The Heartbreak

I'm struggling with how much to post and how much to keep to myself. In the interest of being honest (and feeling desperate), I'm choosing to share.

Remember parent-teacher conferences? The excitement and sometimes anxiety of having your parents talk to your teacher? Remember the book fairs? They made it all worthwhile! Here's where I have to interject that I was the kid my parents never worried about. My grades were always good. I never had to work too hard to get good grades. I'm not saying this to brag. I'm not trying to say how smart I am, and my husband would definitely use this opportunity to point out how blonde I can be! My point is, school always came easy to me. If I worked (or even sometimes, if I didn't), I had good grades. (Kevin, on the other hand, never tried. He did what he had to do, but that was it.)

Remember the dreams you had for your child? MY child is going to ace through school. He will enjoy reading. The teacher will love MY child, after all, he is the smartest, sweetest, funniest, most handsome student she has ever had! When he finishes high school (after graduating with honors and being all-state in at least 2 sports), he will turn down the offers to go pro. He will just have to, because in this family, we value an education. He will just have to wait to play professional _______(fill in the blank, because he really could play it all!), until after he finishes med school (or perhaps law school) at, um, Harvard or Yale or Columbia or well, maybe even. . .University of Arkansas (Go, Hogs, Go!!).

Ah, if only life went the way we dream. . .Kyler is one full year behind in reading. That is one full year of school that he basically hasn't had. I knew he struggled in reading. He hates to read. He wants to be out playing, running, being wild. At best, he'll read a little, and then, I have to read the rest to him. I guess I've been in a very bad case of denial. When the teacher told me how behind he was (with charts and graphs and standard scores and NCE's and everything), I cried. I actually cried. Y'all, I AM NOT a crier. I am one of the least emotional women I know (at least in public). His teacher was very understanding and even admitted she has been there with her own kids. The teacher he had last year was very young and not the teacher HE needed. (She was very sweet, and I would be mortified if she read this. I do not intend to blame her.)

Now, all those morning of crying/whining about going to school and short temper after school and frustration with his homework makes sense. How could I not have seen this? (I chalked the temper, etc., up to everything else. . .Kevin working away so much, typical for his age, picking it up from someone else, just be ing a "boy" thing. . .) Why didn't we address this sooner? Why didn't someone else bring this to my attention? Why, oh why?

The good news (and there is some). His teacher this year is fully committed to improving his reading ability. I am fully committed to improving his reading ability. Between the two of us, we are going to get Kyler back where he needs to be. My realization, hard as it is to admit, is that Kyler is a beautiful, smart, creative, hyperactive young man, who will never be the top student in his class. My hope is that he is able to enjoy reading and learn what he needs to learn. (After all, the U of A has high standards, and some dreams die hard. . .) We have a long ways to go, and Kevin needs to come a long way to understand what is realistic for Kyler and what is not. (He's mad that he doesn't have straight A's. This, from the husband that made very few A's in his life!) Like I said, desperation and discouragment has pushed me over the edge of the cliff to write this, so please send kind words our way.