Bleeping Across the Radar Screen

Just a few things that flew by today (w/ links and excerpts, emphasis added)…

Through the EducationNews.org newsletter, a link to an interview with Will Fitzhugh:

Will, why should principals, administrators and school boards be paying a lot more attention to the actual amount and quality of academic work that is being required of students in the schools?

WF: My concern about the decline in the amount of work being asked of students in history grew after The Concord Review Study of the assignment of history term papers in 2002. We found that the majority of high school teachers no longer assign the traditional research paper in history classes. This month, The Boston Globe reported that 37% of high school graduates in Massachusetts state colleges are not ready for college work, including reading and writing. The College Board's Commission on Writing found a few years ago that the member companies of the Business Roundtable estimate they spend more than $3 Billion each year on remedial writing courses for their salaried and hourly employees in about equal numbers. I concluded that high school graduates are having trouble with writing because they aren't doing much actual academic expository writing in school.

First page on a Google scan, link info from 2007:

College Affordability Is Only Part of the Solution

As tuition costs skyrocket, elected officials have begun offering plans to make college more affordable for high school graduates. But better affordability without better preparation will not solve the bigger challenge—making a college degree more attainable to more Americans. America’s college completion rates are deplorably low.
■ Only about half of students who enroll in 4-year colleges after high school manage to earn a bachelor’s degree within six years.1
■ College going is increasing, but college completion is not keeping up. From 1975 to 2001, college going increased 14 percent, but college completion remained at nearly the same level as the early 1970s.2
■ Out of 24 countries, the U.S. was one of only two that showed no increase in bachelor’s
degree attainment between 2000 and 2004.3

Poor preparation is the problem.
■ Many college freshmen have to take remedial classes to learn what they should have learned in high school. Nearly one-third of college freshman enroll in at least one remedial course, a figure that rises to 42 percent in the nation’s community colleges, which educate a rapidly growing number of America’s undergraduates.4 In some states, the problem is even worse:

Same scan, same page:

The Remediation Debate
Are we serving the needs of underprepared college students?

Only one-third of students leave high school at least minimally prepared for college, and the proportion is much smaller for black and Hispanic students. Among those who persevere to college, 35 to 40 percent require remedial courses in reading, writing or mathematics. The courses are intended to address academic deficiencies and to prepare students for subsequent college success.

Oddball Word of the Day

dyspepsia (dis-PEP-shuh): n. chronic indigestion

(from the guide to MMMW, edited by Laurence Urdang)

A Haunting Melody

(Some identifiers changed for obvious reasons)

Yesterday was exhausting. I had an IEP meeting to attend with a client in a district over an hour away, and the client has had a brain injury. The subsequent damage has resulted in a number of problems, the most significant and overwhelming aspect being frenetic, excessive verbosity.

This has been tough to deal with because the frantic talking is so severe that meeting with them is like being hit by a tsunami of disjointed phrases and topics so disparate that they simply cannot be connected. In addition, the onslaught is powered by a damage-induced frenzy to produce verbiage at a pace and intensity so consuming to the client that he has to be physically grabbed, redirected and told to stop by his spouse.

The first time I met with the clients, I felt like brick wall had fallen on me. That meeting lasted nearly three hours, and I think I got maybe 50 words in. Nevertheless, after a lot of work, I was successful in getting the child’s IEP revised to the parents’ satisfaction. The school district was thrilled to have someone helping the family create comprehensible requests, which in turn helped defuse a situation that had been becoming increasingly contentious and hostile.

There have been additional meetings since then, and in all instances, I have done what I try to do with every client – work everything out well in advance so that the parents and I present at the meeting as a united front, get whatever hard data we can put together in supportive presentation form, and walk in to the meeting prepared for success in getting necessary services.

However, I got blindsided by my clients yesterday. Dad had decided, while I was driving to the meeting, to utterly revise all our previously mutually agreed upon points, opt out of some services, and pretty much wander off in a whole different direction, much to the surprise of Mom and the student. None of us knew about this before the meeting. I usually meet with my clients in the parking lot before meetings to review our position and any strategy, but the family showed up late, and everyone else was already in the meeting room, so we had to hustle. I got no warning of any kind that any changes were in the works.

I did what I could to recover the situation to the student’s benefit and within my clients’ difficult-to-discern, revised wishes, but I was definitely caught off guard. Mom was staring at me, hands cupped around her face, mouthing, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.” The district was in shock, too. We wound up rescheduling, having used all the allotted time trying to figure out what Dad was trying to say.

I held my clients back after the meeting and tried to get an inkling of what had prompted this abrupt change. It took a while, but I did manage to determine that Dad seemed to be vehemently opposed to one particular service and would do whatever it took to avoid it. It was a service the student wanted, the mother wanted, private service providers have recommended it, the school district was willing and eager to provide it, and it is a service I thought was a spanking good idea.

So, knowing full well what I was in for, I asked “Why?” In rolled the tsunami. I searched for fragments of possibly relevant flotsam, filled up my mental pockets with likely bits, and finally called a halt when there didn’t seem to be any more progress to be made.

I drove home annoyed, venting to the inside of my car. I walked into my house, flopped facedown on the couch, and decided to mentally pull the blanket up over my head and pretend I wasn’t there for an hour or two. After I’d recovered a little, I trundled off to Chix. It was nice to chat with other ladies about a number of things not related to my day.

I awoke this morning with something from the past floating through my head, which for me, is like playing a game of “Connections”. I need to figure out the theme of the memory and look at it from various angles to see why my subconscious thinks it’s relevant today.

BC (before children), I tutored a great deal. One of my clients back then was a girl who had been an above average student who seemed to hit a wall and needed academic assistance. Over a period of a few weeks, she got edgier and more distracted and less able to focus on the tasks. I worried that it was me – that I was not connecting with her, that maybe a different tutor would do a better job. Then I got a call from her mother, asking me if I would be able to continue tutoring, even though the child was now in a locked ward at the hospital as a result of attempting suicide.

I was a little flabbergasted and asked why the school or hospital was not handling that. It turned out that they only provided tutoring up to a certain level, and the subjects I had been covering with the student were not considered necessary and were therefore not included. She didn’t want her daughter to fall behind, and the daughter had specifically asked for me to come and help her stay current. Mom was crying and reaching for a lifeline, so I agreed.

It was creepy getting cleared through security, but the aura inside was mostly sad. My student was watching me as I came in, checking my reactions, possibly to see if I was repulsed or frightened or disoriented. When we sat down together in the study area, we looked at each other for a minute or two. I raised my eyebrows, and she shrugged, rolled her eyes a little and brought her scared gaze back to me. I winked and smiled, pulled the first textbook over in front of us, flipped it open and said, “How about we get started?” (Or something much like that, which is my standard line.) I set paper and pencil out, the same way I usually did.

