Second RTI

Last week, on Ian’s birthday, I had my second “RTI” meeting with Ethan’s teacher, the special education coordinator, the occupation therapist for Boulder Valley Schools, and the school social worker. Whoo boy, and if that line-up doesn’t give you an indication as to the gut wrenching joy potential of this meeting, well you just ain’t lived.

(And after sentences like that, is there any doubt as to whom to blame for Ethan’s literacy issues?)

Ethan’s teacher is a sweetheart. She’s one of those ladies who really LOVES teaching and she’s really good at it. Actually, LOVES and GOOD just aren’t the right words to describe her. She genuinely cares about these kids. Bless her. I wish we could clone her. She sat right beside me at the meeting and made sure to smile and joke and generally tried to calm me down.

So Ethan has made significant progress during the last six weeks. The 5 days a week of “small group reading” where he can get one on one attention, the 3 days a week of handwriting group and the twice weekly speech classes seem to be helping. He seems to, finally, get what it means for words to rhyme. In January if you had asked him what rhymed with “fan” you were likely to get a response of “book”. Or, and this was even more common, he would just start crying. His brain just didn’t….get it. Synapses didn’t fire right, connections weren’t made, I don’t know. The child couldn’t rhyme. Now he can. Progress.

But he needs to be here (hold your hand at the level of your forhead) to be at normal reading progress for a child finishing 1st grade. And he’s still here (hold your hand at mid-thigh). There’s this huge gulf. It’s a slightly narrower gulf, but you can only measure that kind of difference with NSA satellites and lots of private funding.

There were bright spots of the intervention meeting. (And yeah my twisted little soul takes some perverse pleasure at these meetings being called “response to intervention”. I can just imagine all of us sitting around in a circle saying “Now Ethan we love you, but you’ve got to lay off the easy readers! You can do it honey! We’ll help you!” Yeah, I need help. No news there.) Oh, bright spots, right. Well Ethan’s sainted teacher took the time to administer the math skills test they give kids at the start of the second grade. In seven categories Ethan was at 2nd grade level in three of them and at 3rd grade or above level in four of them. ABOVE, people. Math, he gets.

He’s also making progress on the friends front. Unfortunately he tried to make friends with the one boy in his class who also has sensory issues- only this child cannot stand to have his personal space invaded. Ethan has never imagined much less comprehended, personal space. So Ethan got right up in the boys face and started talking and making funny noises. The boy responded by covering his face. When he uncovered his face, though, Ethan was right back, chattering and generally being a nuisance, and this boy responded by taking his hand and shoving Ethan… in the face. It’s the 1st graders with Sensory Integration Disorder version of “Back up off me, yo”.

All of this means we have to work all summer, with tutors, with “parent supported learning routines”, school-sponsored summer library programs, and occupational therapy. Ethan cannot afford to sit back and let his brain sleep for the summer. I’ll make sure he has time to run and bike and torture his brother, but he’s not going to get that idyllic care-free summer that, damn it, he’s entitled to.

He’s worked so hard, he’s done so much, and so much has changed, is still changing. He deserves that break. He needs to just be a little boy.

But he’s not just a little boy. He’s Ethan, my Ethan, and I sincerely hope that someday he’ll forgive me for making him spend summer afternoons learning rhyming words and English grammar.

Give me one summer, sweetheart, and I’ll give you the universe in the written word.