I finally met with Dylan’s new teacher. He has been back at school for several months, but two previous meetings had been postponed. I was afraid that another teacher would be there. Every meeting I scheduled with Dylan’s main teacher last year ended up being with his language arts teacher, too. It’s hard to hold your ground when you feel outnumbered.
I entered the classroom unsure, but was happy to see it was just Dylan’s main teacher. She wanted to know about Dylan’s interests, and what helps him in class. She told me she was aware of Dylan’s writing challenges, and that she encouraged him to write whatever he could. She talked about a poem she asked the kids to copy down. Dylan was nervous over the assignment, but she calmed him down. She made a deal: He writes half the poem, and she writes the other half.
She told me that Dylan’s former teacher had warned her that she would have to write everything down for him. The way she described the conversation, the other teacher had dismissed Dylan, his abilities, and his willingness to try. I was happy that his new teacher understood his challenges, and wanted to help him overcome them.
Before I left, I gave her a packet of info — some about Dylan, some about ADHD. Few teachers understand ADHD, so I wanted to prep her. I didn’t want to be pushy, but I wanted to advocate for my son. I felt happy when the meeting was over. I had a Jazzercise class scheduled right after, and I worked out so hard that I was beat the next day. But it felt great. It felt like hope.