Sunday, June 17, 2012

Good news, and maybe good news

Week 1 of Operation Nanny was a success. She's a sweetheart and she keeps him incredibly active -- they're basically living on the playground. She tired him out so much on the first day, in fact, that his OT ended the session early, on account of he was too wiped to do the exercises properly. We're a little in awe, because we can't remember the last time anyone tired him out (or outlasted him, for that matter).

So this does seem to have been the right move. He even still seems excited about kindergarten in the fall.

The bad part is that kiddette has figured out what's going on and appears to be jealous of her brother, because man is she acting up at school. She's pinching people. She's disobedient. She's giving teachers the Look of Death.

I'll explain: All of the women in my family can do the Look of Death (as DH calls it). It is a seethingly baleful glare that says, "Don't mess with me or I will destroy you." It is an especially intimidating look and I have occasionally found it useful. (No, not on DH. I wouldn't, and he's immune.) I expected kiddette to develop the look at some point, it being part of her heritage and all. I don't quite think I was expecting her to develop it at age 2. Umm ... hooray, she's a fast learner?

Admittedly, that look coming from a toddler is actually a little funny.

Anyway, her teachers find the look off-putting. One of them decided to give her a look right back. There was a stare-down. I kind of wish someone had taken video of this. I keep picturing it like a showdown at the OK Corral, with some Ennio Morricone whistle-twang music in the background. Fortunately, perhaps, for all of us, kiddette quit first and looked away.

I just can't wait until that child is 14. Oh, the slammed doors and the stomping feet and the teenage Look of Death, which will not be nearly as cute as the toddler version.

Aside from that, we got the test results back from the Brigance screening the district did a few weeks ago. Nothing incredibly detailed -- just the final score. The letter notes that they assessed for "reporting and printing personal data, gross and visual motor skills, counting, number readiness and uppercase letter identification," as well as checking for "handedness, pencil grasps, hearing and speaking." The categories were Partially Proficient, Proficient and Advanced Proficient. Advanced Proficient was a score of 80 and up for his age group; kiddo got an 85.5.

Well, OK. We knew he was smart. Because even if we hadn't figured that one out for ourselves, every single doctor or therapist he's ever been to has made a point of telling us that. It's nice to see that the testing reflected as much ...

Except that sometimes, per my research, districts will say to parents of an ADHD child, "But your child is smart. He doesn't need any special services." Completely overlooking the fact that ADHD kids tend to be very smart and creative. Their problems lie elsewhere.

Also, no breakdown by individual score means I don't know if he was doing well across the board, or if he was great during some parts of the assessment and entirely blew it on others. The highs and the lows could have averaged out to a good score, hiding the fact that there were any lows. Meaning there could be something he's not good at that he doesn't get help for, because hey, the final score was good, right? No problems here.  (This is also per my research.)

So I will probably call the school and ask if they have the full breakdown, and they will probably think I am crazy for complaining about a good score. C'est la vie.

In closing, I'd like to wish DH a Happy Father's Day, even though I think he's afraid to read this blog, because he's a wonderful husband and daddy and he's willing to do the grilling today when Grandma and Grandpa come up to visit. (His grill; I don't touch it.) I hope he has a lovely day.

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