Report Card

So J-Man brought his first report card home from school yesterday. The academic part was as expected...way below where a first grader should be functioning. But he's made some progress in a couple of areas. So that's good, right? Except I feel cruddy that I couldn't get him to make as much progress at home.

He got a GLOWING (if I knew how to make that word flash in neon pink, I would do it) personal review from his teacher. He's a lovely child, tries hard, handles his temper well, blah blah, blah, blah, blah. I should have been overjoyed, right? My son is doing great in school, so I should rejoice and be glad. You know what, I was angry. What kind of a horrible mom am I? I was angry that his teacher thinks he's awesome but I don't. I was angry that he saves all his good stuff for school and falls apart the minute he walks in the door every afternoon. I was angry that one more person doesn't understand what he's really like, so I must be the problem. But I put on my game face and told him that I was pleased with how well he's doing.

Later his therapist helped me work through it. Of course he's doing well at school, it plays to his strengths. He's in a special ed facility, so class sizes are small. He's in a room with 8 students, 1 teacher and a para pro. Not to mention the constantly rotating cast of therapists and specialists that come through. He gets one-on-one attention all day long from a variety of people, allowing him to spread thin his personal relationships. Plus, his activities are rigidly structured. He never has to made a decision about anything or keep himself occupied. Perfect for him. And you know what, I'll bet they never have to stop to throw in a load of laundry, clean up cat barf, or get dinner started.

And then there are differing expectations. I expect him to function as a member of the family and love me like his mother, which he is incapable of doing. His teachers expect him to function like a special ed student, which he does perfectly. Of course he meets their expectations and not mine.

So it all boils down to this: He is comfortable in an institutional environment. He understands the rules to the game and how to fit in. He is not comfortable in a family environment. It is a completely foreign culture to him...like visiting a foreign country where you don't speak the language. So no, I can't give him the orphanage ambiance in my home like they can at school. But you know what, I really don't want to. And I'm OK with that.