Last week I told #1 son's story; here is #2 son's story.
The first thing you need to know is that my 7YO son is an amazing, bright, sunny, funny, intelligent, loving, loyal, curious, brave, affectionate little boy who happens to have a genetic condition known as 47,XXY. Some people refer to this genetic arrangement at Klinefelter's Syndrome (KS); I won't argue with anyone about that designation; those semantics could be a whole blog post. We'll stick with 47,XXY and argue the KS thing another day. I only bring it up because more people have heard that name.
Some of the pediatric symptoms of 47,XXY can include low muscle tone, milestone delays in gross motor and/or fine motor development, delayed loss of infant reflexes, poor suck reflex, delayed speech development, tall stature starting by age 5, continuing delayed gross and/or fine motor development after age 5, motor planning and motor dyspraxia, executive function problems, ADHD, autistic-like symptoms, anxiety, sensory-integrative disorders, epilepsy, auditory processing disorder, difficulty learning to read, delayed development of social skills, and several more. As 47,XXY is a spectrum disorder (the extra X chromosome can come from Mom or from Dad, and some people may have an extra X in just a few cells instead of all of them (mosaicism) each person is treated to a distinct subset of these symptoms, but rarely would he have all of them. Some lucky few have few to none. What is true is that Son#2 was lucky to be diagnosed-- only about 25% of males are diagnosed during childhood in the United States, despite this being a fairly common genetic arrangement, with 1/667 males being 47,XXY, and 1/500 live births being a male or female in possession of an extra 1 or more X or Y chromosomes. Please see www.thefocusfoundation.org or www.genetic.org for more information! In fact, there is a great conference coming up in April in Annapolis, hosted by The Focus Foundation!
My husband and I first suspected son #2 had issues pretty much right away, but were reassured by our pediatrician. By 12 months of age, we were certain of it-- low muscle tone, delayed milestones (not one or two, but most of them) yet signs of good intelligence and spunk were there in abundance, and our pediatrician blew off our concerns. An evaluator misreported his status at 15 months, but when he didn't walk until 23 months or speak his first words until 26 months, we finally got him some attention, though even then the pediatrician was pretty dismissive that he needed any special attention. He did, at that point though, finally qualify for some state services including physical and speech therapy, beginning just prior to his third birthday, and on his third birthday he was handed off to our local school district, still sunny, smart, friendly, shy, eager to learn, loving, and unable to climb, run, jump, get two feet off the ground, or slide, swing, or climb.
At his first IEP evaluation, we got a preview of things to come. The school district declared that he had made such progress, having actually gotten two feet off the ground at the same time in an attempt to jump, and getting up to almost 80% proficiency in speech production, that his IEP should be canceled. Then the physical therapist arrived at the meeting and lit everyone up. Very attached to Son#2, and impressed by his tough work ethic in therapy, she fought for him in a way we didn't yet know how to do, and the IEP was quickly rewritten, and it stuck for another year-- his second year of preschool.
The second year was more of the same. I left the meeting puzzled and disappointed, and wishing I had brought an advocate with me, wondering how the school could sit there with a room full of specialists, and tell me it was up to me to explain to them what his needs were and how to help him, or else the IEP would be cancelled. Weren't they supposed to have done an evaluation? And why didn't the evaluations they did do, look at more than just benchmark averages? A young, bright kid can use his intelligence to "cover" for specific deficiencies that will come back to bite him later . . . shouldn't these people who have advanced degrees in specific fields such as speech and psychology be aware of this fact? Where are the subtests? Where is the data with classroom performance showing the discrepancy between his ability and his classroom performance, and why are they asking ME to show this? Isn't this their job? Even after protesting the evaluation, we met again with what looked like the same cast of characters and ultimately were left with a 504 (a plan provided under a different law, the ADA, which provides accommodations, not services, and a lot less legal protection for the student), not an IEP (defined under the IDEAS law, which provides services and legal rights) as he headed into kindergarten, and an extraordinarily unsatisfying "solution" that for his dysgraphia and other issues, he would simply not have to complete his work. I'll stop there; the issues this brings up are rather obvious, the reasons we didn't take the district to court are not, but those issues are not the subject of this blog. The fact remains that the district deliberately was playing dirty pool with son#2 and several other children and they knew it. Off he went through Kindergarten and first grade with a 504 plan that didn't really meet his needs. We were "assured" against our better knowledge that he was performing at grade level. In short, the school dug in their heels and cancelled son #2's IEP coincident with his diagnosis of 47,XXY, and were told that it was because WE could not PROVE he was one of the over 70% of children with the condition who suffered academic consequences from it, and that it was our burden, and not theirs, to demonstrate that he had a problem (that is nearly a direct quote from the district special ed person).
