Sunday Night Journal — Learning Curves

Because my husband and I spent so long in graduate school, there’s a whole swatch of life that we’re experiencing for the first time. Little bits of knowledge that others with years of gainful employment picked up years ago. Like buying furniture.

Rather than harvesting other’s castoffs from the back of apartment buildings, we’re finally in a position to purchase the real furniture. We’ve been shopping around for a bunk bed for the kids. It took us four expeditions to different shops to get a feel for the prices and the quality of the various furniture shops. The ladder costs extra? We finally settled on one bed this weekend going for a solid, but slightly more pricey model. It took many hours while carting around the two kids to figure it all out.

Everything we’re doing now, from scraping wallpaper to buying furniture, involves a steep learning curve. In our late thirties, we’re babes in the woods of middle class life.

One major learning curve that I’ve been surmounting the past couple weeks is getting my son classified for special education, so that he can receive speech therapy from the town.

Not only have I become an expert on speech and learning disorders, aided by the mixed blessing of Internet resources, but I have had to become an expert on school bureaucracy and special education law.

I had to learn how to start the process rolling with the district. I’ve learned how to push the school district to start the testing. I’ve become versed in strategies to get the most for my child and how to prevent the district from avoiding their responsibilities.

I attended a three hour long class on filling out the paperwork and joined a listserv of other moms in the same boat. The other moms have advised me about proper conduct for the upcoming IEP meeting which will determine his services. Do I bring a tape recorder? Do I bring my husband? Should I have my own written report?

I’ve had to absorb gallons of information in a short period of time. A law degree and a medical license in two weeks.

I now know that when Dr. L, the school administrator, says “Sorry, you’re son can only have two sessions with a speech therapist per week,” she’s breaking the law. She can’t put limits on his education until we determine his needs. If she says that again, I’m going to nail her for it.

I now know that education bureaucrat love titles, so I’m making them call Steve and myself “Dr.”

I now know that I have to play up my kid’s problems, so that he’ll get the most from the school district, even though highlighting his deficiencies rather than his strengths goes against every maternal instinct.

So, what am I going to do with all this new found knowledge that has cost us so much time and energy these past few weeks and months? I’m not sure that the bunk bed or wallpaper experience can be applied elsewhere. All that is just part of being in the world. A girl scout badge on the sash of life.

However, this experience with the special eduction circus might come in handy. My academic background is in education politics. Mostly, I’ve focused on state and national politics, but now I have a real understanding of how things work at the local level. Or how they don’t work. This will make a good paper.