The Battle

I try not to go on about my kids. It's not that I'm not proud of them, it just that no one should brag about anything anytime, at least in my opinion. But it is okay to state a fact and that's what I'm doing here. I'm stating a fact that Aaron is good at math. Really good. So I also have to state the fact that for the last couple of years, since first grade actually, I've wanted him to be pushed ahead a year in math.

The first grade teacher said, "We don't normally accelerate first graders, but I'll try to challenge him." And she did. The second grade teacher said, "The school won't bump him yet, but I'll challenge him." And she did. The third grade teacher said, "I'm not sure I can challenge him in the way you want me to, but I'll try." And he did try. But it still wasn't enough.

So I went to the principal, a nice fellow who has ushered 21st century learning techniques into the school and has seemingly proven to be a worthy advocate for the children. "He needs more," I said to the principal. " Much more."

His response? "Then the teacher should provide it. The school district isn't accelerating kids right now, even though we have some that were grandfathered in years before." His face told me that it was the end of the discussion.

But I didn't let the issue go and back and forth I went. I spoke with the teacher and tried to get more challenges in place. Then I went back to the principal in an effort to see some changes implemented in the curriculum. I asked again for acceleration and was denied. At one point, I was even in the classroom, teaching a short math lesson to a group of high learners. Me. A parent with a mission. (And we know how that turned out now, don't we?)

In my mind, though, it still wasn't enough for Aaron. If the kid could perform math functions that the girls were bringing home, then he needed to be somewhere else. By May, I'd had it. So I asked his teacher if I should contact the Gifted Education Coordinator and set up a meeting. The teacher was all for it. And so I did.

I was prepared to wage a serious battle. I had letters of support in hand and my bad-ass attitude in place. But at the end of the meeting, we had a decision: Aaron is to be accelerated by a year in math come the fall. If that proves too easy (and we'll access with the data that comes in), he could be pushed ahead another year. And how long did the meeting last? Five minutes? Five! I kid you not. No more, no less.

I sat there, in front of the coordinator, dumbfounded. I'd wasted time and energy all year, for what? I wanted to shout, "Was the principal lying? Because he said there was to be no accelerating!" But I have manners, and so I extended my hand and thanked her for her time. Plus, I'd gotten what I wanted, hadn't I? So what did I have to complain about?

But I still wonder what the problem was this entire year. For a letter arrived this week that states, "It is the Board's intent that each student be moved forward in a continuous pattern of achievement and growth that is in harmony with his/her own development." And for Aaron, that means acceleration in math. The Board doesn't have a problem. The district doesn't have a problem. Did the principal have a problem? I'll never know. He's moving on to different, possibly greener, pastures as of the fall.