Tuesday, November 25, 2008

The (not so) Dreaded Call

Today I was just getting up from my desk when the phone rang. The lady announced herself as from the School District. Panic arose. No one from my children's school calls me. I'm the emergency number.

Yet the woman didn't sound concerned. In fact she seemed downright pleased with something. It turns out she is over the testing for the district's "gifted children" program, which Emma tested for recently. She evidently tested very well, as in "nearly as well as the fourth grader I tested after her." Emma's in second grade.

But there was a problem, of the good kind. The next unit in their program begins next week, and she wanted to accelerate some remaining tests to see if Emma could be cleared to join in. She needed my permission to have Emma take another test this afternoon. I had to think on that. Okay, no I didn't.

They also have to have her take an IQ test. I'm almost afraid to find out what she gets on that. The girl is smart--sometimes almost too smart for her own good. For example, last night she was acting up, so I told she would have to go to bed early. It didn't faze her at all. She even told her mother than she's glad, as she gets bored sometimes waiting for her bed time to come.

I'm pretty sure she's figured out somewhere that we judge the effectiveness of our disciplinary choices by the amount of protest we get. If she acts like it's no big deal then it'll take the wind out of our sails and we'll try to find something else. Or give up trying to discipline her.

Except I know she likes going to bed later. A few weeks ago she was practically falling asleep on the couch waiting for bed time, but she absolutely refused to go to bed one minute earlier than she had to.

I think she's also learned from watching her younger brother what NOT to do. I'm pretty sure she's figured out that resistance just makes it worse.

Mostly I think I feel sorry for her younger brother. He's been living in his sister's shadow all his life, and this is not going to help. I'm going to have to work overtime trying to convince him he doesn't have to compete with her or try to be like her. I don't want him to make the same mistakes I made growing up.

Ah, the ironies of life. Even when good things happen there is still cause for worry.

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