Complacency

I haven't been blogging.  There hasn't been a whole lot going on.  Lots of snow, ice, two-hour-delays, snow days and winter induced cabin fever.

But that's not why I haven't blogged.

Sure there have been some cute moments.  There's always cute moments, and photo evidence of said moments.  Yet I have not blogged about those moments.

I've been distracted.

There's a fire burning.  In me.  Some days it ROARS.  Some days it simmers quietly, just under the surface.  It's always present, distracting me.  It mocks me, because I have not addressed what caused the fire.

I'm lost.  I don't know how to deal with this.  I don't know who to turn to help me with this fire.

So I sit, and I process.  I parent, and I process.  I've been processing for almost two months.  It's taken me this long to find my words.

After nearly a two month hiatus from my normal photo-heavy, cutesy, sometimes sarcastic musings about The Egan Children, I give you this blog.

Feel free to skip it.  There are no fun photos.  There are no amusing anecdotes.

Just me.

And my feelings.  My feelings, my words, about what happened to me on January 14th.

I sat around a table with six of Drew's teachers, a special education supervisor, an assistant principal, an autistic support teacher and Regina.  We were quite the motley crew.  I called the meeting to discuss Drew's grades:  specifically his test and quiz scores.

I admit, I walked into that meeting already unhappy.  I had called a similar meeting in October, to address the same concerns.  I was summarily dismissed, and the suggestion that I was wasting their time was thinly veiled.  This time I was not going to let them make me feel that way.  I had valid concerns, and it's my right as a parent to voice those concerns.

When the meeting opened, I let them know that I had noted their dismissive attitude at the previous meeting.  There was an air of "I told you so" to my message.  I pointed out that my concerns on October?  Completely VALID.  I was seeing a trend back then, and I knew where it was going.  They choose not to believe me.

At Drew's junior high, the students are separated (they hate the term 'tracked,' but let's be honest:  that's exactly what it is.) into three levels.  Level three is advanced/college bound.  Level two is basically grade-level.  level one is for kids who need learning support, the curriculum is presented at a slower pace.  The reasons for this 'need' vary.  For Drew it's due to his IEP and his diagnosis.  Some kids are in level one due to low IQ, little to no parental support, poor grades/attendance/behavior in sixth grade etc.  You get the idea.  These kids are not considered to be college bound.  In fact, I don't think the teachers/administration think these kids will amount to anything more than gas station attendants.  (No offense to gas station attendants!)

At the time, Drew was getting a low C in math, science and English/reading.   These are four of his five "core" classes.  All of these classes have two teachers:  a regular education teacher and a special education teacher who provides the learning support.  when I voiced my concern over Drew's C's, I was met with some attitude from the teachers.  The biggest offenders being the math teachers.  They told me I should be pleased, as he was currently three percentage points above the class average.  The science teachers and English/reading teachers basically said the same thing.

I was floored.

"Your class average is a C?!?!"  I asked.

Every last one of them nodded their heads, as if they were proud of that accomplishment.

People, I was speechless.  SPEECHLESS.  For those of you who know me, that is a hard thing to accomplish.  I always, ALWAYS have words.

Not this time.

The math teacher went on to ask me what my expectations of Drew really were.  She felt a C was the best he could do, and I shouldn't expect much more.

Cue Ck being speechless AGAIN.  And this time I was a bit pissed off.

How dare you!  How dare you be happy that your class has a C (or lower) average.  How dare you not care enough to re-teach for even a sliver of mastery.  How dare you stand in front of a group of children and not try your best to present the material to them so they not only understand the basics, but have enough understanding to move on to the next unit.  To move on to the next grade.

Teachers are very sensitive to criticism.  "Our job is hard!  Parents blame us when they should be blaming the students!  Parents blame us when they should look in the mirror to see who's to blame!"  Come on.  I was a teacher.  I don't think the teacher mentality ever completely leaves you, even after a long hiatus.  Never in a million years would I be satisfied with a class average of a C.

That is a failure.  The teacher's failure.

Complacency.  Why put any more energy into teaching the level one students?  They aren't going to amount to much anyway.  They won't be going to college.  Let's give the minimum amount of energy that we can, and push them through.  Ha ha ha!  Now they can be the eighth grade teachers' problem!  The success of the level three students is so much more gratifying, and important.  THAT is the message those six teachers sent me, a parent of a level one student, and it was loud and clear.

Why then, math, science and English/reading teachers, was Drew getting an A in geography?  Those two teachers obviously must care more.  Why was he getting an A in health,  a class with NO learning support?  Why was he getting a B in computer, another class with no learning support?  maybe those four teachers knew he could do it.  Maybe they were more encouraging.  Or it could be that those classes are easier for Drew.   Who knows.  But those four teachers expected more from Drew, and he worked hard to deliver.  Those other six teachers obviously think Drew can't do any better than the C they are aiming to achieve.

Sidebar:  I don't expect all A's from Drew.   But I know he is capable of B's.  We aim for B's.  I know an occasional C may pop up here and there.  In this house, a C is not the ceiling.  A C means we need to work a little harder.  A C means we ask for some help.  A C is an okay start, but let's try to get that B!

I left the meeting in a daze.  My special education supervisor (who is FABULOUS) has known me a long time.  My reaction (the speechlessness!) concerned him.  He pulled me aside in the hall to ask if I was okay.  No.  I am not okay.

I am not okay with teachers who feel like a C is something to be celebrated.  I am not okay with teachers who think my son's education isn't as important as the students who are college bound.  I am not okay with the way they dismissed my concerns.  I am not okay with complacency.

So here I sit, typing away.  This blog took me a long time to write.  It was hard to find my words.  (Ok, one time blogger ate most of the blog, I had to start over and got mad.....for about a week.)  I don't know where to go from here.  I don't know in whose direction I should be waving my fists.

I don't know what to do.

I'm frustrated.

But I won't settle for a C.  My kid is worth more.  He's too important.  He has too much to give this world. 

He's better than a C.