[cancer|child] Academic parenting in the time of chemotherapy
Yesterday evening, Mother of the Child and I attended the first class meeting at
the_child‘s high school. She’s a freshman, just begun, in the same Waldorf environment she’s been in since pre-K. It was a good meeting, we spent some time with one of her teachers and got to speak to both old friends and new acquaintances among the class parent body.
the_child is severely dyslexic. She was formally assessed about fourteen months ago, but that was mostly a confirmation of what we’d suspected for a while. She is very intelligent and very determined, but the dyslexia can make even routine academic tasks into real challenges.
I’ve generally been the primary resource for homework help these past few years. And with her text processing issues, she has needed that help, and continues to. At the same time, this is high school, and the beginning of the slow transition to higher education and adult independence. As
the_child herself says to me, “I have to do this myself. It’s not like you’re going off to college with me.” So for developmental reasons, I have to let go.
However, I am starting chemotherapy tomorrow. I won’t finish this treatment course until sometime next April, and won’t be feeling like myself mentally or physically until sometime next summer at the earliest. In other words, I am checking out for the entire school year.
This means I have to let go of my role as homework helper right now. Abruptly. And it’s killing me.
tillyjane (a/k/a my mom) is stepping into the role in a big way. The school is very interested in helping her, providing
the_child with the needed dyslexia accommodations in keeping with Oregon law and Federal law. But she struggles with accepting the help, due to not wanting to be different, and feeling like she is somehow achieving an unfair advantage over her classmates.
The cancer is taking me out of the homework equation. Which is, in the end, probably a good thing.
the_child is absolutely right about her need for independence in this. But it’s very painful to face in the now. I have to let go of so much as this disease continues to rob me of both my present and the future. Letting go of my ability to guide and mentor my daughter is just one more bitter loss.
Tags: Cancer, Child, Family, health
Posted: 5:52 am Thu September 20 2012 |
Comments
« [photos] Your Thursday moment of zen | [links] Link salad heads for the infusion center »
Then guide and mentor her by taking care of yourself and letting her know you love her. In the long run, that will mean the most of all and we all want you to run the race with us.
Wait until college, this is a good step to move beyond overcare.
We just turned “empty nesters” with my son (2nd child) leaving for college. Both kids are now far from CA (Chicago and Atlanta), with infrequent calls.
For both of us parents, the house is suddenly very big and quiet. After 21 years of parenting, this will take a while.
It’s a life change on the scale of marriage, birth, and cancer…
Jay
I’m sure you recognise the complexity of your emotional responses and that you may be displacing some of the ‘not wanting to let go’ into the ’caused by cancer box’. The only person who can evaluate that is you, but I can perhaps provide some perspective on just how powerful the desire not to be different is.
As I’ve mentioned before, I have a severe and progressive lung disease; I cough as if I smoke a couple of packs of cigarettes a day. I was obviously very different to the other school children and I hated it, so I fixed it by starting smoking. And it worked because everyone thought I was coughing because I smoked and I was therefore normal.
It was also an incredibly stupid thing to do, as I am sure your daughter will recognise; I hope that she may learn something from my example of what not to do, in which case my public admission of exceedingly idiotic behaviour will have some benefit…
I’m a teacher and there are a lot of dyslexic kids out there. In my experience, the numbers of dyslexics have exploded in the past ten to fifteen years and it’s only partly due to the fact that we’re getting better at diagnosing them. And many dyslexic kids are still diagnosed fairly late, particularly the bright ones like the Child.
So the Child has plenty of company. And like I’m fond of telling the dyslexics among my students, you can still do anything and become anything, if you’re dyslexic, though it may be harder for you in some respects. I also have a bunch of inspirational examples. I’ll only share one with you, namely my cousin, who was diagnosed with dyslexia in the 1970s, when it was still very rare. Nowadays, he’s politicians and holds two doctorates.
About kids not wanting to accept the help that’s offered, I know all about that, too. I had a student who was severely hearing impaired and yet refused to wear his hearing aid or ask the teachers to use the special microphone he had, because he did not want to stand out among the other students. The important thing is that teachers know what’s going on, so they can try to support your child, even if the child itself doesn’t want any overt help. I generally try to use dyslexic friendly fonts on worksheets and the like. And in the case of my hearing impaired student, I always made sure to stand directly in front of him, when addressing him or asking him a question. I also make sure that the students know they can come to me, if they don’t understand something or need help. Waldorf schools are generally very good at dealing with dyslexia and all sort of other learning disabilities, so I’m sure the Child is in good hands.
As for you not being able to help her with her homework due to chemo, trust me, she knows that you’re there for her anyway.
That should be “a politician” in the paragraph about my cousin.