The report that they send home at the middle of the semester.
CHILD 1: Every word was glowing and the report as a whole was a WIN!
CHILD 2: Except for a little work that can be done in one class, the news was so good I nearly passed out.
CHILD 3: Now, I could tell by the way my 13yo approached there was something very wrong with his paper. He was dragging his feet. His head was bowed. I felt a ball of apprehension in my stomach as he drew closer.
“I’m sorry, mom….” he started by apologizing. This wasn’t good.
The grades on his form told me what I already knew about him being brilliant, except for math.
I can’t fault any kid for struggling with math because I’m pretty sure I’m the reason most math teachers in Indiana were on Prozac. Lots of Prozac.
But math has always been my son’s strongest subject. He does equations and calculations for FUN. He is such a math brainiac that I sometimes wonder if I could have given birth to him.
So, instead of my head exploding like it wanted to, I calmly asked, “Is there something you didn’t understand? Would it help if we got you a math tutor?”
“I forgot sgfjtykcfghjnfzgghmdhtiryuoprusghgn….”
“I forgot to put my name on a bunch worksheets.”
My child that completed every worksheet in class and was getting primo grades on tests, lost points because he didn’t think to write his NAME on his papers.
I DID GIVE BIRTH TO THIS CHILD!