What a surprise, then, to arrive at a parent teacher conference and be told for the first time, nearly halfway into the school year a year and a half later, that our son was in the "high risk" reading group, as his reading was so far behind grade level benchmarks. Not one person from the school had contacted us to let us know of our son's placement in this group. It was at this point that we contacted Dr. Carole Samango-Sprouse of The Focus Foundation, and set up a multi-day, in-depth academic and physical evaluation for son#2. We inquired about getting the district to pay for the outside evaluation, as there are provisions that require them to do so. However, they once again stonewalled us; we were now a year and a half without an IEP for our son, and they wanted to institute a lengthy process to approve this evaluator, and we were not willing to make our son wait yet another six months just to start testing, and we went out of pocket. It was well worth the effort. We ended up with a detailed report explaining exactly where son#2 was strong (sometimes, surprisingly strong! Yay!) and where he was running smack into roadblocks. The report confirmed what we already knew: We had a very, very bright little boy, whose language difficulties were causing him to go unrecognized in areas where he was strong, and thus not being permitted to progress as rapidly as he could. These same difficulties also were not being addressed, and thus were not permitting him to overcome them and progress as rapidly as he could in the areas where he struggled. All of his roadblocks were of a type that CAN be overcome, with appropriate, timely support, and the clock was ticking. The report also outlined specific recommendations for how to address our son's challenges. Upon receiving the detailed report back from Dr. Samango-Sprouse, I sent a copy of it to the school, requesting a follow-up meeting to implement her suggestions. I received no response. Normally, this "oversight" would have brought on a firestorm of protest and documentation from me, however, this brings us up to our very happy four months in Saint Paul, MN.
Thank goodness for Horace Mann Elementary School in St. Paul, MN. What a gem of a place! Son#2 was welcomed with open arms while we were there on sabbatical. Knowing that they had little incentive to invest in this child, as he was to be there for such a short time, they nonetheless said that every child is important to them, and every child will learn while at Horace Mann. And son#2 did indeed learn. He received support in every area where he needed it. He received support in areas where Dr. Samango-Sprouse's report identified needs and where they found creative ways that I never thought of to challenge him. He was encouraged to sail in areas like math where he was really strong, separating out the language problems from the math. And the other students just adopted and helped him, taking him right in and accepting him socially as one of them-- talk about "Minnesota nice!" He actually asked for additional school time, similar to his brother, showing up an hour early for school for chess club, and staying an hour late, for art lessons.
We returned from Minnesota with a comprehensive IEP in place, and were heartened to learn that son#2 was returning to his old school, to a classroom staffed by a teacher with a degree in special education! How awesome is that? Apparently not too awesome. After a long and frustrating (probably longer than legally permisable) wait, we finally met as a team. We discovered that son#2 had been inexplicably placed in the remedial math group, instead of the advanced group. I'll fast-forward, and give my favorite quote of the entire meeting. First the context: This district has nearly 20,000 students. That's correct: 20,000 students. And that's only about half of the families-- at least half have gone over the state line to better schools, gone to private schools, fled to charter schools (technically still district schools) or fled to neighboring districts. So here's the great quote: We don't know how to help your son, because we don't have very many special education students in this district. And of the kids who probably are special needs, not many families apply for social benefits; the families in this district tend to be "high quality" families who take care of their problems at home, instead of dumping them on us.