I will never forget her reaction. I heard a light snort and looked over to see her sitting rigid, with tears sheeting down her face, pouring onto her shirt. She reached over and touched my arm very lightly and said, “Thank you. I didn’t know if I’d see ‘normal’ ever again,” and her face showed relief.

That was extent of the memory I woke up with, but since I don’t like to leave anyone in suspense, dark stuff was stirred up, the family imploded as a result, I lost touch, and a few years later I got a card from the student indicating that life was back on track, that “normal” had returned.

I wondered why my subconscious had chosen to plaster that particular memory on the inside of my forehead this morning, as I drank my first cup of coffee and watched a rainy dawn break. Then things started clicking into place – all the services Dad wanted removed were those which would have marked his child as not “normal”. Dad was proposing replacing in-school services with private pay after school services to accommodate the child’s needs in other ways so that the child would have a normal day. Dad was not proposing removing services, just altering delivery times, venues, and oversight because, for whatever reason, he thought having a normal day should be a priority.

I can understand that and work with it. I can sound out the client to see if that’s the case, and we can reorient as a team. It may not be what I’d have chosen or what I would recommend, but it’s not my child. Besides, feeling “normal” is important, too.

Oddball Word of the Day

badinage (bad-ehn-EHZH): n. light, playful repartee or banter; teasing; raillery

(from the guide to MMMW, edited by Laurence Urdang)

Get Smart and End Hunger

Great website referral from a friend, FreeRice. Use your current vocabulary, learn some new words, and donate rice to feed the hungry. Challenging, very challenging at the higher levels! Check out my Dead and Oddball words for a kickstart.

Also recommended by a friend, for those confused by economics, an explanation of the subprime problems, as told by stick figures. At the site, click on "this stick figure slideshow" to get the lowdown.

And congrats to Lamb and Frog for getting Stinky away from the clinkers and into a place with hope and possibilities. Well fought! Round of applause! (And don’t forget to stay alert and frosty.)

Oddball Word of the Day

pensile (PEN-sill): adj. 1) suspended, as some birds' nests, 2) that constructs a hanging nest, used of birds

(from the dictionary of MMMW, edited by Laurence Urdang)

Like a Dog Returning to His Own Vomit..

(Does anyone else remember that line from the movie “The Sure Thing”?)

Well, it looks like my last post generated some feelings, and I think it’s only fair to address them openly rather than letting them hide in the nether regions of the comments. In particular, one response is from David Rice, an English teacher at MCHS.

It’s ironic that Mr. Rice would take the post personally, although I can see how it would offend him, since I did not name names and thereby exclude him in my post. Of all the teachers at MCHS, he is one of maybe five teachers whom every student and parent adores. If all the teachers there taught to his standard of excellence, MCHS would be a world class school, and I don’t say that lightly. He is always enthusiastic, energized, upbeat, engaged, open-minded, and a joy to have leading the classroom. His projects are relevant, challenging, and advance the cause of learning, as well as the understanding of his topic. He uses every minute of the extended block period for instruction and reinforcement, and I’m not alone in my opinion that if he were head of his department, it would change for the better by an order of magnitude.

Also, for the record, I didn’t make these things up myself. I have little classroom experience at MCHS because, obviously, I graduated yonks ago. I have, however, done classroom observations and listened to over 6 years of complaints and worries from my children at the end of each school day. I have, over the years, called teachers, guidance counselors, the THREE principals we’ve had during that time, attended School Board meetings, met with all of the above, emailed and snail mailed them, too, about my concerns, ad nauseum.

And, one day, I had had enough. So, I wrote down a summary of things, largely tongue-in-cheek, reflecting my kids’ complaints about their high school experiences. I don’t pretend these complaints are completely reflective of other children’s experiences there, and I do not speak for other parents either. However, I did ask all three of my kids to read this list before I posted it. I asked for their input, any changes or additions, and got a round table consensus from them about each item. I also incorporated some things that I have discussed with other parents and other students and former students, but cleared it through my kids.

Bunny said she wished some of the things weren’t true, but they are. Spot (formerly Spawn) gave a rueful laugh and said they were all true and some were worse than I had stated. Doodle nodded his head, agreeing with the others, and added a couple of his recent experiences to the pool.

There will always be exceptions, especially to anything written in a sarcastic or humorous manner, to posts that vent and to posts that laud on a non-specific basis. That being said, I am leaving my original snark in standard type, Mr. Rice’s commentary is in italics, and my responses are in bold.

Title: 20 Things My Kids Have Learned at MCHS
(and 20 Things the Teachers Have Learned About Me and My Kids)

1. If enough of your classmates whine about a test, project, paper, or assignment deadline, the teacher will change it.
(And your kids learned how to whine at home, as is demonstrated by your whining in this post.)
It’s my blog. I could post pictures of shaved goats wearing tutus and clown shoes and label them “Entertainment PhDs” if I wanted.

2. If enough kids whine about how hard a project is, the teacher will make it easier.
(See #1)
Your projects are great. You have never required “gilded spaghetti” projects that waste children’s time. I wish that were the norm.

3. If a lot of the kids act like they really enjoy group work, the teacher will let you all do more, including coloring and skits. There’s always some nerd in the group who wants to learn and does a good job, so everyone gets a good grade!
(And was your kid the one who chose to rely on others’ work? If so, what does that say about what he/she learned at home? If not, then he/she learned that people who work can excel, regardless of what their co-workers do. Still a valuable lesson in life. Moreover, maybe one your kids group mates learned something from your kid? Wouldn’t that be a tragedy if kids actually learned from each other, as well as the teacher?)
Homework is a good thing for everyone. Please see:
Aargh, Student Teachers 11/13/06 – Social Studies department quirks
Five Things for Student Teachers 11/17/06 - self-explanatory vent of things I wish student teachers had assimilated before entering the classroom. There are undoubtedly points for/of disagreement.

4. A five-page paper, double-spaced, is the most anyone will ever expect of you in life. Plus, you get to whine about it!
(In which case it is clear your child did not meet the expectations/requirements of either junior or senior English. Hmmm, not meeting expectations. The fault of the teacher or of the student who CHOSE not to meet them?)
All three of my children have consistently been on the honor roll EVERY year in high school. Not all teachers adhere to the requirements for your department, sadly. Even more depressing is the fact that the school year has ended before the papers were graded and handed back. Twice, to my specific knowledge.

