scribblechic

For all the anticipation of this first week of school, I find my heart is tender with appreciation for the experience of watching each of you stretch outside the familiar to grow into new experiences. Your stories fill the quiet of your absence and I catch myself smiling with each remembering; your tales tumbling into one another, almost impossible to distinguish for their complimentary themes.

To my son,

This week you accepted new boundaries in assistance; with the support of a new aide we drafted altered expectations that would allow you more authority over your success. In the evenings, I repositioned my support permitting you space to choose accountability for your time and responsibilities. I could itemize these changes to mark the blueprints of our goals, but I would rather dwell on the footprint of your smiles with excerpts from this first week.

For the past few years you have had the benefit of a separate lunch space with a company of friends, removing you from the noise and social chaos that are hallmarks of school cafeterias. I worried how you might navigate the loss of this safe haven in your day, hoping someone might befriend you and guide the way. Instead, it was you who recognized someone else’s loneliness and extended a hand of friendship.

Over the course of the past week you have shifted your seat over each lunch hour, moving confidently and curiously into each day. Similarly, I have watched you strike up conversations with strangers in unhurried moments before school and execute an amusingly musical leap down the outdoor stairway at dismissal. You have made jokes with teachers while finding amusement in the comedy of your errors.

The days have not been without frustration, but your attitude has been one of determined ability. Where once you proved to others your academic potential, this week has been an acknowledgment of your social strengths. So often well-intentioned educators and friends misread your tendency for individual tasks and awkward social mannerisms to inform a deficit of empathy or a preference for solitude; this week you corrected false assumptions while challenging stereotypes for other children who share your needs.

Like the casual high-five you traded with an old friend at the end of school yesterday, these everyday exercises of extension demonstrate an eagerness to connect and a presence of intention.

To my daughter,

This year you have moved more confidently into the space of academic uncertainty. Where so often you accept classroom challenges as a personal weakness, this year you have begun exercising greater confidence with a willingness to error. In emotional acknowledgments you have outlined an increased awareness of weighted expectations and more challenging goals.

In the midst of these emotional outpourings you referenced a quote your teacher utilized, redefining the value of errors and lending bravery in moments of doubt. Mistakes are proof that you are trying. I do not know the origin of the message, but I am grateful for its motivation; the gentle nudge that has raised your hand and moved you more intentionally and confidently into the act of learning among your peers.

This ownership of effort and error has remapped our homework table, too. You have rejected assistance that masks imperfections, insisting your mistakes are important markers of effort and ability. It was a statement of confidence and ownership that quieted the doubts that had so long informed a struggle.

You wear this new experience of permitted uncertainty with a confidence that is contagious.

To you both,

I could not capture the joys of this week separately. I hope when you find these words you will read one another’s letters with the same eyes, seeing the fullness of our lives in the balance of your differences. I love you both, in equal measure, to the moon and back.

Love, Mom

Tagged: Musings