Identity Crisis

I thought I knew how to teach math until I became a mom. 

Every strategy, every intervention, didn't help the screaming 6 year old that just wanted to escape to the next room to play with her dolls. She tried every tactic in her arsenal. She cried. She snuggled. She changed the subject. She simply wore me out. 

I spent years in the classroom; countless hours in classes and workshops, reading books and creating lessons. I had passion and expertise. I had two decades of experience working with children who struggle in math. Every measure proved that I was an exemplary educator. 

But none of that mattered as I sat next to our daughter at our kitchen table. Her father sitting nearby reminding her to "get back there and finish your work," every time she tried to squirrel away undetected. There were tears. So many tears. 

She was failing. And I was failing her. 

When she was three, we sang songs. Her favorite was "One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Once I Caught A Fish Alive". We counted the toys during clean up time. "How many blocks do we have to put back in the bin? Let's count them!" We built numbers out of goldfish at snack time. She even discovered her passion for cooking. "The directions say to put this many tablespoons of sugar in the bowl. What number is that? Two! That's right!" 

At four she was in PreK. She loved pretend play, art, and music. But she wasn't like the other kids. She ran around the classroom during circle time. She left the room to see what the noises were in the hallway. She didn't follow the routines like the other kids. Unpacking, sitting down, listening to the teacher, lining up. All these were insurmountable tasks. And the more we tried to help her, the more she refused. 

She had a late birthday. She's just needs more time adjusting. She'll get it. She's smart. Just give her time. 

In kindergarten, it was clear that our daughter was in crisis. Meltdowns that required her removal from the classroom became a daily occurrence. She would jump on tables. She would tear posters off the walls. She threw things at other children. She was becoming unrecognizable and no one knew why. 

She was failing. And I was failing her. 

At five she received diagnoses. ADHD. Dyslexia. Possible math disability. Possible writing disability. We had some answers. And the educator in me was relieved. I knew learning disabilities. I helped kids with learning disabilities every day. Heck, my masters was in special education. 

She would not fail. I would not fail her. 

But it was just the beginning.