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when you say, "I told you so!"
I'm crazy. There is absolutely no other logical explanation. I'm just crazy.
I have spent the year griping and stressing and nagging and complaining and then what do I learn from it? Nothing. Nothing.at.all.
You know this gifted class that Flash is in? The one that my hair has gone grey over? The one that has put wrinkles around my eyes and pounds on my body? The one that has caused me to YELL, when I'm not really a yeller?
And remember how Flash took the SAT to try to get into the math portion on top of the English that he's already enrolled in?
Well, the SAT scores didn't work out very well this year. Down from last year. And we've been awaiting the "that's great, thanks for trying but no dice" letter from the gifted program that would further confirm that God does completely understand my plight and agrees that Flash has no business being in the math program.
Today I was filling out his registration form for next year. For the English program. There has been much debate at the Eliza Jane household about this enrollment. Do I want Flash in the program? Absolutely. Do I dread Flash being in the program? Absolutely. But in the past month, he has turned a corner and seems to have a much better understanding of time management and good editing. And we had a long talk (or three) about next year and my expectations and Flash still really insisted he wants to be enrolled in the program. And so I was filling out the form and sending away more of my money when I decided to call and ask about these "no dice" letters.
And I had a delightful conversation with the program coordinator, who looked at Flash's information and listened to me ask questions about her suggestions for what to do with a student who didn't quite qualify for the gifted program but has already taken 8th grade math as a 7th grader and how I am at a loss as to what to do with him next year. And then she said the words. The words I really didn't need to hear. The words that then allowed for my horrible stupidity and decision making to come into effect. She said, "If he is comfortable with the English program this year, his scores are certainly high enough that I have no problem at all recommending him for the math program next year."
Say what?
So we talked about that a little bit and she said, "If you want to enroll him in the math, just add that on your registration form and we'll get that taken care of."
And then I did it. Then I really made the dumb move.
I PUT IT ON THE REGISTRATION FORM.
And I mailed it in.
I have no real explanation. Saying that I just couldn't sit idly by while Flash wasted another year of his life being bored by his academics doesn't really explain it. Saying that I know he can handle the material even if he didn't score quite high enough on the SAT doesn't really explain it. Saying that I'm sure after the battles we've fought all year long over the English program he'll certainly try to do better next year doesn't explain it. Saying I can't stand the thought of him surrounded by some of the students at his current school for another day while his brain rots doesn't even explain it.
So I've got nothing. Other than to say I'm crazy and stupid and I'll regret this for many weeks next year.
Or maybe, just maybe, Flash will really get it. And he will not only have conquered time management, but he will also remember how to focus and direct his energies. And maybe I will watch this bright, beautiful child blossom with the opportunity to challenge his brain, and to be surrounded by peers not only as smart as he is, but - get this - smarter! Maybe it will be the right decision.
If not, feel free to just keep emailing me the link to this page next year whenever I complain and remind me that it was all my doing. I'll try to be mature enough to take the blame and admit fault. Even if I'm busy nagging, yelling, and pulling my grey hair out.
I'm crazy. There is absolutely no other logical explanation. I'm just crazy.
I have spent the year griping and stressing and nagging and complaining and then what do I learn from it? Nothing. Nothing.at.all.
You know this gifted class that Flash is in? The one that my hair has gone grey over? The one that has put wrinkles around my eyes and pounds on my body? The one that has caused me to YELL, when I'm not really a yeller?
And remember how Flash took the SAT to try to get into the math portion on top of the English that he's already enrolled in?
Well, the SAT scores didn't work out very well this year. Down from last year. And we've been awaiting the "that's great, thanks for trying but no dice" letter from the gifted program that would further confirm that God does completely understand my plight and agrees that Flash has no business being in the math program.
Today I was filling out his registration form for next year. For the English program. There has been much debate at the Eliza Jane household about this enrollment. Do I want Flash in the program? Absolutely. Do I dread Flash being in the program? Absolutely. But in the past month, he has turned a corner and seems to have a much better understanding of time management and good editing. And we had a long talk (or three) about next year and my expectations and Flash still really insisted he wants to be enrolled in the program. And so I was filling out the form and sending away more of my money when I decided to call and ask about these "no dice" letters.
And I had a delightful conversation with the program coordinator, who looked at Flash's information and listened to me ask questions about her suggestions for what to do with a student who didn't quite qualify for the gifted program but has already taken 8th grade math as a 7th grader and how I am at a loss as to what to do with him next year. And then she said the words. The words I really didn't need to hear. The words that then allowed for my horrible stupidity and decision making to come into effect. She said, "If he is comfortable with the English program this year, his scores are certainly high enough that I have no problem at all recommending him for the math program next year."
Say what?
So we talked about that a little bit and she said, "If you want to enroll him in the math, just add that on your registration form and we'll get that taken care of."
And then I did it. Then I really made the dumb move.
I PUT IT ON THE REGISTRATION FORM.
And I mailed it in.
I have no real explanation. Saying that I just couldn't sit idly by while Flash wasted another year of his life being bored by his academics doesn't really explain it. Saying that I know he can handle the material even if he didn't score quite high enough on the SAT doesn't really explain it. Saying that I'm sure after the battles we've fought all year long over the English program he'll certainly try to do better next year doesn't explain it. Saying I can't stand the thought of him surrounded by some of the students at his current school for another day while his brain rots doesn't even explain it.
So I've got nothing. Other than to say I'm crazy and stupid and I'll regret this for many weeks next year.
Or maybe, just maybe, Flash will really get it. And he will not only have conquered time management, but he will also remember how to focus and direct his energies. And maybe I will watch this bright, beautiful child blossom with the opportunity to challenge his brain, and to be surrounded by peers not only as smart as he is, but - get this - smarter! Maybe it will be the right decision.
If not, feel free to just keep emailing me the link to this page next year whenever I complain and remind me that it was all my doing. I'll try to be mature enough to take the blame and admit fault. Even if I'm busy nagging, yelling, and pulling my grey hair out.
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