Signs

We're back in session, but the road to the first day of the 2012 school year hasn't been easy, if not downright difficult. Not like Prince Harry's-privates-on-the-Internet-stressful, but kinda hard.

The nervousness stemmed from a few places.

What 2nd grade teacher would Noah get this year? Would he or she be... kind and patient AND still be excited about her job... AND understand/have experience with ADHD? Would Noah learn and grow this year under her guidance? Would the school system cooperate and get the darned IEP in place so he could have the help he needs to excel? Our boy is a smart little dude and over the last year and a half, he hasn't felt like it, and that is so very sad. Mama bear's agenda this year is to change that, soon!

After Noah's 12-week session at Brain Balance, we took a little break, and picked up with once-a-week tutoring sessions with a retired teacher from his school system. She had substituted for his class a few times in 1st grade. Not knowing what to expect, and having lackluster experience the past two years, I wasn't anticipating much, to be perfectly honest. Can I just say that Miss V. is absolutely wonderful? Lord, I wish she was still teaching. Her rapport with Noah is fantastic. She gets him to open up, relax, try new things and, it just really blew me away. Miss V. is the one who asked which teacher Noah would have and when we weren't sure she suggested a new teacher coming from another elementary school in the city. By some divine intervention we were able to make that request and were granted our wish: Noah has Mrs. Amazing for 2nd grade.

We met Mrs. Amazing on a steaming hot Thursday evening open house. Never mind that her second-floor classroom has no air, that she had probably already been there for 4 hours setting up in that heat, spoken to almost all 24 of her students and their guardians and there at 5:40 p.m., she was bright and cheery and just plain rolling with it, as I tried to fill her in on Noah's situation, chase a 2 year-old around the classroom, and look like I was a mom who had it all together. My thoughts going in were this: Please please, like your job. Please, please still like children. Please, please have a good attitude and please, PLEASE don't treat me like I am an idiot. Oh, does Mrs. Amazing fit the bill. Yes, she already knew about Noah and what tips did we have? Yes, they filled her in on the testing and she'd be sending in the evaluation soon. Of course, she would happily try everything I suggested and, by the way, there were some other great ideas she would try. And, there were other children in her class with IEP's and she was ready to roll with whatever she needed to do. Can you say that again, please? Um, THANK YOU! Thank You. Thank you. thank YOU. THANK you.

I think a hole opened up in the ceiling of the classroom, to the roof of the elementary school building. Then a fuzzy, washed beam of light shone down over her head, a halo appeared and I saw my dad's smiling face - giving me the thumb's up! He-he. At least that's how I felt and it was a magical moment.

So. Freaking. Cool. I can't describe the feeling when you've been advocating for your child and keep stubbing your toe and tripping over roadblocks and then some amazing person comes along and says, 'Hey, it's going to be fine, here, let me help you.' It feels good by the way.

I think, I know that Noah is going to have a good year. I can just feel it. Mrs. Amazingly-Wonderful and her Wise Owl theme, her welcoming ways, her open-house party gifts for the students, and the way she was not bothered by Rowan drawing all over her instructions on the SmartBoard... (the kid is obsessed with technology... what can I say?) was my tangible sign that things are going to be good this year. Noah is going to feel like he belongs in the classroom, with his classmates, learning new things and enjoying it along the way. Yeah!!! I'm just little bit excited.

The next bit that had been gnawing at me was the fact that our school system cut busing to and from all daycare centers, as well as nixing many local bus stops. Daycare had kindly offered to walk their before and after kids to and from a bus-stop a few blocks down the road and were denied; that bus-stop was cut as well. A whole community of moms and dads and guardians and grandparents took a collective sigh and said, 'really?' Like our lives as working caregivers to our children is not hard/wild/crazy/exhausting enough?

Because of the busing cut-back, the lovely, lovely, wonderful daycare where Row goes every day, where Noah got on and off the bus for the past two years, had to close their before/after program for school-agers, making a painful dent in the revenue for the church. Sad and inconvenient as hell for parents. (I just realized that I used church and h-e- double hockey sticks in the same paragraph - sorry about that.) Now I am doing morning drop-offs at two different locations, in opposite directions. Go, Mommy, go!

Luckily for us, after about a 4-week freak-out period, the school told us that the YMCA would be coming into the elementary schools and doing a before and after program. Deep breath, OK, there was somewhere for my still-little-but-practically-a-big-kid 2nd grader to hang in familiar surroundings until class started and until I picked him up after work.

Um, I have to admit, though, that I was a little nervous. I pictured a big, stinky, noisy gym with dozens of kids of all ages running around and little supervision, and the ability to easily slip into shenanigans and sex talk and DS players with Internet access... need I say more?

But, as they say in daycare, 'you get what you get and you dont' have a fit.' So, Monday was the day.  Noah is officially a second-grader. He was handsome-as-heck in his summer cruise wear slash early school year garb: white polo with surf graphic images and checked shorts. He even let me (barely) do his hair. This means I was permitted to wet it and put a tiny amount of gel, comb to the side and spray it with a tad bit of spray and not an ounce more of prepping. Back away mom, back away.

Our morning cruised along (not at break-neck speed as usual), everyone was up, fed, dressed, teeth gleaming and out the door by 7:15. I'll have you know that this is a world-record! We had a few tiny hiccups, 1.) Waking Noah up so exhausted that he asked me at one point 'just not to talk to him anymore,' and 2.) Rowan figuring out that Noah wasn't staying with him at daycare, followed by the slow motion wave and pouty lip at goodbye. A lil sad, but schwew, not so bad.

This was shaping up to be a Starbuck's morning - (def.): A morning in which Jennifer has ample time to swing by a Starbuck's driv-thru on the way to work and still arrive on time. 

We arrived at Noah's school and there were few cars, but the front door welcoming us, and we got a glimpse of the cooks getting a little air from the side door while they busily made breakfast. I saw Noah's shoulders relax, these two things must have been comforting reminders. You know, who doesn't get that nostalgic feeling with the smell of tater-tot casserole in the morning? Right? No? Just kidding. I believe that is on the menu, though. We pack. OK, moving on! Northeast Ohio Initiative for Healthier School Lunches 2014, right?

Just as we were walking up the sidewalk, a mini-van mom pulled up to drop off her daughter. Noah and I looked at each other, obviously thinking the same thing, 'ok, this is legit.' As we approached the door, Tommy, the nice dad of two who took our tuition payment over the weekend, peeked his head out... Noah recognized him and waved. "Hi guys, we're right in here," Tommy said, and as we got closer to the chatter of elementary students, I saw the sign that made me think that this was all going to be OK. A simple sign with four block-style capital letters, YMCA, colored in crayon. "Hi, Noah! Come on in!" said one of the Y aides, greeting us with a genuine smile. (Mom: impressed; Noah: comfortable). 10 points for the YMCA.

We walked in and backpacks were stacked neatly in the corner, there were about a dozen well-behaved kids coloring pictures. Paige, the youngest of the YMCA aides on duty that morning, was right in there making her own project and enjoying it. OK, good stuff. When someone asked to verify Noah's name and sign him in, a little tan Blondie with pig-tails turned and said with a heck of a lot of sugar in her voice, 'Nooooaaaaah' and smiled. I looked down and him and smiled and he looked like a deer in headlights. (Giggles). When I bent down to hug and kiss him good-bye and give him good-day wishes, I asked if he knew anyone, he silently shook his head. When I said, 'what about the girl', he cracked a little smile. That was a sign that he was going to be just fine. Everything was going to be just fine.

Now, the part about him wanting a Facebook page 'so he can meet hot girls...' damned Justin Beiber.