I have an amazing first born son.  He is nothing like his sister and brother after him.  He isn’t really like me or his father, either.  He is a brilliant, interesting boy who is rapidly turning into a teenager.  Next year, he will go to high school.  He will likely attend a private high school, and so needs to take the official high school placement exam.  The reality of this has been lurking in the back of my mind since the end of seventh grade.  When I sat down to talk with the assistant principal about it, the reality of it smacked me in the face.  I have a special needs child.

You may wonder how that significant detail slipped my mind. Obsessed with traveling the world, I told you Max was interesting and brilliant.  What I didn’t tell you is Max is severely dyslexic and dysgraphic.  A non reader in the third grade ( that’s not a typo.  Non reader at the end of third grade), school has posed hurdles that would have caused a weaker man to throw in the towel.  Max and I spent years sitting side by side, doing homework together when he couldn’t do it alone.  I read everything to him until the middle of fourth grade, when he started confidently reading and comprehending.  The following years were spent toiling with mountains of homework that challenged the average learner, not to mention a fledgling reader.  In the early weeks of sixth grade I issued a moratorium on week night social events. The beginning of middle school was so baffling and utterly overwhelming, changing classes and using binders, we would spend hours after school each day, laboring into the night to get through the evening’s assignments. 

You’re still wondering how I overlooked this detail, aren’t you?  Things started to turn around for my son in the seventh grade.  Now a voracious reader, able to tackle Steinbeck and Hemingway, Max negotiated the waters of seventh grade without much help from me.  This helped, but what really made me able to literally slip my son’s disability into the recesses of my mind, even temporarily, is the amazing faculty at the school we are blessed to attend.  Max has been there since first grade.  Everyone knows him and likes him.  You see it isn’t just my maternal opinion that the boy is brilliant and interesting.  He is. He prefers adults to children and really enjoys a deep discussion in religion class about geography during the time of the Old Testament.  He is kind and insightful in a way that adults appreciate.  The fact that he moved to the “big kid’s campus” as a brand new reader wasn’t lost on anyone at school, either.  He could barely write, had no left to right orientation and had to be seated in the front row, center aisle for his visual tracking issues. Sounds like a disaster, doesn’t it?  At the time, it was all that I knew.  I teamed up with the Special Services teacher and we went to work putting accommodations into place that enabled Max to if not succeed, muddle through quite nicely.  In the meantime, we worked diligently with our amazing FAST tutors multiple times a week, increasing his reading speed, accuracy and fluency. In fifth grade, he learned to tie his shoes!  I wept for a week.  All those little milestones kept piling up.  Max kept working at home, in tutoring and at school, and he continued to grow and learn.  Fast forward to the end of seventh grade.  I have a strong, independent son who is six inches taller than me and able to handle his school work entirely on his own.  If he comes across something that challenges him, he knows who to go to and how to make it happen.  Why have I been able to tuck away the disability?   

 Max is thriving!

 Now to the smack in the face!  Reality came flashing back when I asked about the high school placement test.  Max will need accommodations to take the test.  He still can’t track well, and doesn’t do scantron sheets. This isn’t a problem at school. Everyone knows it and they handle it.  However, in order to handle it anywhere else, we have to get Max an IEP.  If you aren’t familiar, an IEP is an Individualized Education Program.  It is a legally binding document that is required to receive, gulp, Special Education Services.  In order to receive accommodations on the high school placement test, Max must have an IEP.  I have avoided this document for years.  I didn’t like the idea of a legally binding document labeling my son.  I know who he is, he knows who he is and our school didn’t require it to tell them who he is.  They learned on their own, by teaching him, knowing him and loving him for who he is. The idea of it made me sick.  I was so afraid of it going before him and people judging him, making assumptions about who is he based on the IEP instead of his personality.  He is such a pleasure and for years I was so afraid people would miss him and see only his IEP.

 I have always done whatever was necessary to help Max succeed. And now he needs an IEP in order to succeed on the high school placement exam.  But I’m not afraid of that stupid document anymore.  Max is strong, capable and confident.  He is older now and able to advocate for himself. His abilities eclipse his disabilities.  Anyone who spends a few minutes with him will see how unique and brilliant he is.  And if they choose to see only what the IEP says, that will be their loss.  Not mine and certainly not Max’s.