Remember, in part one, where I had a day when I filled out the paperwork to become a homeschooling family? I submitted the paperwork to the state exactly ten minutes after that statement came out of the mouth of a district-level special education person, and son#2 began staying home with me to homeschool the following week, when he conveniently (honesty) got sick (son#1 began the week after that, ten days after the state paperwork was submitted). We had two options. Take them to court, and sacrifice our sons' educations while we sucked away our time, money, emotional and spiritual and physical well-being over a course of probably a handful of years over a sysiphean task (this district has already been successfully sued over failing to provide IEP-mandated services to young students-- obviously, they didn't learn a thing from the experience). Or, pour our time, love, and resources into actually giving our sons an education.
Here's the final kicker: During the week that son#2 began homeschooling and son#1 was finishing up, son#1 was interrogated by son#2's student teacher as to his whereabouts. Then the school nurse was directed to call us and try to scare us out of homeschooling, insisting (at the principal's direction) that we probably hadn't registered properly with the state and could expect a visit from the truant officer. I wished them good luck with that, gave them the name of the state liaison to home schools, and suggested they send any such requests through her office, and asked if they'd like her email address, since I was in contact with her, as I was already quite legally registered as a state school.
We are now 2 & 1 weeks into our new venture, and both boys are showing signs of being extraordinarily happy about the change. They're working harder than ever, having both been "promoted" a grade by their new teacher/principal/superintendant/leader of the pack/momma duck, or more than one grade in certain subjects. They're taking cool subjects. They're writing on the walls and windows (a timeline and hand-drawn map), reading Homer's Odyssey (a prose version), and when they don't really grasp something, which is rare, but can happen, they're encouraged to go back and explore it in another way until they do get it, not to just forge on ahead because there's some new deadline coming up as there is in the public school classroom. We have no deadlines other than those we choose to impose upon ourselves. As a result, they're learning faster than ever, because they're eager.
And my moderate-to-mildly language-disabled child? His favorite new subjects (being taught a grade-level ahead in one case, and brand-new in the other) are . . . grammar and Latin.
Showing posts with label Horace Mann Elementary. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Horace Mann Elementary. Show all posts
Friday, March 4, 2011
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Journey Toward Schooling at Home
I will never homeschool. Never.
My parents were both public school teachers. One of my Uncles was a public school teacher, another, a private school teacher. My grandmother was a public school teacher. My husband's grandmother was a public school librarian, his grandfather, a school teacher, then principal, and eventually, district superintendent. To say that our family has been in the education business is like saying the Bushes are a little into politics (I like to think we were substantially better at it). (It's my blog. I can take sides if I want to). Sure, my kids will encounter teachers that don't mesh with them very well. Learning to deal with that is a life lesson. You will grow up, move out, and get a job. What will happen if you only expect to work with and for people who think exactly like you? You'll end up living in a cave, eating grass and living on government handouts, bitching about the government. My kids will certainly encounter teachers who teach them things that I disagree with. No problem. That's what the family dinner table and long drives in the car with no videos or gaming devices are all about. We explain our viewpoint to them, and teach them critical thinking skills, and that it's important to evaluate information on their own.
I had a really nice job. A fantastic job, in fact. I had a boss who was very open-minded; she was very family-friendly to work for. Christmas concerts, parent-teacher conferences, sick kids, were all workable issues. Working and parenting was not a "conflict" to be resolved for the organized parent, and the job itself was phenomenal-- as a genetics research assistant for a prominent children's hospital, I had a very varied and interesting work day every day, the kind of day people would ask about and actually listen to the answer with high interest. I was interested in what I did, and although I hated saying good-bye to my kids at daycare each morning, I looked forward to arriving at work, too, and to the people in my lab.