5. No matter if the course title is AP or honors, if the teacher is bad, everyone gets a good grade, whether they learn or do anything or not.
(Gee, everyone who qualifies for an honors class gets a good grade? Your kid obviously did not take Honors English I or II! Mr. Rice and Mr. Kein are notorious for the number of students moved out---followed by a great deal of parental whining about how unfair we are because we actually expect kids to meet our expectations or transfer to a different level.)
Please note that I said “if the teacher is bad” as a condition. Neither of you are bad teachers. There are bad teachers, some are in your department. Two of my three children have had honors classes with both of you and done well but got moved to other designations later, at my behest, because I did not want them taking classes with bad teachers and misleading labels.

While this counted against them in the GPA race, I don’t play that game. They have outstanding skills because I made skills a priority, since those last, as opposed to letting them succumb to GPA games, which leave students lacking in skills, but long on impressive-sounding transcripts. I am not making this up. Parents of “honor” students talk. My kids have outscored all but a couple of cohorts per year (on the ACT) in their “honors” circles because I do know what I’m doing and what I’m talking about.

6. If you’re in sports, you get excused from a lot of assignments.
(If your child learned to generalize, they learned it at home. A generalization such as this would be an “F” on an assignment in my English class. Give me a specific EXAMPLE---or go to work for a political campaign for either party.)
Your first statement is specious. Generalization is not limited to my blog and is considered a skill in the category of social language pragmatics. I refuse to name bad teachers who have given up rigor for pacification because they deserve their anonymity, too. Instead, I talk to them and the administration, which I have done and will continue to do. See also Spawn's Small Town 12/05/06 - latter half are his experiences re the HS.

7. If your teacher is a coach, there’s a lot of free time in class and very few assignments.
(And if a student athlete is ineligible, the FIRST call a teacher gets is from Mom or Dad----whining about how we’re penalizing their son/daughter and removing the ONLY reason they come to school anyway.)
Not my fault. I’m the one who stands alone in front of the school board, the principal, and the classroom teacher arguing for greater rigor and higher expectations when necessary. Please see:
The Talk 4/2/07 about high standards, intrinsic rewards, and the quest for personal excellence,
The Letter I Didn't Send 5/29/07 morally questionable selling of academic indulgences,
Plans for Life 4/23/07 – prepping for the ACT and my opinions about high school studies and the early years of college

8. Homework? What’s homework? We do that in class instead of getting a full 90 minutes (block schedule) of instruction or learning activities.
(See #6)
See 6 and 7, as well as:
Notes I Have Sent 5/3/06 humorous notes I’ve sent to elementary, middle and high schools. I think you will find the last one particularly relevant.

9. Ninety minutes of silent reading while the teacher is on the computer is considered a good use of our time at school.
(See #6)
See 6 and 7

10. We guess you can learn a lot from movies. We sure see plenty of them, including the same ones year after year or stuff we’ve seen at home already.
(See #6. Gee, this is getting boring! Do you already work for a Presidential campaign, or are you just a talented amateur at this?)
(Snort) See 6 and 7. Then go talk to the librarians about how many movies they plug into the system over the course of a semester. I have. It might open your eyes to what your cohorts are doing. Doodle saw 5 movies in his first term of English, none of which were relevant to the course, nor were they reviewed, nor were the students tested on them, nor were they discussed in class. Bunny saw three in her senior English class, only one of which was relevant; the rest were time fillers. In a different English class, they saw two, also not discussed, reviewed, or accompanied by assessments of knowledge.

You have no idea how sad it makes me to know that my charges, even phrased tongue-in-cheek, are true.

Last Sock in the Nerd Hamper 3/5/07 – a humorous take on validated giftedness
Nerdliness Further 2/13/07 – living with gifted children, and memories

11. If you’re involved in enough activities and can’t keep up in class, get your parents to complain and the teachers will lower their expectations!
(Are you talking about YOUR kids? If not, how can you be sure that the information you have is accurate? I’m sure that every time your kids tell you, “But ALL the kids are doing it!” you accept that and give in, right? Then why do you assume that their version of what happens in my class is accurate?)
If it were YOUR class, I would not have this complaint. Sadly, you remain a statistical outlier on the scale of teacher excellence, along with a few other teachers. I have no problem with you defending your own conduct, but I would advise you to be careful of generalizing the other teachers’ classroom conduct and expectations, just as you have cautioned me on my generalizations.
Really, do you have any idea of how demoralizing such behavior on the part of teachers can be to the student ?
I urge you to read some of my other posts before assuming you know the basis for my snarky remarks.

12. If you get a tough teacher who makes you learn and work, you will remember them fondly forever, and, regardless of the class, it will be what you wish for in every other class you ever take.
(Just like every worker remembers his/her good bosses fondly. Again, a lesson in life. Another one, though, is that not every student is inspired/motivated by the same teachers. For every student who thinks Teacher “A” is the worst teacher ever, there’s a student who thinks that Teacher “A” made school bearable/interesting/exciting. Again, is YOUR child’s opinion of a teacher the only one that matters?)
Nope. I never said so. I am answerable for what I say, not for what you think.

13. Never complain about not having enough work, hard enough work, or expectations being low because then the teachers will give you a lower grade to “prove” you wrong.
(See #6. And then ask yourself if you actually brought your concerns to the TEACHER and or the PRINCIPAL with specific examples that someone could actually address? Probably not. It’s a lot easier to blog!)
And, it’s a lot easier to pretend you know who I am, who my children are, what I support, and what my expectations are, rather than reading my previous posts… Which are pretty clearly categorized.

14. If you have to read a book for a class, it will be depressing. If you already don’t read for pleasure, this will help make sure you never do.
(Gee, nobody ever learns anything from books like TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD or ROMEO AND JULIET. They’re so depressing. Hey, let’s read CHICKEN SOUP books, instead! They’re inspirational, require no thought, and teach everyone that mediocre writing can become a best seller. And then we’ll all pretend that the folks on AMERICAN IDOL are just as good as Yo-Yo Ma or Frank Sinatra or Maria Callas or the other great artists of the 20th C.)
Well, that’s certainly a leap without any basis. And, let me lob this one back, that must mean that there are NO books worth reading, or genre worth exploring, which do not involve graphically depicted violent death, racism, suicide, or mental illness, and those which fail on the “depressing” scale are therefore are intrinsically unworthy of being analyzed for literary merit.

