Photo by Adelie Freyja Annabel courtesy of flickr
His quiet entrance alerted her to his mood, as did his avoidance of the kitchen where she sat.
“Ben?” No answer.
Roz sighed, and followed him upstairs into his room. His schoolbag was dumped in the corner and he already had his nose glued onto the computer screen, his jaw clenched tight.
“Bad day?”
Ben’s fingers moved the mouse and clicked, slaying all the villains on screen.
“What happened, Ben?”
She walked over and shut the screen. A wail went up. “Mo-o-o-m!”
She made eye contact and spoke softly but firmly. “When you come in, I expect you to say hello and fill me in on your day. Only then, computer.”
Ben muttered an okay and dropped his eyes.
She bit back another sigh and asked again, calmly, “What happened, Ben?”
He kept his head down as he began kicking his leg below the desk. “Got the test back.”
“Let me see it, honey.”
He bit his lip, but turned with slumped shoulders to his book bag. He took out some papers crumpled into a ball and silently handed the wad to his mother, still not meeting her eyes. Roz smoothed out the pages taking in all the red markings and the grade. Ben’s throat worked as he tried to hold back his tears. “I did study, Mom. You know I did!”
“I know, sweetie. And I’m proud of all the effort you put into it. That’s what’s important.”
“Yeah, sure. Tell that to the kids. Tell it to Ms Dragon.”
Her heart constricted at the pain in his voice, but she felt the twitch of a smile at the ‘dragon.’ Roz tried to hide it; she really shouldn’t encourage him, even though the name was apt. She looked closer at the comments in red. ‘Illegible. If I can’t read it, I can’t grade it.’ ‘Too many spelling mistakes.’ ‘Handwriting needs improvement.’ She began to burn. Some of the answers were correct, although misspelled or marked in the wrong places.
All the talks with the school guidance counselor and the teachers, and still Ms Draken refused to accept that Ben had a learning disability. With a little bit of effort, it was possible to make sense of his writing. It was possible to see that the mark was not a true reflection of what Ben knew. With a little bit of willingness, it was possible to give some encouragement rather than tear her boy apart.
Roz called the school to make an appointment to speak with Ms Draken at the first possible opportunity, Friday at ten.
On Friday, Roz prepared herself for the meeting ‘dressed for success’ and armed with the battery of reports that she had already sent to the school. She rehearsed what she would say, so that she would remain calm and not forget anything of importance.
But Ms Draken was not impressed. “Ms Reed, I have been teaching for forty years. Your child needs to put in more effort.”
“Ms Draken, my son puts in more effort than you can imagine. Ben is quite bright. If you tested him orally as the psychologist recommended, you would see for yourself.”
Ms Draken peered at her sharply over her glasses. “Ms Reed, I have thirty-five children in my classroom. I cannot bend over backwards to provide your son with preferential treatment. It would hardly be fair to the rest of the class.”
Roz’s eyes blazed and her cheeks flushed. “Ms Draken,” she spoke in clipped tones. “Giving Ben what he needs to succeed is not providing him with preferential treatment. Ben has a disability, even if it isn’t something apparent just by looking at him.”
“Nonsense. Many of these so-called learning disabilities are just an excuse for laziness.”
Roz recoiled as if the words had the force of a slap. She stood up and gathered her jacket and her bag. “Thank you for your time, Ms Draken. I see I had you pegged wrong. I thought that behind the austerity was a teacher motivated to make, not break children. Now I see I’ve been wasting your time and mine. My next meeting will be with the principal.”
She headed to the door, but when she had her hand on the knob, Roz was struck by a sudden insight. She paused and turned around thoughtfully. “You know, maybe this hasn’t been a complete waste of time after all. You’ve brought home to me that there’s more than one way to be challenged.”
An IEP and a due process hearing would have taken care of THAT lady! I know that’s not the point of the story; just the special education teacher in me talking. I thought your built up to the mother seeing her son’s grade hit the mark. Good story.
Thanks, Michelle. Actually, I probably should have dated the piece, but only thought of that later. A teacher actually told me that when my ADD kids were in the school system. The damage done to them by their schooling took years for some of them to overcome. Others are still dealing with the scars. (I’ve got 5 kids, all diagnosed with various degrees of ADD and learning disabilities. They’re all adults now, and I see that for the next generation, it’s easier…)
Good story Mirel, but unfortunately, Ms. Dragon probably didn’t CARE what the parent said, and that is what is sad. We’ve had similar instances, except in the other direction. My oldest daughter was told by her teacher that ‘without a doubt, our daughter was the best student she had ever, EVER, taught.’ Then, when grades came out and my daughter missed out on a scholarship and a special award because this teacher gave her a B, we inquired how such a thing could happen. Her answer, “I NEVER give an A to anyone, as no one can ever come up to that standard.’ A talk with the principal only provided this answer, “I’m sorry, we know how much it means to your daughter, but we stand behind our teachers.” Distraught and anger doesn’t begin to explain all three of our positions, even when the teacher relented after thinking it over and gave our daughter the first ‘A’ she had ever given, because by then the damage had been done and you couldn’t hide the scar, no matter what.
Great story, my friend, great.
Thanks, Roy. Yes, I’ve had that experience too. In the religious school system that my kids went through, one always came across teachers who had a philosophy that “only God was perfect,” and therefore would not give out a grade of 100 (or A+). As if getting a grade of 100 in math or spelling or anything else automatically made us perfect or godlike in any way! OTOH, there was one intelligent teacher, who would give 99 and then add bonus points on the side for having a mistake free paper. At least kids didn’t end up resentful.
Really enjoyed the story and was not sure at all how it was going to end. I think your last line just clinches it. Thanks for the read!
Thank you Andy for your comment. Glad you enjoyed the read. I’m looking forward to reading more of your short stories, too.