My older son had a terrific year in private kindergarten. Team-taught by an engaging head teacher, a certified fitness instructor and art teacher, and a professional music teacher, he had the kind of kindergarten year most parents dream about, at a local institution known as Educare. Despite entering the program a year early (he was only four) he thrived. His younger brother, despite some known developmental delays, was also showing signs of being very bright, and was also enjoying himself in Educare's preschool and daycare programs. Life was good!
The following year, #1 son (in birth order, my children tell me, not love order, when I told them I could not refer to them that way) started at the local public school. Due to his age and height, an agonizing decision was made to enroll him in kindergarten again, rather than applying for an exception to place him in first grade. Trouble started almost immediately. Already an avid reader and excellent speller, he and we were instructed that he would do best by following their "research tested" program. Soon, he could no longer spell. An enthusiastic rule-follower, he followed their advice, and only spelled words "how they sounded" instead of how he knew they were spelled. Now in the fourth grade, he is still re-learning how to spell words he had been spelling correctly at age four, thanks to their "research based, highly successful program" that was designed for kids who have never cracked a book open prior to kindergarten, but definitely not designed for kids who can already read. He also arrived home every night HUNGRY for good reading material, as he had been forced to read "baby books" in school. Fortunately, we insisted on half-day kindergarten only, and re-enrolled him in the private Educare program again for the afternoons, so he didn't go completely mad.
First grade went no better. He was handed off to a very, very strict teacher. He could do no right, it seemed. Told to sit and write, he would sit and first try to think and plan his writing. Suddenly, writing time was over, and he was punished by staying in for recess (sent to "work room") for not doing his work. Work room was a set of tables placed on stage at the front of the cafeteria. In public. He was told he was a "slow worker, a daydreamer, with bad work habits." Always kept in from recess, my extreme rule-minding son (5 years of daycare, and only sent to time-out once! Once!) was a mess. I conferenced with the teacher. Recess punishments continued. Homework was assigned to the tune of 45 minutes or more per night. In the first grade. As a result of always being indoors at recess, friendships were not being developed. No talking was allowed during class or lunch, and he was shy to begin with. So there was no socialization going on during school. He was miserable and hated school. Already, he was begging me to school him at home. No way, said I. You have to learn how to deal with people you don't get along wtih. At no time did I stop to think . . . this is not a short adult that I am talking to. This was a six year old.
In second-grade, it was more of the same. Again, he overheard teachers saying that he was not a very good worker, even though academically, he was at the top of his class in ability. For some reason, reasoning, thinking, and reading were not valued in the second grade. All classwork was based on speed and speed alone, and all was done under pressure. Son #1 came home and told me everyone's test scores, something the teacher disclosed to all of the students. His feelings about school became more and more negative, even if his naturally positive personality kept him going. For reasons that were never adequately explained to me, he was kept out of the gifted program that year. 8 girls from his class were placed in the program.
In the third grade, he had stopped trying to write, because he had stopped believing in himself entirely. A gifted and advanced writer in Kindergarten, he was now writing below grade level and was happy to stay there. He did have a teacher who relaxed the pressure a bit and tried to encourage him, but the time-dependent nature of the school was still there, partly because the "standardized tests" apparently demand some timed tasks. Therefore most tasks were also timed, rather than evaluating the quality of the work or thought process. He was back in the gifted program, which provided some relief, and his teacher did allow him to keep free reading books in his desk to read when he finished his general busywork (other than writing) early because it was below his level and she didn't have anything to challenge him with until the rest of the class caught up. This wasn't an ideal solution, but he loves reading, so at least it was something. And by allowing him to choose the books, he was reading something appropriate for him instead of "for the average 3rd grader." Recess was still an issue. Fewer recesses were being missed, but the social pattern had been established.