15. If you are smart and non-conformist, someone will call your parents to discuss your “problems.”
(Hmmm. Non-conformist. Is that the student who refuses to follow the classroom assignment to keep a binder with his/her papers in neat order, to aid in studying/reviewing because that’s not her style? Or is that the student who wears the t-shirt with the inappropriate message? Or the one whose smell is so bad that every student in the class BEGS you to talk to the nurse? Again, a bit of specificity on how your darling is a “non-conformist” might help!)
You might recognize one of the references in the following:

My Kids Aren't From Stepford 4/29/06 -actual calls I’ve gotten from schools, and my responses. In reality, I did say these things, but followed them up with more situationally and socially correct remarks as well.
Or here:
Notes I Have Sent 5/3/06 humorous notes I’ve sent to elementary, middle and high schools

16. If you hate school – go anyway! Make sure to take classes with coach-teachers to keep your GPA high. They’ll give you a diploma just to get rid of you!
(Again, a non-specific charge with no support. Hope you don’t have a job which actually requires you to back up your opinions. Or do you work for Dick Cheney, in which case neither logic nor support is required.)
ROFLMAO! (wiping tears of laughter from my eyes, and then…t-i-c again…) Oh, so poorly fletched an arrow poses risks to birds a-wing! Take a look at MCHS’s school report cards, which indicate, quite objectively, that the majority of students graduating fall BELOW the PSAE benchmarks across the board, and the ACT scores which show students averaging below college readiness benchmarks in all areas excluding reading.

17. If you want to know if you’re prepared for college, refer to your ACT score, not your high school transcript. That’s what colleges do.
(And is that OUR fault?! Or is this sarcasm? As with all the other inane generalities, your failure to actually give a concrete example makes it impossible to respond. Of course, that’s the point of this diatribe, isn’t it? After all, it’s SO much easier to sling mud in large quantities rather than accept the fact that your son/daughter may have thrown away innumerable opportunities to excel, to participate in the myriad extra-curriculars this school offers, or to take the BEST of our EVERY class, regardless of whether he/she like the teacher.)
No, it’s systemic and nationwide, but it is also local and therefore relevant. See above for objective references. Also refer to The Talk .

18. If you want to know what college work is like, ask a parent or a college student. Don’t count on your teachers or classes to help prepare you for it.
(It’s amazing what an incredible percentage of students we have failing out of college, isn’t it? Oh, wait. We don’t. Well, in that case it’s amazing what an amazing percentage of students we have who have learned EVERYTHING they know in the first 2 weeks of college! Gee, your darling is a genius, just like you told everyone when they were 2 and knew all their colors, even “Fuschia”!)
Not sure where you’re getting your data, which appears to be largely subjective. I think you should instead, for anecdotal purposes, poll the graduating students and find out what percentage are going to have to take remedial courses when they start college. And see the above references. Nationwide, 40% of incoming college students require remediation (Journal of Higher Education, Inside Higher Ed.), and over the last 10-15 years, colleges have had to institute competency tests in order to place students in appropriate math and English courses, which is a sad, sad statement on the ability of high schools nationwide to prepare kids for college. There is no shortage of information available, if you choose to seek it out.

And:
The Mind of Spawn 8/23/06 about dealing with gifted children and their thirst for knowledge,
Phrase Migration 1/10/07 – last third, school encounters
Holding Forth 8/28/06 – teaching language skills from the get-go

19. Friends are great. Sometimes they’re the only reason to show up.
(Friends and family are the only reasons ANY of us survive in this world. How is that a problem? Rather, that is what keeps all of us going through good times and bad. It’s called life.)
See: The Talk

20. The lunches still suck, but there are fewer pizzaburgers and less mystery meat.
(And how many times during your sweetheart’s junior/senior year did he/she choose to partake of the haute cuisine at Mickey D’s, Burger King, Dave’s Dawgs, etc.? You want your kid to eat healthy food, stay on task, and reach his/her maximum potential? Take away the car and the video game, put the computer in the FAMILY ROOM where you can monitor what he/she is doing on it, and give him/her a curfew. Then while he/she is working on homework, fix a FAMILY MEAL and require the WHOLE FAMILY to eat together.)
Well, that response certainly went off at an obscure angle, but I’ll be happy to answer your deflection. Not very damned often, since I make them pay for that (and gas, and the insurance if their grades drop below a B average) out of their own pockets. I restrict the use of automobiles, and I remain final arbiter in whether or not they get to use the computer, the internet, and videogames. In addition, all of those privileges are earned privileges, not rights, and they are expected to do household chores on a regular schedule and a consistent basis in order to earn them, in addition to doing their schoolwork. We are also famous amongst my children's friends for routinely having family dinners, some of which my children cook from scratch themselves, because I consider that a necessary skill and have spent many years (and gamely eaten many odd things) teaching it to them.

And, now, it’s my turn to have my say…

You have held forth a great deal about my assumptions and how erroneous they are, but I think you have failed to address the beam in your own eye. You did not read my prior posts to see what sort of a parent I am; you made assumptions that I am the worst sort, the kind that throws obstacles and fictional objections in your way. I am not.

I am data driven, with a background in the hard sciences, financial analysis, and special education law. I am a tireless researcher with outstanding credentials in a wide variety of fields. And, I am a parent who invariably supports and applauds teachers with high standards, high expectations, and the grit to continue in the face of public and systemic pressure to lighten up, dumb down, or phone it in.

None of the “charges” I’ve made are based on slapdash, haphazard assumptions. Not all of them are the results of statistical data, either. They are what they are – some are based on objective measurements, some on widespread, nationally applicable criticisms and observations, and others are a result of combined anecdotal input from a variety of sources, not by any means limited to my own family, and including other parents of honor students, the students themselves, past students in the same category, web searches and blog analysis from students and the hardships they encounter when they go off to college after graduating from MCHS, and newspaper or other journal articles, locally, regionally and nationally. I have no problem dismissing things that are clearly personal whines, nor do I have a problem in recognizing patterns and similarities, nor am I unable to choose whether or not I consider them relevant and worthy of further investigation.

I have also made sure to gather data directly from MCHS, the school report cards, requests to administrative personnel for longitudinal data on AP scores, ACT, and PSAE scores. I have been doing this for 7 years, one year prior to my oldest child starting at MCHS, because I believe that research and information are exceedingly important.

I have made all of these points over the last 6 years, to all three principals at MCHS, to a number of teachers, and to members of the school board. I have stood behind what I believe, and what I have researched, and I have spoken directly to those involved in the most egregious offenses, ONLY when I had substantive data to back me up – because it wouldn’t be fair otherwise.

And NONE of that means that I don’t get to vent, blow off steam, or express my opinions on my own blog. As I stated at the beginning, I could put any variety of witless, fictional fluff I wanted, and it still wouldn’t mean I was in violation of anything. You can read it, you can agree, disagree, move on, never visit again, whatever. I don’t care. It’s up to you.

P.S. One thing MY father taught me is that anyone who is afraid to stand up and take responsibility for his/her opinion and uses the “anonymous” label isn’t worth a bucket of warm spit. That’s why I’m glad to sign my response.David M. Rice, Proud MCHS English Teacher.

Potpourri and Reasons for Anonymity 8/5/07 self-explanatory

In no particular order, the following is a list of relevant prior posts. It is not comprehensive or all-inclusive.

