He bounced into the room with barely a glance back. Most of the kids knew him from sport or riding his bike with his brothers. He also had been coming to drop off and pick up his brothers every day for the past 4 years too. His teacher was a first year teacher and didn't openly favour him, but she obviously really liked him. Full of confidence, I watched as he ran around, talking to everyone then off I went for my first day alone without him.
The first couple of weeks went smoothly. There were never any issues with fights, or hating the teacher. He was an extremely happy child. As the year went on, he still managed to keep up with the colour in sheets, and other basic prep work. He managed the readers. Each day, a small group would read through a reader together and then they were expected to take the reader home and read it with a parent. Lochie never faltered reading the reader. I thought he was reading well.
At the end of the year, Lochie had managed to pass all assessments and progressed to Grade 1. His teacher was an older lady, with plenty of experience. She didn't laugh when he was cheeky - she told him to settle down. Loc wasn't as pleased with this one, but I was.
After a few months, she asked to see me. She had discovered that although Lochie did a great job of "reading" in the group, he actually had only memorised the book. When she would ask him to point out a word, he had no idea. He memorised every reader in the room and could recite them easily. She also pointed out that he couldn't cut out things from paper. She asked would I mind if she requested that the school get him assessed. I said that was fine.
On the way home from school one day, he said, "Mum, what does twenty four look like?".
"It has a two and then a four". Hm, he though on that for a minute.
"Mum", he said, "is the two the one with the wiggly lines?"
I looked at him. He had no idea what a two or four looked like and he had been to school for a year and a half. Thank goodness they were getting him tested.
The next week, the teacher called me in again. The school had refused to get him tested as they didn't believe he had a problem. She suggested I make an appointment with the Principal and trying to push it. I made the appointment.
I sat in the Principals office. She looked down her nose at me. "Goodness", she said, "you must have been so young when you had the boys".
"Yes," I said, "I had Lochie, my last one, when I was 23".
"Hmm" she said, looking at the papers from what I guessed was his file. "What is it that you want?"
"Well, I was hoping that we could arrange for Lochie to have some testing done. He seems extremely clever verbally, but just can't do anything on paper. He can't read, or write or even recognise numbers. I'm really concerned".
She closed the file. "Well, Tracy, it's not like your other children are Einstein. They are average. Maybe Lochie just isn't bright. I don't think the school should spend the money on testing when I think he maybe just isn't all there".
I turned red. If anyone said something like that to me now I'd bite their heads off, but I was a young mum and felt a little inadequate in front of this professional lady. I thanked her then left.
I rang my Mum in tears. Mum used to be a teacher and couldn't believe the attitude of the Principal. We researched and found a place called the Dyslexia Centre. It was very expensive, but they said they could do a full assessment. At least then I would know what I needed to be doing to help my son.
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