Finally, in the fourth grade, a breath of fresh air! We went on a sabbatical to the amazing and beautiful city of St. Paul, Minnesota, where the boys enrolled in Horace Mann Elementary School. There, they were welcomed with open arms, and challenged with a fantastic education. #1 son's classroom was furnished with bookshelves galore-- its own library of sorts-- couches, beanbags, and recliners wonderful for reading. His teacher was warm and welcoming, and had never heard of "work room." She didn't believe in "high pressure" writing, and in fact most of his writing was done at home for homework, which was never a burdensome amount. She believed mistakes were okay, and a part of the learning process, not a horror to be signed by parents and sent back in to be documented. And in four short months, she helped him learn to believe in himself and his abilities again. He began to feel smart, to enjoy writing, discovering, learning, branching out his reading interests, and the social growth! By the time we left, he had so many friends, people who thought being smart was cool! He had a separate science teacher, who expected experiments to be written up in lab form-- a hypothesis, procedure, equipment, data, observations, and conclusions, with charts and diagrams. Live animals were used. He was in a book club. He went to school early for chess club, stayed late to study Japanese, and went back on Saturdays to take up fencing. Now THIS was school! He had a great librarian who made using the library something to look forward to, and worked hard to put books into the hands of children! Leaving St. Paul was a sad, sad thing.
However, we returned from St. Paul full of hope-- we now knew that going to school could be a fantastic experience, full of excitement, discovery, encouragement, academic challenge, social fulfillment, and personal achievement. Perhaps 4th grade would be fantastic!
Within 2 weeks of returning home, research into homeschooling had begun in earnest. Formerly a staunch skeptic, I was now open to the possibility. School choice in our area doesn't work very well (many of the very good schools are closed to choice due to overenrollment). Charter schools are often lottery only, and we've entered the lotteries year after year and never won the lottery. Private schools are either incompatible with our religious beliefs or wildly expensive (some of the better ones actually cite $19,000/year tuition! Even with financial aid, that's going to be ridiculous). We've looked at moving, and it is a) expensive initially b)involves higher taxes across the state line and c)expensive over the long haul in terms of a longer commute for my husband, in terms of time, wear and tear, and gasoline for the car. And it offers no guarantees as budget cutbacks continue in every state, particularly for son#2, whose story will be told in an upcoming post.
I began volunteering in the library as soon as we returned home and school had resumed. On one occasion, I stopped in and found a half dozen students, unsupervised, running around chasing each other with pencils. They were the special education class, there for their reading enrichment time. Where is the reading specialist? We don't know. What are you supposed to be doing? Reading something. I settled them down, got them all books, and set them to reading. An hour passed, and the reading specialist popped in and sent them to lunch. These are all children who have reading help specified for them in their IEP's, and this is the extra help they are getting? And where was this person who was supposedly supervising them all that time, let alone actually helping them? I wasn't scheduled to be there-- I had just popped in! On another day, I was volunteering, and someone came by to pick up my son's class to walk them back to class. Her exact words: "WHY do I HEAR talking?? YOUR MOUTHS should BE SHUT unless it is RECESS time. DO NOT open your MOUTHS until RECESS!" It was 11am. Recess is not scheduled until 2pm. I nearly tucked a kid under each arm and herded them all before me out the front door as fast as I could, yelling, "Run, run, run for your lives! I will teach you all!"
I went home, pulled up the state form for registering a homeschool, and filled it out that day.
Coming chapters:
Journey toward schooling at home, part 2
What I learned in the first week of homeschooling.
My parents were both public school teachers. One of my Uncles was a public school teacher, another, a private school teacher. My grandmother was a public school teacher. My husband's grandmother was a public school librarian, his grandfather, a school teacher, then principal, and eventually, district superintendent. To say that our family has been in the education business is like saying the Bushes are a little into politics (I like to think we were substantially better at it). (It's my blog. I can take sides if I want to). Sure, my kids will encounter teachers that don't mesh with them very well. Learning to deal with that is a life lesson. You will grow up, move out, and get a job. What will happen if you only expect to work with and for people who think exactly like you? You'll end up living in a cave, eating grass and living on government handouts, bitching about the government. My kids will certainly encounter teachers who teach them things that I disagree with. No problem. That's what the family dinner table and long drives in the car with no videos or gaming devices are all about. We explain our viewpoint to them, and teach them critical thinking skills, and that it's important to evaluate information on their own.
