The Meeting

By May, I avoided attending morning assembly. Mostly because it seemed as if every time I went, JGs teacher would pull me aside to “update” me on how JG was doing in class. But I got caught off guard one morning as I was escorting my girls to school, and hence the “meeting” was set. The teacher assured me that she only wanted to get together in order to discuss what we should do with JG next year. In all of her umpteen years of teaching, she had never had a child that was so “on the bubble.”

What to do, of course, meant to ultimately decide whether or not to “promote her to first grade or give her another year of kindergarten.”

Which I have to say up front that I was never – and still am not – opposed to the idea of retaining JG. She will be six in July, and was younger than almost everyone in her class. Plus, she hasn’t conformed really well to the American approach to education (the sit down and shut up approach, I mean – although I know that not every school or teacher takes this approach in America, but by in large they do).

On the day of the meeting, I was expecting to meet with the teacher, counselor, and reading specialist all together. Poetroad made sure he could be there too. Thank God.

Side note: Before the meeting, Poetroad and I, under the distinct impression that we would truly “discuss” the situation, made a list of different we thought should be considered. And true to form, I played the devil’s advocate by positing the “what ifs.” What if they say “this” or “this” – what will we say? Ultimately, Poetroad wisely put my mounting anxiety at ease by suggesting, “Look, let’s not make any decision today. Let’s reiterate that we are meeting to discuss the issue and not to decide one way or the other.”

No surprise to anyone but me (and perhaps the counselor…), the meeting began with something akin to “there is no way your daughter could handle first grade, everyone thinks so (with an eye roll), and this is why…”

I was broadsided – although I should have seen it coming. And I resolutely dug my heels into the carpet at that point. No matter how much they tried to “persuade,” I acted as if this was a “discussion.” Poetroad was calm, cool and collected, as always. We went from person to person and grilled them. “What is JG like in your classroom?” “How is JG performing academically for you?” “What is your experience with children that are retained a grade?” “If she repeats kindergarten, will she have the same teacher?”

Oh, I wish you all could have been there to see the response when Poetroad asked that last one. I thought the teacher was going to fall out of her chair; she was struggling for words, and was practically rendered speechless. Not in her wildest dreams would she want to spend another year with my child was what she said with her body, and with her mouth she said, “Well, I don’t know about that.” That was okay with me; I don’t feel any animosity for this woman, but I wouldn’t want JG to spend another year with this teacher either. As I mentioned in my previous post, the teacher really knew how to help my child excel academically and socially – she was a fantastic teacher in that sense. However, the teacher could not overcome the fact that my child (unknowingly) got on her nerves.

Much more was said at the meeting, and the reading specialist – who at first “needed to teach her class in 10 minutes” – ended staying through the duration of the almost one hour meeting. Although it clearly exasperated the teacher, I let everyone know, in no uncertain terms, that the decision was not going to be made that day, the next day, or even two weeks from that day. Poetroad and I needed to thoughtfully consider everything we heard that day, do some research of our own, and then come to a consensus.

The truth of the matter is that Poetroad and I both know that another year of kindergarten wouldn’t hurt our daughter at all. She is petite, young compared to the other students in her grade at this school, and can have a difficult time sitting still. And although she meets the criteria for grade promotion for Texas (as the reading specialist reluctantly admitted, and added, “And if I didn’t know your daughter, I would say that she could handle first grade”), this school district has standards in place that go above and beyond what the Texas Board of Education requires. JG is only an emergent reader. She can count to 100, but gets mixed up in the “teens.” [Side note: my oldest daughter thought that “eleventeen” was a number until she was in the second grade.]

Maybe it’s just me. I clearly have to get over my expectations – not of my daughter’s ability, but, rather, of what public school should do for my child. I do not believe that my daughter is a failure, nor do I think that Poetroad and I have somehow failed her. As a teacher, though, I know that children each learn various concepts at different rates and by different means. I understand that a child ultimately has to conform to school practices (sit and listen, work on worksheets) in order to be successful in the public school system as it is. But I also know my daughter, and she may never conform to status quo.

Neither did Einstein.

I went away from that meeting stunned. It’s taken me over a month to even discuss it with anyone. Of course, all of our friends and family are supportive. The teacher, too, told me on the last day of school that she would support whatever decision we made. Little by little, as I’ve broached the subject with a few mothers from this neighborhood, the response was what I expected, however: oh, poor you and your sub-par daughter. I’m not sure what I think about that.

I have to remind myself that, in the scheme of things, this stuff is petty. We aren't starving, we have a roof over our heads, and clothes on our backs.