There were tears, from both of us. Her beloved tutor Janet teaching her to read in English. Finally, the psychologist who gave us concrete data, which helped us understand better the world of reading/writing/math through her eyes.

The sadness when she aged out of twice a week tutoring sessions with Janet, when Janet could no longer keep up with the math, and Linnea didn't click with any of the other tutors. But before then, so much help and caring, and funny rhymes made up, written down, and illustrated to memorize the times tables. Linnea gets relationships, not numbers, so she made relationships between the numbers to help them figure it out.

The trauma of having to leave the French school: despite being told that one didn't deal with dyslexia by making kids repeat a grade they gave that as the only option. We knew it would not help, and would only hurt her, so we pulled her, moved her to public. Honestly the best move we ever made, but the sadness and refusal to cry on a hurting face the last day at the school she'd known all her life remain an image in my brain that brings me to tears.

New school, new system. New friends. Painful for me, the loss of a second language.

And my husband. Ever patient, kind, repeating stuff over and over, two, three different ways, as many as it took, helping her through whatever it took to get teaching time, math, computer science. We got her through AP classes and advanced classes, and she'd finish high school with just under a 3.0 GPA, above her 2.8 or last sememster, probably a 2.9, which might not sound great but every single bit of that was fought. And fought hard.

Because she's tough and resilient and never gave up. She persisted, coming back at instruction over and over with a tenacity that I can only admire. She hated it. She hated school. But she did it. And she worked hard and for long hours and didn't goof off, and mostly this did not translate to stellar grades. There is no appreciation for kids who try hard in this society, and Linnea lived that and it was painful to parent. Despite the mocking of older folks, there are no participation trophies, and no rewards for effort. People truly don't have a good understanding of learning disabilities, and that includes a lot of teachers. Yes, she sounds intelligent, and that's because she is intelligent, nothing wrong with her IQ. What doesn't work are some of the processing busses.

And she managed all that along with rowing 6 days a week for most of three years, and a heavy rowing schedule this year, even if not the grueling one of pre-pandemic times.

So she's graduating. Not having had in person school in March of last year, having missed the fun events of Senior year (prom was fun, but truly dress up and visit a museum). It's a strange time and in some ways it's difficult for us in a way it isn't for her. We see what she's missed. She's more focused on tomorrow. And, truly, that's the way it should be.
nwhiker: (Default)
I hated marching band. I mean, that Linnea had to waste time and create multiple conflicts with rowing in service to the football team, playing loud music that has been shown to be detrimental to musical learning, just because she chose flute and not violin.

We signed up for band, not fucking marching band.

She took band her first year. Sophomore, she dropped it because we knew she'd need the extra instruction to get through academically and taking band wouldn't leave her with enough hours to finish everything she'd need. Then they added a period to the class day and she would have been able to take it, blah. Anyhow, back to band, marching and all in her Junior year, and she kept it up, remote this year. Even though she hated the band teacher, sigh.

We'd always planned on going to a football (blech!) to see her. We didn't manage Freshman year (her Freshman fall was hectic, it was Perry's senior year. We went to Boston. We got kittens, we dealt with her issues with novice rowing with a semi-abusive coach. I was in school, and taking classes. AC was starting to date dipshit.

I went to the band meeting in Junior year with the intent to figure out a plan with the band director. I talked to him and he told us when to come and leave to maximize band and minimize football. We had a game date planned.

And then my mom got sick, and I flew down to Louisiana and missed the home game we'd been planning on attending. Dh was busy enough dealing with solo parenting not to go by himself.

And then, well, covid.

We never managed to get to marching band, something I deeply regret. I do have a photo of her somewhere, in her marching band gear, but I never go to to see her. We've gone to every single concert she's played in (that we were allowed to attend, LOL) but never got to see her in marching band.

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