Listening to him read aloud, sounding out the words, I am close to bursting with pride. Could this be the same little man who couldn't write his own name; identify any of the letters of the alphabet; or identify items in one-to-one correspondence a mere nine months ago? How the time has flown! How he has grown!
As I listen to him read aloud, stuttering, grimacing, mouth moving, no sound able to come out as he "blocks", I am reminded of how very far we have to go. Will he ever outgrow his expressive language disorder? Will his speech flow smoothly and without effort or will he struggle to get out simple phrases and sentences as everything jams up inside? I'm sure he'll outgrow his developmental motor coordination disorder. Won't he? After all, at nine months he couldn't sit up by himself, crawl, or even use a basic pincher grasp. Now he climbs up in his tree house, kicks a soccer ball around the yard, and zips his own coat. So what if he can't do those tasks as easily as his classmates. He'll get there eventually. Won't he?
As we near the end of the school year, I look back at the worries we had for him starting school. Some of those worries came to fruition. Some did not. We worried about his safety on the playground. On the first day of school, he fell and scraped his face from the tip of his nose to the top of his forehead. We worried that he wouldn't fit in or that the other kids would tease him. Instead, he's invited to birthday parties where his buddies skate over to check on him or show him a new trick or just say hi, even as I have to hold him upright on his roller skates because he can't stand in them without assistance. We worried that he would miss the bus or get on the wrong bus or forget to get off the bus. So far, so good. We worried that entering the school system would change him, that special unique little guy that everyone loves. So far, it hasn't.
His reading skills are amazing. Math skills, so so. His handwriting is atrocious. But better than we expected. He is constantly writing signs and letters, sounding out words, drawing pictures. His interest in school and patience for the routine has blown us away. They tell us he has trouble focusing. We are in awe of how well he has done. They have no idea how his affection for the staff and other kids has translated into genuine effort.
Our little man with his many health and learning issues has almost survived his first year of school in spite of many obstacles and complications. He successfully transitioned from a family day care of six kids to a kindergarten classroom of thirteen or more. Prior to the start of and throughout the school year, he has transitioned through a series of stints with grandparents as I have undergone my different hospital stays, tests, surgeries, and procedures. In addition to his regular class work, he attends occupational therapy, physical therapy, and speech therapy at school. Once a week, he leaves school early to attend occupational therapy at the Janet Weis Children's Hospital. To top it all off, he has survived the transition from his regular kindergarten teacher to a full time substitute after his teacher went on maternity leave. Ironic isn't it, that the year our guy starts kindergarten is the district's first year of full day kindergarten and the entire kindergarten staff are expecting within a month of one another. Through it all, he continues to smile and laugh and make us want to pull out our hair.
We worry about want the future may hold for him. Is that any different than other parents? Don't we all worry about our children and their future happiness and success? If this year is any indication of what he can weather, I think we're going to be just fine. Tired... but fine.
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