What Light through Yonder Window Breaks

That light would be my daughter.

Last evening, she was the “narrator” of her school play—a highly unusual and funny 6^th grade spin on Romeo and Juliet. 

Let me tell you how awesome that is.

As those who read this blog know, my husband and I adopted our daughter from China at the age of 2.  The first few years were troubling and traumatic for her and for us –  she developed this major case of hives that were sheer agony and impossible to control (helpless parents slathering Aveeno lotion all over her body – we weren’t in great shape, either).  She cried constantly because she didn’t know what the hell we were saying at any given moment in time.  She kicked and threw things.  (See Mommy File:  “Attachment Issues").

As the months passed, we became increasingly concerned about our daughter's lack of responsiveness to our questions, her mood swings and impulsivity, so we took her to be tested.  It turned out that she couldn’t hear us, for starters, and might have some developmental challenges.  That’s when things started to go from worrisome to worse.   I won’t go into the details, but let’s just say, we weren’t very encouraged by the professionals with whom we consulted.

School started and we began the yearly process of “Individualized Education Plans,” special education “at home services,” speech and language therapy, a tutor and family counseling.  We ultimately moved from a house we loved (one with not great schools) to the one we’re in today because our neighborhood elementary school had a good reputation (not really deserved, as we discovered) for “mainstreaming” kids with learning differences.  

She grew older and worked harder to learn what seemed so easy for her friends and classmates to “get.”  She struggled, floundered, got angry, called herself “stupid,” was depressed and withdrawn in class, and ultimately felt defeated.  Finally we made the tough decision, on the cusp of retirement, to send her to a highly regarded private school for bright children with learning differences. 

I will write again about our journey at this school, with its devoted and talented team of teachers and therapists – but not tonight.  Instead, I want to celebrate success and not “process.”  My child, who started 5^th grade reading at several grade levels lower -- whose language-based learning differences are complicated by short-term memory challenges – is now reading at grade level and was the narrator of her school play.

Ok, she really wanted to be Juliet:  The star.  Next year, says her over-achieving helicopter Mom.

Proud, proud, proud.