The rundown of Jaden’s speech ended and the narrative was passed to the Occupational Therapist. “Jaden is now using a tripod grasp to when delineating…” Standing on the chair so that I could lean on the conference table, clenched my jaw and bit my tongue.
Trace! Don’t say delineate! Just say ‘trace’! For all the fancy buzzwords that my colleagues were throwing around, they might as well be saying “Bounce the graviton particle beam off the main deflector dish”. All of these people were so nervous around an average working mother. They were all so eager to prove how much they knew and what experts they were in their field. But if Mrs Roberts didn’t like something, they’d be pressured to the point of obligation to go along with her opinion.
From her own seat across from me, I could see Mrs Roberts’s eyes start to glaze over as she smiled and nodded. She had almost no idea about what these experts were talking about, but didn’t want to admit what she didn’t know. All of these people were talking, but none of them were really communicating with each other.
Everyone was so afraid to slip up and look stupid in front of each other for fear of personal embarrassment or how it might come back to bite them. One of the things I liked about having a goatee was that it let me smile, ever so slightly, without giving myself away. Socially and psychologically speaking, meetings like these might be the closest thing that any of these Amazon women experienced to being a Little.
Bankhead broke me out of my revery. “Mr Gibson? You’re up.”
I could have rattled off a string of fancy technical terms. Done the whole alphabet soup of educational buzzwords. “Your child is making A.Y.P on his I.E.P. in accordance with I.D.E.A., N.C.L.B., and R.T.T.T. Now if you look at this data chart based on the latest developmental diagnostic survey…”“
I didn’t.
I smiled and stood up in the chair a bit taller. “Okie dokie,” I said. “So about Jaden, Mrs Roberts-”
“You can call me ‘Mom’,” she interrupted. “Everyone else has. It’s alright.” I never, ever called an Amazon “Mom”. Didn’t want them getting any ideas.
I slid a folder across the table. “Jaden’s doing fine,” I said. “Here’s some samples of his school work. He knows his letters, colors, basic shapes, numbers, and animal sounds. He’s even learned some sight words and we’re working on basic arithmetic using hands on manipulatives.” I suppose
In truth, Jaden probably didn’t need an I.E.P. In ten years, maybe five percent of my students had. Technically, my students were all “Developmentally Delayed”, a catchall term meaning that three and four year olds weren’t acting “developed” enough for their parents, but it was still too early to label them with any particular learning disability. Chances are they’d grow out of it, but it was my job to nip it in the bud, so to speak.
That’s what it meant for my class, at least. They somehow weren’t living up to Amazonian standards, as ridiculous as they were. Most of my students just needed time, a tiny bit of attention, stimulation, and adults willing to push back on certain undesirable behaviors. I’d had more than one parent all but admit that they pulled strings because public pre-school was less expensive than daycare. “I think he’s got a good head start for Kindergarten, next year,” I said. “I think he’ll outgrow his D.D. label very soon.”
“He’s even starting to use the potty at home!” Mrs Roberts chimed in. Her eyes unclouded now that she finally felt like she was able to contribute to the conversation regarding her child.
“Oh yeah,” I agreed. “Not counting nap time, he’s very consistent.” I felt, more than heard my colleague’s hold their breath. I was a Little telling an Amazon that her son wasn’t quite potty trained yet. “He’s four,” I said. “He’ll grow out of it. That and there’s no nap time in Kindergarten.”
Mrs Roberts was all smiles. “I know, right? What is up with that, anyways? No naps in Kindergarten?” I gave my best what-can-you-do shrug and smirk and felt the tension leave the air. “Thank you so much for that, Mr Gibson!”
“You’re quite welcome.” Mrs Roberts was what I called a second-year-parent. The majority of my students came to me when they were three and left when they were just about to turn five. Two years.
