Although Ella always made steady progress in school, she never caught up. She had an IEP (Individualized Education Plan) and was pulled out of class for extra help with reading and writing. This was a mixed blessing, because it meant she missed out on subjects such as science and art while she was out of the classroom. Also, it often placed her in the company of children with far more serious behavioral problems, which was distracting and upsetting to her.
The pressure picked up even more at the beginning of this school year when she moved into the upper elementary. Her teacher became concerned that Ella was so far behind in math that she might need extra help with that subject as well. The math curriculum moved rapidly from one skill to the next regardless of whether children had attained mastery. Ella was unable to finish the timed tests. Even with extra help from her tutor, she had at least two hours of homework each night, which was hard on her and me both, and she often burst into tears or threw a tantrum before she was finished. "I'm stupid!" she cried. "And I hate school!"
We met three or
four times a year with the school team. I invariably left the conference
room choking back tears because each "progress report" was just a long
recital of the ways Ella was deficient. Each time we met, I asked them:
Since she is consistently a year behind, as well as very small in size,
why not just hold her back a year? Oh, no, they said. That would damage
her self-esteem. We never retain students anymore. As if being
hopelessly behind and getting pulled out of class for special
instruction weren't already damaging her self-esteem. I wished so much
that we'd known enough years ago to have her repeat kindergarten and
give her an extra year to mature, but it was too late for that.
Finally, we realized that it didn't make sense to have her in public school if it meant we had to hire a private tutor just to keep her from falling further behind. We are huge supporters of public education, and I know the school was doing the best it could with their resources, but it just wasn't enough.
I started researching schools and found a private Montessori elementary school 20 minutes from our house. Bess and Ella were in Montessori preschool and day care -- we love Montessori. This school has a learning specialist on staff, and the teachers take extra training in brain development and learning styles. Part of the school's stated mission is to work with different kinds of intelligences and help children appreciate their strengths.
Last November we went to an open house at the school. We were impressed. And they were still taking students for the current school year. I visited the school and observed some classes. The children were in multi-age classrooms, with a three- to four-year range among the students. I love Montessori kids -- they are so thoughtful and courteous. Ella visited for a day and felt welcomed. She enjoyed the self-paced program, freedom to work at different stations during the day, and use of concrete, manipulative learning materials.
We looked at the tuition schedule, took a deep breath, and signed her up. (And then I asked my contract employer for more hours.) After careful consideration, and with the support of the school, we placed her in the lower elementary program, where she would be among students close to her age but still be able to work at a level that's comfortable for her.
The change in school has made a huge difference for Ella and all of us. She is much more less anxious. Her homework takes less than an hour each night. She is making steady progress in reading and math, and her writing has improved remarkably. The curriculum is challenging and content-rich and taught in an engaging way. She came home one day able to tell me the six kingdoms of life from memory. I was so proud to inform her that she now knew something I did not. (Protoctista? What the heck?) She has made lots of lovely new friends who have been taught Montessori-style consideration for others and for the planet. She loves that they have swimming and art and music every week with professional instructors. And it is such a pleasure to attend school conferences and hear about her strengths and achievements rather than listening to a list of ways she doesn't meet standards. She will never do things in a standard way, but for now she is in a place where it's okay to be a square peg because they celebrate children of all kinds.
Many times in the past three years I have sat in Ella's doctor's office and said, "I don't know. I feel like we just haven't found the answer yet." And her doctor, a funny young man who wears Hawaiian shirts to the office, always says, "There may not be a single answer." He likes to describe things in terms of "flavors" -- "She doesn't have full-blown attachment disorder, but there's an attachment flavor to her behavior." Obviously, he is more comfortable with gray areas than I am. But I'm learning. A complex sequence of events made Ella the way she is -- including, we suspect, poor prenatal care, premature birth, traumatic abandonment, institutional neglect, and inadequate nutrition -- and it will take a multipronged approach to help her mitigate her weaknesses and capitalize on her strengths.
Ella is still a quirky kid, but it's easier to
relax and enjoy her
quirks now. She will be my baby for just a little while longer. She is in the 25th percentile for height and 10th percentile for weight -- her best showing ever! She still
plays with dolls and takes a bucket of toys into the bathtub with her
and runs around on all fours pretending to be a dog. Her room is a
jungle of toys and costumes and half-finished projects that
tend to spill out into the hall and family room and kitchen.
Her sisters complain that she is annoying and doesn't act her age, and, to tell the truth, the piles of toys are kind of annoying. But I know just how quickly the next few years are going to pass, and I am going to enjoy my sweet, funny little girl as long as I can. Even if that means laughing at booger jokes and listening to Justin Bieber CDs on the drive to school. Every day. Morning and afternoon.



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