I had a really nice job. A fantastic job, in fact. I had a boss who was very open-minded; she was very family-friendly to work for. Christmas concerts, parent-teacher conferences, sick kids, were all workable issues. Working and parenting was not a "conflict" to be resolved for the organized parent, and the job itself was phenomenal-- as a genetics research assistant for a prominent children's hospital, I had a very varied and interesting work day every day, the kind of day people would ask about and actually listen to the answer with high interest. I was interested in what I did, and although I hated saying good-bye to my kids at daycare each morning, I looked forward to arriving at work, too, and to the people in my lab.
My older son had a terrific year in private kindergarten. Team-taught by an engaging head teacher, a certified fitness instructor and art teacher, and a professional music teacher, he had the kind of kindergarten year most parents dream about, at a local institution known as Educare. Despite entering the program a year early (he was only four) he thrived. His younger brother, despite some known developmental delays, was also showing signs of being very bright, and was also enjoying himself in Educare's preschool and daycare programs. Life was good!
The following year, #1 son (in birth order, my children tell me, not love order, when I told them I could not refer to them that way) started at the local public school. Due to his age and height, an agonizing decision was made to enroll him in kindergarten again, rather than applying for an exception to place him in first grade. Trouble started almost immediately. Already an avid reader and excellent speller, he and we were instructed that he would do best by following their "research tested" program. Soon, he could no longer spell. An enthusiastic rule-follower, he followed their advice, and only spelled words "how they sounded" instead of how he knew they were spelled. Now in the fourth grade, he is still re-learning how to spell words he had been spelling correctly at age four, thanks to their "research based, highly successful program" that was designed for kids who have never cracked a book open prior to kindergarten, but definitely not designed for kids who can already read. He also arrived home every night HUNGRY for good reading material, as he had been forced to read "baby books" in school. Fortunately, we insisted on half-day kindergarten only, and re-enrolled him in the private Educare program again for the afternoons, so he didn't go completely mad.
First grade went no better. He was handed off to a very, very strict teacher. He could do no right, it seemed. Told to sit and write, he would sit and first try to think and plan his writing. Suddenly, writing time was over, and he was punished by staying in for recess (sent to "work room") for not doing his work. Work room was a set of tables placed on stage at the front of the cafeteria. In public. He was told he was a "slow worker, a daydreamer, with bad work habits." Always kept in from recess, my extreme rule-minding son (5 years of daycare, and only sent to time-out once! Once!) was a mess. I conferenced with the teacher. Recess punishments continued. Homework was assigned to the tune of 45 minutes or more per night. In the first grade. As a result of always being indoors at recess, friendships were not being developed. No talking was allowed during class or lunch, and he was shy to begin with. So there was no socialization going on during school. He was miserable and hated school. Already, he was begging me to school him at home. No way, said I. You have to learn how to deal with people you don't get along wtih. At no time did I stop to think . . . this is not a short adult that I am talking to. This was a six year old.
In second-grade, it was more of the same. Again, he overheard teachers saying that he was not a very good worker, even though academically, he was at the top of his class in ability. For some reason, reasoning, thinking, and reading were not valued in the second grade. All classwork was based on speed and speed alone, and all was done under pressure. Son #1 came home and told me everyone's test scores, something the teacher disclosed to all of the students. His feelings about school became more and more negative, even if his naturally positive personality kept him going. For reasons that were never adequately explained to me, he was kept out of the gifted program that year. 8 girls from his class were placed in the program.