The Talk 4/2/07 about high standards intrinsic rewards, and the quest for personal excellence
The Letter I Didn't Send 5/29/07 morally questionable selling of academic indulgences
Potpourri and Reasons for Anonymity 8/5/07 self-explanatory
Spawn's Small Town 12/05/06 latter half are his experiences re the HS
The Mind of Spawn 8/23/06 about dealing with gifted children and their thirst for knowledge
Notes I Have Sent 5/3/06 humorous notes I’ve sent to elementary, middle and high schools
School Supplies 4/30/06 – a humorous parody of notes sent home from school for additional supplies, elementary and middle school years.
My Kids Aren't From Stepford 4/29/06 l – actual calls I’ve gotten from schools, and my responses. In reality, I did say these things, but followed them up with more situationally correct remarks as well.
Plans for Life 4/23/07 – prepping for the ACT and my opinions about high school studies and the early years of college
Last Sock in the Nerd Hamper 3/5/07 – a humorous take on validated giftedness
Nerdliness Further 2/13/07 – living with gifted children and memories
Phrase Migration 1/10/07 – last third, school encounters
Aargh, Student Teachers 11/13/06 – The Social Studies department quirks
Five Things for Student Teachers 11/17/06 – self-explanatory vent of things I wish student teachers had assimilated before entering the classroom. There are undoubtedly points for/of disagreement.
Holding Forth 8/28/06 – teaching language skills from the get-go

20 Things My Kids Have Learned at MCHS

1. If enough of your classmates whine about a test, project, paper, or assignment deadline, the teacher will change it.

2. If enough kids whine about how hard a project is, the teacher will make it easier.

3. If a lot of the kids act like they really enjoy group work, the teacher will let you all do more, including coloring and skits. There’s always some nerd in the group who wants to learn and does a good job, so everyone gets a good grade!

4. A five-page paper, double-spaced, is the most anyone will ever expect of you in life. Plus, you get to whine about it!

5. No matter if the course title is AP or honors, if the teacher is bad, everyone gets a good grade, whether they learn or do anything or not.

6. If you’re in sports, you get excused from a lot of assignments.

7. If your teacher is a coach, there’s a lot of free time in class and very few assignments.

8. Homework? What’s homework? We do that in class instead of getting a full 90 minutes (block schedule) of instruction or learning activities.

9. Ninety minutes of silent reading while the teacher is on the computer is considered a good use of our time at school.

10. We guess you can learn a lot from movies. We sure see plenty of them, including the same ones year after year or stuff we’ve seen at home already.

11. If you’re involved in enough activities and can’t keep up in class, get your parents to complain and the teachers will lower their expectations!

12. If you get a tough teacher who makes you learn and work, you will remember them fondly forever, and, regardless of the class, it will be what you wish for in every other class you ever take.

13. Never complain about not having enough work, hard enough work, or expectations being low because then the teachers will give you a lower grade to “prove” you wrong.

14. If you have to read a book for a class, it will be depressing. If you already don’t read for pleasure, this will help make sure you never do.

15. If you are smart and non-conformist, someone will call your parents to discuss your “problems.”

16. If you hate school – go anyway! Make sure to take classes with coach-teachers to keep your GPA high. They’ll give you a diploma just to get rid of you!

17. If you want to know if you’re prepared for college, refer to your ACT score, not your high school transcript. That’s what colleges do.

18. If you want to know what college work is like, ask a parent or a college student. Don’t count on your teachers or classes to help prepare you for it.

19. Friends are great. Sometimes they’re the only reason to show up.

20. The lunches still suck, but there are fewer pizzaburgers and less mystery meat.

Oddball Word of the Day

puce (PYOOS): adj. purplish-brown in color; of the color of a flea [from the French word for flea]


(from the guide to MMMW edited by Laurence Urdang)

Doggie Diversions

Gracie may be nearly a year old now, but she’ll always be Baby Gracie. Hoover has finally gotten used to her and her ways, for the most part, but the Baby has one toy that still drives him nuts. (For Hoover, being driven nuts means that he raises his head, looks at her, looks at me, looks back at her and snorts disgustedly, as if to say, “Do you see what she’s up to? Honestly!”) It’s her pink squeaky dumbbell. She loves that toy. She hasn’t put so much as a tooth through it because she loves to run around squeaking it at everyone.

Shortly after we’d first adopted her, and she’d worn out poor old Hoover, she’d grab her pink squeaky, walk over to him, lay the toy on his EAR, and then squeak it like mad. This was a game to her. To Hoover, it was possibly cause for deafness. I only saw him show irritation once – he sat up and growled at her. She peed in submission, put her tail between her legs, and went to hide with her squeaky in her crate. Hoover looked ashamed of himself.

As a result of squeaky overload, we have to ration Baby Gracie’s squeaky time, or we’d all growl at her. When she’s particularly bored (read “dumpster diving and gnawing dishtowels”) I give her back the beloved toy for a few hours.

Last week, after the kids had gotten home from school, Baby Gracie was showing all of us her wonderful squeaky. Hoover was sick to death of it, but he just snorted a couple of times at her. Bunny got tired of the squeaky and diverted Gracie with a tennis ball and a game of indoor fetch. While Gracie was off getting the tennis ball from another room, Hoover ambled over to the squeaky, carefully picked it up and ambled into the den. He was gone a couple of minutes. When he came back, he sat down near me, looked at me, and laughed. He also looked smug. I looked at Bunny and said, “I think he just hid Gracie’s squeaky!”

Bunny went to check and found that Hoover had not just taken it into the den, he had put it behind a box, where it would be hard to find. She giggled with laughter as she was telling me about Hoover’s craftiness, and gave him a big hug and a scratch. I was going to put it down to mere luck that the squeaky toy wound up behind a box, but later than evening, Gracie found it again.

She came leaping and bounding through the living room, flying around the room, squeaking for all she was worth. After about 20 minutes of loud squeaking, hubs got a little tired of it and tried to take it away from her, but she stayed just out of range. Hoover had been lying on the couch, watching her in disgust. He finally oozed off the couch and ambled out of the room. I said to hubs “Guess he couldn’t take the squeaking any more.”

About 3 minutes later, with Gracie still on the squeaky warpath, Hoover came back into the living room and sidled up to hubs. He dropped a tennis ball next to his foot and, clearly not intending to play fetch, went back to his couch and lay back down. I was a little surprised, and told Hubs about the tennis ball diverting Baby Gracie from her squeaky earlier, and what Hoover had done with it. He said, “I think I can take a hint!” and the next time she dashed by him, he chucked a tennis ball for her. She dropped her pink squeaky and went for the ball. Hubs grabbed the squeaky and hid it behind a couch cushion. Hoover let out a sigh of relief and went to sleep.

