The One Where I Became "That" Parent

It probably happened the minute I had children.  June 6, 2007, I became "that" parent....the one that asks questions instead of blindly signing...the one that makes sure the homework is done and is right....the one who looks at every paper in the weekly folder and reviews the mistakes.....the one who emails the teacher to stay on the same page....the one who the teachers talk about in the teachers' lounge....

I have spent years (disjointed years, but years nonetheless) in a classroom.  I have seen "THOSE" kids and I have worked with "THOSE" parents.  Don't pretend you don't know what I am talking about.  The kids who have behavior concerns.  The parents that don't care.  The kids that struggle, no matter what you do.  The parents that are in your face every day.  I have seen our public school system shift from a focus on teaching to a focus on testing.  I have seen amazing teachers leave the profession because of the unrealistic demands and expectations that have nothing to go with teaching children.  I have seen class sizes almost double to the point of having 30 kids in a classroom.  Luckily, I understand and respect the hard job that the classroom teachers have.  I mean, they have 22...24...28...kids, all with different needs that have to be met.

This is where it happens.  This is where I become "THAT" parent.  The PITA parent.  You see, I understand that there are 22...24...28 kids in the class.  I understand how the teacher is trying to juggle everybody and everything.  But, I don't care.  I only care about one kid in that class...mine.  And, mine is pretty special.  Mine needs a little extra attention.   I jumped through the hoops to make that happen.  I checked the boxes, got them tested, tried the suggestions, and then signed on the dotted line.  I thought they every teacher is like me.  Every teacher teaches the kids in front of her....meets the needs that arise.

I was wrong.

I spent a year fighting for child #2.  I was seeing behaviors in that kid that I hadn't seen in years.  I fought every.single.day.  I put my foot down.  I refused to sign the paperwork.  I insisted on something new...something different.  I said no.  I fought to help my kid survive the year....survive...not excel.  There came a point where we both just wanted it to be over so we could start over.  I was ready to homeschool.  I mean ready.  I was planning lessons in my head.  I refused to let my child start school until I had a face to face meeting with the teacher.  It happened and I knew everything would be okay.

Then school started.  Child #2 is doing wonderfully!  He is brilliant and happy.  We are calm and happy at home.

Now I have to focus on Child #1.  Fourteen days into the school year and he is struggling academically like I have never seen before. Every day I question the problem.  Child #1 is an amazing kid.  He tells stories and answers questions.  He is sweet and smart and funny.  His grades are not reflecting his intelligence.  So, I started asking why.   Every single note to the teacher yields a response.  She is attentive and on it.  I don't think this is going to be a fight like last year, but it is going to be a conversation.  A constant conversation.

I found myself picking apart the graded assignments.....nitpicking for every point on the page.  It was the difference between a passing grade and a borderline grade.  I hated the feeling of doing it.  I had a note written to the teacher.  I couldn't send it.  I didn't want to be "THAT" parent.  I sent an email instead, asking for a conference soonish.  The teacher agreed.  (No complaints about the teacher.  We are loving it so far!)  So, next week we start the conversation about what he needs and how to give it to him.  I think it is going to be a year-long discussion.  I think we are going to have to change some things and add the dreaded ADHD diagnosis to the IEP.  I am probably going to sit at the table and refuse to medicate.  I might even cry.

But I am not going to back down.  If being "THAT" parent means fighting for your kids and making sure that they have everything they need to be successful, then that's me.  I know the language and I know the game.  My kids aren't going to get lost in the shuffle or fall through the cracks.

I am thankful every single day that my preemie twins are happy and healthy 7 year old boys.  They run and play.  They do not have any physical complications from their prematurity or hospitalization.  Their complications are a little less obvious.  They "look" normal.  They "sound" normal.  Until they are not normal.  Until the littlest thing sends #2 into a fit.  Until a bug snaps #1's attention and he forgets what he was supposed to be doing.  They are different and they are special.  Most importantly...they are mine....and I am going to do whatever I have to do to make sure they are successful.