In the third grade, he had stopped trying to write, because he had stopped believing in himself entirely. A gifted and advanced writer in Kindergarten, he was now writing below grade level and was happy to stay there. He did have a teacher who relaxed the pressure a bit and tried to encourage him, but the time-dependent nature of the school was still there, partly because the "standardized tests" apparently demand some timed tasks. Therefore most tasks were also timed, rather than evaluating the quality of the work or thought process. He was back in the gifted program, which provided some relief, and his teacher did allow him to keep free reading books in his desk to read when he finished his general busywork (other than writing) early because it was below his level and she didn't have anything to challenge him with until the rest of the class caught up. This wasn't an ideal solution, but he loves reading, so at least it was something. And by allowing him to choose the books, he was reading something appropriate for him instead of "for the average 3rd grader." Recess was still an issue. Fewer recesses were being missed, but the social pattern had been established.
Finally, in the fourth grade, a breath of fresh air! We went on a sabbatical to the amazing and beautiful city of St. Paul, Minnesota, where the boys enrolled in Horace Mann Elementary School. There, they were welcomed with open arms, and challenged with a fantastic education. #1 son's classroom was furnished with bookshelves galore-- its own library of sorts-- couches, beanbags, and recliners wonderful for reading. His teacher was warm and welcoming, and had never heard of "work room." She didn't believe in "high pressure" writing, and in fact most of his writing was done at home for homework, which was never a burdensome amount. She believed mistakes were okay, and a part of the learning process, not a horror to be signed by parents and sent back in to be documented. And in four short months, she helped him learn to believe in himself and his abilities again. He began to feel smart, to enjoy writing, discovering, learning, branching out his reading interests, and the social growth! By the time we left, he had so many friends, people who thought being smart was cool! He had a separate science teacher, who expected experiments to be written up in lab form-- a hypothesis, procedure, equipment, data, observations, and conclusions, with charts and diagrams. Live animals were used. He was in a book club. He went to school early for chess club, stayed late to study Japanese, and went back on Saturdays to take up fencing. Now THIS was school! He had a great librarian who made using the library something to look forward to, and worked hard to put books into the hands of children! Leaving St. Paul was a sad, sad thing.
However, we returned from St. Paul full of hope-- we now knew that going to school could be a fantastic experience, full of excitement, discovery, encouragement, academic challenge, social fulfillment, and personal achievement. Perhaps 4th grade would be fantastic!
Within 2 weeks of returning home, research into homeschooling had begun in earnest. Formerly a staunch skeptic, I was now open to the possibility. School choice in our area doesn't work very well (many of the very good schools are closed to choice due to overenrollment). Charter schools are often lottery only, and we've entered the lotteries year after year and never won the lottery. Private schools are either incompatible with our religious beliefs or wildly expensive (some of the better ones actually cite $19,000/year tuition! Even with financial aid, that's going to be ridiculous). We've looked at moving, and it is a) expensive initially b)involves higher taxes across the state line and c)expensive over the long haul in terms of a longer commute for my husband, in terms of time, wear and tear, and gasoline for the car. And it offers no guarantees as budget cutbacks continue in every state, particularly for son#2, whose story will be told in an upcoming post.
I began volunteering in the library as soon as we returned home and school had resumed. On one occasion, I stopped in and found a half dozen students, unsupervised, running around chasing each other with pencils. They were the special education class, there for their reading enrichment time. Where is the reading specialist? We don't know. What are you supposed to be doing? Reading something. I settled them down, got them all books, and set them to reading. An hour passed, and the reading specialist popped in and sent them to lunch. These are all children who have reading help specified for them in their IEP's, and this is the extra help they are getting? And where was this person who was supposedly supervising them all that time, let alone actually helping them? I wasn't scheduled to be there-- I had just popped in! On another day, I was volunteering, and someone came by to pick up my son's class to walk them back to class. Her exact words: "WHY do I HEAR talking?? YOUR MOUTHS should BE SHUT unless it is RECESS time. DO NOT open your MOUTHS until RECESS!" It was 11am. Recess is not scheduled until 2pm. I nearly tucked a kid under each arm and herded them all before me out the front door as fast as I could, yelling, "Run, run, run for your lives! I will teach you all!"
I went home, pulled up the state form for registering a homeschool, and filled it out that day.
Coming chapters:
Journey toward schooling at home, part 2
What I learned in the first week of homeschooling.
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