I allowed myself to get really, really mad at myself.
I know what you're going to say and yes, I was THAT mad. I thought I might never speak to myself again.
See, here's the thing about the past two years: I messed up. I messed up badly. I got lulled into thinking my daughter Jane (almost 10) was being, you know, TAUGHT things in school. She brought home perfect report cards. We met with her teachers and they extolled her academic virtues. So, you know, I got all involved with myself and my pain management and I took my eye off of the ball. (Okay, when I start making sports analogies, you KNOW I'm upset.) She's a reader. She's a writer. She's got lots of energy --I thought it was all good.
I kind of missed the fact that she wasn't actually learning anything, especially math-wise.
Until now, anyway. Because, in a response to a bad school situation, we have moved Jane into an academically advanced private school. The transition is going to be tough because she's going to be a bit behind. I have faith in her ability to catch up, but it's going to be hard.
And actually, maybe we're ALL making some strides forward. I mean, I got really mad at myself but instead of wallowing in it and having such wallowing lead to a whole downward spiral where I beat myself up over everything from current shortcomings to things I did wrong in the second grade --I simply got mad, decided that it was unproductive to focus on what happened in the past, got over it, and developed some strategies for moving forward. Our house right now? ALL ABOUT THE MATH, BABY.
And this? This is the first day of school in the Do-Over year.