I’m pretty sure our old dog has taught us a new trick.

Oddball Word of the Day

feckless (FEK-lis): adj. reckless; inefficient, incompetent; without worth or spirit; indifferent

(from the dictionary of MMMW edited by Laurence Urdang)

SpEd Tip #1: Stay Frosty

This is the first piece of advice I offer anyone about to enter the labyrinth of special education, related services, and 504 plans. Most every parent who gets to the point where their child is getting in trouble, getting poor grades, clearly not able to do grade level work, and admits to themselves that the kid might need special ed, gets mad. They’re mad because they think, rightly, that the school should have spotted it, should have done something about it, should have taken steps.

Maybe the parent is mad because they’ve been asking, year after year, for help for their child, and the school district has been delaying, dallying, denying, and generally dinking around, while the child is falling further and further behind. Maybe the school district has lied outright to them on any number of issues.

You’re mad because of a betrayal of expectations. We expect schools to know what they’re doing, know what they’re supposed to do, and then we expect them to do it, by gum! We expect them to be knowledgeable professionals with the best interests of our children as a priority.

We don’t expect them to lie, be incompetent, refuse to help a child in need of assistance, or to make excuses for why it’s OUR fault and not theirs. We don’t expect them to squirm like snakes to get out of providing necessary services. We don’t expect them to complain that they can’t afford help for our children because there are so many other children with greater needs. We don’t expect them to be stupid or malicious.

But they are. And that is why parents get mad; normal expectations have been betrayed, and we are hurt, hyper-alert, and angry.

So, my advice is to “stay frosty”, in other words, get cooled down and stay there while I fill you in on the reality of school districts. There are some good ones who know what they’re supposed to do and do it without even blinking. If your child were in one of those districts, he’d already be in SpEd, and you’d be reasonably well-informed and engaged in the process of getting services for him. Many school districts are not like that.

The problem is rarely malice. It’s usually a combination of ignorance and inappropriate gatekeeping. There are very few people in schools, administrators, teachers, nurses, or others who actually know more than a thimbleful about special education and the law. They only know what they’ve been told, and that’s not much.

Administrators have next to nothing to do with your children. They are the logistical planners for schools – they arrange transportation, days off, negotiate for supplies, review bills from utilities, manage office staff, call for substitute teachers, and deal with similar things. They prepare reports for the school board, report to the superintendent, and are supposed to be well-versed in the general laws regarding schools. The assistant principal may be in charge of the mechanics and procedures of formal discipline. Administrators tend to be fixated on cost containment and will do their gatekeeping (preventing your child access to special services) on that basis.

Teachers are used to dealing with “average” students. The average student acts up occasionally, responds reasonably well to consequences, gets reasonable grades, and is kind of predictable. Teachers feel themselves to be primarily responsible for teaching average students, the middle 80% of children – they rarely know what to do for a gifted child or a child with special needs. They can get belligerent if they feel they’re being blamed for your child’s poor performance (and they always feel that way). They don’t like having to do extra stuff, or complicated stuff, or things that are “more” than what they’re doing for the 80% because they feel like they’re shortchanging their “real” students. Fortunately, they can be very cooperative if the parent knows this and accommodates the TEACHER’S needs, too. Teachers will resist and gatekeep if they think you’re asking too much of them.

The only people in the whole school system who have even a moderate understanding of special needs, disabilities, and services and programs are the people in the Special Education department. Therefore, it’s important to get through the other gatekeepers, the teachers and administrators, and get to the SpEd folks. They will be gatekeepers, too, in kind of a microcosmic reflection of the regular administrators and teachers. They are always understaffed, underfunded, overworked, and you’re always asking for too much for no good reason. Oh, woe is me.

However, it is their job, and their responsibility to know the laws, to follow them, and to get your child the services required. And, eventually, they will, God willing, and with the help of research, good friends and sound advice.

Now that you know that, you need to blow off all the steam that built up while dealing with the gatekeepers in regular education. If you take your anger with you into the SpEd department, it’s only going to make you look hysterical and unreasonable. Stay frosty, because for the SpEdders, special services are their everyday business. Asking for appropriate programs should be done the same way you’d ask the butcher for a pound of good, fresh pork chops, or the greengrocer for oranges from the latest shipment. It’s really no big deal, they have to follow the law, and this group of people knows that.

Then, as legal requirements click along at a pre-determined pace, like a train on the tracks, it’s easy to get frustrated and let all that residual frustration and anger come back again. Don’t do it. Let the process flow; remain frosty.

Remember, as long as you are the coolest cucumber in the room, you’ll last the longest.

Oddball Word of the Day

caduceus (Kuh-DOO-see-ehs) n. the symbolic staff carried by Mercury as herald of the gods, now used as a symbol for medicine

(from the guide to MMMW edicted by Laurence Urdang)

Startitis

Every knitter knows it, and lots of us suffer from it. It’s the uncontrollable urge to put down whatever project you’re working on right now and start something new. Maybe you want to get your hands on a different color, yarn weight, texture, something sparkly, something not-sparkly, something bland you can knit in the dark, or just something NEW. Even knitters of extraordinary character and will power may hear the siren call of Startitis – they’ll hang onto their current projects like moray eels until they’re finished, but they hear the wilding call nonetheless.

I kind of gave up fighting Startitis a decade or so ago and decided to call it either Knitting BiPolar Disorder or Seasonal Affective Knitting Disorder. Mine cycles, and, fortunately for me, while I don’t spin fleece, and can spin words and ideas. My KBPD/SAKD (see, it’s official – it has an acronym!) goes like this…

September: It’s still warmish out, but the leaves are starting to change color, so it must be time to knit. I start and finish sweaters in September. I finish up leftover projects from earlier in the year.

October and November: I start thicker sweaters, the kids start asking for them, and then I want to knit them. I think about knitting myself a sweater and may even go buy some faboo yarn for one. (Years later, it will wind up being a sweater for someone else.) I knit hats and scarves and work on trickier sweaters. I get a Great Idea for using up oddball yarn in Yet Another Afghan. I finish up the last of the hangover projects, but I still have four or five things on the needles.

December: I knit things that are not for Christmas, but that I can put down easily without forgetting what I was doing, such as socks for myself, mittens, hats, and Knit for Kids sweaters for donations. I do not take requests for knitting during the month because it’s already completely knuts around here.

January: I start hating all my works in progress. The scarf is bulgier than I like and doesn’t show off the yarn right. The thick sweater p*sses me off because the yarn is color pooling or I found twigs in it, or I’m running short. I have so many pairs of socks that I don’t want to start another pair, but then I find really excellent yarn that I’ve been looking for all my life, buy it, and cast on a sock. I’m tired of the afghan for some reason – too heavy, too random, the stitch is too fussy for my short attention span, something. I don’t like any of my yarn and start window shopping on Ebay and online yarn stores.

February: I’m depressed. I have all these projects and nothing’s really DONE. I’m still convinced they’re worthy, so I don’t frog them all, but I can’t stand to work another stitch on any of them. I buy another skein of sock yarn, just to look at and touch. I eat too much chocolate and cook comfort food. My whole family sleeps too much from carbohydrate overload. Right about the end of the month, I’ll pick up some project I sidelined last fall and finish it.

March and April: I realize I need to finish the heavy, winter stuff before it gets too warm, so the mojo kicks in and I knit like a bat outta hell to get the afghan, scarf, sweater, and fancy patterned thing done. I set aside lighter weight projects to work on later. I might buy more needles, “to complete my set of…”

May: I’m depressed. I still have at least one project that I know I won’t get to until the thermometer dips into the 30’s, so I put it in the Naughty Closet. Sometimes projects go there because they were naughty and ticked me off; sometimes projects go there because I was naughty and didn’t finish them during the “right” season. I notice I have too much yarn and way too many patterns. I sort through the yarn and match it up with patterns. I throw out a few patterns. I think really hard about getting rid of some pattern books. I rummage through all the rest of my yarn and realize I have some nice stuff, so I move it to the front or top of its storage zone.

June and July: Mornings are mindless knitting. I knit things from cotton or non-wool – dishcloths, coasters, mini afghans of washable fiber for my dogs, small clothes for Bunny’s beloved Theodora bear, and maybe a couple hats from sock wool.

August: I’m out of cotton, which is good because I hate it now. I can’t stand the sight of another hat, another mitten, or another sock. I cast on a shawl to work on because by the time it gets heavy, it’ll be cold out, or so I tell myself. I box up donations and ship them out.

And then it’s September again....

My family thinks I have wooly caterpillar DNA because they watch what I knit and when. If I’m already starting a sweater in late August, they start airing out their parkas and checking felted hats and mittens for pest damage because they know there’s a cold winter coming. They want to get their requests for repairs or replacements in early.

Me, I’m just glad I’ve learned to find a way to make my KBPD/SAKD work for me – stuff does actually get finished before people grow out of its size, and I do cycle through my yarn pretty well.

I’ll be posting pictures of what got knitted after it gets washed and blocked. We already wore most of it since this has been a right nippy winter so far.

Oddball Word of the Day

zygodactyl (zii-guh-DAK-till): adj. with the toes of each foot arranged in pairs, one pair pointing forward and one pair backward, as in a parrot

(from the guide to MMMW edited by Laurence Urdang)

The Unbearable Whiteness of Being...

...in my backyard. We had another 6 inch snow last night, and it was even prettier, although harder to photograph, while coming down in big, fat flakes. Yes, that is our tacky above-ground pool.

Oddball Word of the Day

therblig (THUR blig): n. any element in an operation or procedure that can be subjected to time and motion study

(from the guide to MMMW edited by Laurence Urdang)

My Ding Dong

My kids, especially the two ADHD boys, are night owls. If you know ADHD people, you know that an alarm clock just doesn’t do the job, and for the last 20 years, I’ve had to learn a thousand, million ways to wake them up and get them dressed, fed, medicated, cleaned up, and out the door for school.

I’ve tried hollering, banging on their bedroom doors with wooden spoons, metal pots, and my flat hand. I’ve bounced cheerfully on their beds until they’re queasy and roll out of bed before they barf. I’ve tried tickling, letting other family members tickle them, and I have sent dogs into their rooms to bark, whine, slobber, and frolic them awake. My favorite method involving the dogs has been to stand at the doorway with the dog nearby and throw bits of dog treats onto the sleeping night owl, so that the dog bounds energetically to and fro around on the sleeper. My oldest son still refers to this tactic as the “wet biscuit” method.

I’m kind of tired of finding ways to wake them up in a timely manner. My creative juices are not really flowing in that direction any more. I’ve managed to turn myself into the biggest lark in the house, getting up around 5 am, if not earlier, every day of the week, and I have no more patience for waking the comatose.

Well, over my hiatus, my husband was working on my mother-in-law’s First Alert clone alarm system. Since her husband died and she moved into a quad home area with other seniors, we all agreed that a pendant she could push for help would be a good thing. This one phones my husband’s cell phone first, and she can then speak or just keep mashing the button. If someone else is in the house, but maybe not right where they could see her, she can also push a button to make a heinously loud alarm sound from the main unit, and then the other person would have to find her and turn off the alarm from the pendant. Something went wrong with it, and my techie spouse brought it home to fiddle with. It did make an ear-splitting racket, no doubt about it.

He couldn’t seem to get it to dial the phone again, and in disgust said, “well, it would make a good alarm bell for in the house, I guess, but she really needs one that will dial out.” I nodded in agreement, and then called for Doodle to come and do one of his chores. He didn’t show up. I called again. Still no Doodle. I was cranky and got up to go find him and give him a good glaring-at, when a light bulb appeared over hubby’s head.

“Hey,” he said, “why don’t I put the alarm box in his room and give you the pendant? Then you can just press the button and not have to yell?” I looked at him with wonder. “Can you do that? He might unplug it,” I said. “I’ll hide it,” he replied, and he went off, sent the Doodle in my direction, and installed the alarm. We didn’t tell Doodle about it because we are sneaky, evil parents.

Later on, Doodle was sloughing off on another chore, and I opened my mouth to holler for him, spotted the pendant and pushed the alarm button. A sound like the spaceship from that “Klaatu-Barada-Nicktu” movie went off in his room, and he came dashing out of his room yelling, “HEY! WHAT THE HECK IS THAT?” I pushed the “off” button, which generates a two tone sound like the elevator in a posh department store, and said, “It’s my Doodle Call. I don’t have to yell for you any more,” and a wide, wide grin spread across my face.

“Holy Crap,” said Doodle, “well, what do you need me for?” “Dish chore,” I replied, and went back to the living room enveloped in a feeling of bliss I haven’t experienced since my last encounter with a chocolate-raspberry truffle.

The next day, my daughter decided to ignore me when I called for her, and I wound up banging on her door after the third call, opening it up, and finding her in front of her computer with a pair of headphones on, be-bopping to heaven only knows what. “Hey,” I said, “Didn’t you hear me calling you?”

“Well, kind of,” she replied, “but I was really enjoying this song.”

“Why didn’t you just say so? I could have waited,” I said.

“Ummmm,” was her response.

“Ah, I see,” I said.

That evening, I asked my husband if he could find another buzzer and put it in her room. I asked that it be loud enough to be heard through headphones and rock music. “No problem,” he said, “I love home improvement stuff,” and he winked at me and headed off to the hardware store.

When he came back, he had a remote doorbell, which generates a different, tinny kind of two-tone chime, and he snuck into her room when she wasn’t looking and installed it. He came back into the living room, and we grinned evilly at one another. “Need her to do anything?” I asked. He thought for a minute. “I’ll bet the dogs are in need of food and water,” he said. “I’m on it,” I replied, and pushed the bell. “HEY!” we heard, “NOT ME, TOO!” and she came into the living room looking very cranky and said, “WHAT?!” in that very special way teenaged girls have.

Hubs said, “I think your poor puppies are hungry and thirsty. Please feed and water them,” and he smiled innocently at her. “Oh, GOD,” she said and stumped off, grumbling the entire time she was filling their bowls.

“Two down,” I said, looking at hubby and quirking an eyebrow, “do we dare go for a three-fer? It’ll have to be the loudest one made, Spot sleeps pretty deeply.”

“I can do that,” replied hubs, “I love a challenge.”

He had to hit three hardware stores before finding an alarm just a few decibels below the “illegal noise level” range. It’s been hard-wired into Spot’s room. I have a little key chain now, with four alarm buttons on it (we decided not to let them hide in the basement, pretending they couldn’t hear any alarms). Each one gives a different tone, and I can choose among eight different tunes for the one in the basement.

I don’t have to yell anymore at all. I just gently push a button and wait. If no one shows up, I push it again, and again, and again. Someone always shows up. They may not be happy, but they are all getting to school on time, and I don’t have to yell until I’m cranky, or get up from whatever else I’m doing to hunt them down to remind them of chores.

I don’t think I’ve been this happy since I first discovered orgasms.

Oddball Word of the Day

Dead Man's Hand: (in poker) a hand containing two aces and two eights

(from the guide to MMMW edited by Laurence Urdang)

Fiddle Dee Dee

Well, it’s taken me longer to return than I expected, but here I am, in all my winter glory – snow-covered and chilly, but hanging in there. The short list of what’s been going on since I last posted looks like this:

Dad’s not dead.
Neither is anyone else in the family.

After two 24-hour + power outages in extremely cold weather, we now have a new refrigerator and a new range.

The septic field is fine, but we were nearly too late getting the tank pumped.
We have a new appreciation for phones that work consistently.
And garage doors that are not too heavy to manually lift.

I’ve made a half dozen pairs of wool socks for myself.

Two of my kids are older.

We survived the holidays more easily than I expected.

I’m at the leading edge of a “new” career.
It’s very time-consuming, but cool.

The baby dog, Gracie, is calmer, spayed, and seems to have given up shoe-hunting in favor of digging holes through the snow and permafrost and into the vicinity of telephone lines.

Urk. I want to thank (picture me in a modest evening gown at the podium) everyone who kept stopping by during my long hiatus, everyone who sent me a note, and everyone who didn’t publicly lambaste me as a totally useless wiener. Hopefully, I’ll be able to get back on a fairly regular schedule for writing.

So, the new career… Well, as you may remember, I have advocated for my own children because of their ADHD over the years – with school districts. I’ve also volunteered time and scarce brain cells to assist others lost in the morass of special education law and procedures. I’ve done some of it entirely by remote, over the computer, some of it in person, hunched over tables in the library, chairs in the doctor’s office, or while knitting at Chix with Stix.

A few months ago, another lady briefly joined the women’s group, and she has a child with profound disabilities. The table discussion that day concerned a variety of special education issues, and some of the other ladies are teachers, substitute teachers, or just have concerns about themselves, loved ones, or offspring. Apparently, without realizing it, I came off as being a real whiz kid on special ed issues. The moderator recommended that I consider becoming a paid advocate.

I pondered it and discarded the idea, feeling insecure and inadequate. She brought it up again in another group, so I pondered it again, did some research, and set my subconscious to the task of grinding away at the idea. I got closer to the precipice labeled “OK”.

Once again, in mid-January, the moderator, a clinical psychologist, brought it up, and I said, “yes”. She promptly handed me a referral. Tough case, too. It set my juices flowing, got blood pumping through my brain again, and I reached down into the dark, damp dungeon of my insecurities and examined them more critically.

I’ve spent twelve years advocating on an on-going basis for my own children. I’ve done a bang-up job of it, and I’ve had success with the assistance I’ve given other people. I checked state law and requirements, joined some support lists, and realized that I actually do have a clue about how to do this. I’ve surprised myself by feeling reasonably confident, competent and enthusiastic.

It’s that last feeling that really surprises me the most. Over the years as a stay-at-home mom, I’ve lost enthusiasm for rejoining the work world. I know how much it would take away from my ability to be a good mom to my kids, to keep my household running without lots of stress, and to maintain basic standards. I’ve learned to value myself and my needs, and they can sometimes be time-consuming. It’s been hard to try to figure out a way to put all of that in a framework so that nothing gets so badly neglected that it becomes an “issue” unto itself.

I tried signing up for at-home work, and that was a bust for several reasons. I tried signing up to be a secret shopper type person, and, really, there’s nothing intellectually fulfilling about it, and it felt more like tedious busywork. I’m not the sort to sell real estate, and other things just don’t generate enough income to make them more than a hobby. I am, however, a relentless researcher, and that’s a fine trait indeed for a special education advocate.

So, anyway, I decided on a fee schedule, checked the market, checked my conscience, and heard the “Click”. Everything fell into a place that felt like it fit. I met with my new (first) clients, and, more “click”-ing. Then, I let the data-mining juggernaut within loose. I roared through stacks of special education law, paperwork, historical data, case law, due process decisions, educational files going back nearly a decade, descriptions of applicable disorders and conditions, and felt… invigorated. Taller. Like I was breathing easier. Engaged. Focused.

I kept my clients’ butts covered and set loose the twin dogs of strategy and salesmanship. And we won. Everything the clients wanted. And everyone is still happy, the child is protected and in the right place with the right program in place, the clients can sleep at night, the school district was guided to the appropriate decisions and does not appear to feel steamrolled, and I can sleep, too.

It worked. I did it right, and fate smiled. I can, in fact, do this.

I’ve gotten two more referrals since then, and we’ll see how those go. Sometimes people are not going to really need me, they’ll just need someone to adjust their compasses. Other times, folks may have unreasonable expectations and it might not be a good fit for us to work together. But this does feel right for me at this point in time. I can make some measurable money and still be a mom and wife. I can say “no” if that’s the right choice. My brains are turning back into brains instead of being motherhood haggis, and I can take pride in doing a hard job to the best of my ability.

Wish me luck.