Wednesday, February 6, 2013
"I wanted you to hear this from me first. KZ did not get into any schools."
This came from the Director of KZ's preschool. Two days later, the school decision letters were to be sent. As I sat there, not surprised, but numb, she continued.
"They just don't feel that KZ is ready for kindergarten."
"What does that even mean?" my husband asked.
"She seemed a bit 'young' in her play date interview."
"She is four. What do they want her to do?" I asked.
"She needs to walk in, raise her hand and say, 'Here I am. What do you want to do first? Here's how I can contribute.'"
Again, I just sat there. I don't know any adult who can just walk into a room full of strangers and do that, let alone a four year old.
"Kids actually do that?" I asked.
"Oh yes, and that is what they are looking for. Now KZ is young. Most of the kids are almost a year older than she is," the Director said.
And that was true. The cutoff date for public school is based on the calendar year. KZ has a May birthday, so she would be right in the middle, age-wise. However, the cutoff date for private school is May 31st. Her May birthday makes her one of the youngest kids in the class. And it showed. Play date after play date, I saw it. Kids sitting there looking as if they could quote Kant. KZ could quote Elmo.
"The schools would like KZ to spend a year or two somewhere else, then have you apply later. They really did love your family," the Director said.
But all of this about her being too 'young' really came down to something they were not saying. KZ had been deaf and was speech delayed. No one wanted to take a chance on her until her speech was closer to perfect. When KZ took her ERBs, the LSATs of private kindergarten in New York City, she scored a ninety-seven out of ninety-nine in non-verbal, and a fifty-three in verbal. Fifty is suppose to be average. I was thrilled to learn that the little deaf girl was "average" verbally after fewer than six months of full hearing. Within minutes of the report coming out, I learned fifty-three was average and acceptable, say in Oklahoma, but not in New York City. Her score needed to be in the nineties. The schools saw this big discrepancy in verbal and non-verbal numbers as a red flag signalling that she may have had a learning disability. As soon as we got the scores, we were advised to get a neuro psych evaluation done. The eval as it was called, would tell if KZ had any issues, and if so, what to do about them.
We were off to meet with the doctor.
She was a lovely woman, whom KZ took to immediately. They worked together for two full days, then the doctor observed KZ in school, met with everyone who ever worked with KZ from speech therapists to past teachers, and had an hour long meeting with my husband and me. When it was done, we were presented with a report. A report that we received a few hours after being told that KZ would not be getting into any schools.
"I'm glad you are doing this now. There are a few issues we can address and correct so that they will not be a problem later. The good thing, there is nothing diagnostically wrong with KZ. Everything is language based and stems from her hearing loss. With the right support, she'll be on track within months," the doctor told us.
"We learned this morning that we did not get any school offers."
"I'm not surprised. The schools don't like to take a chance. They don't like to ruin their stats. Have you heard of the Stephan Gaynor School?" she said.
"Yes, a few friends have sent their children there," I said.
"It's a great place. It's for average to above average intelligence children who have language based issues. It would be perfect for her. I don't think she'll need to go there more than a year or two. It's something to look into."
"What are some of the things we should be doing to help her now?" my
husband asked.
"Well, her right brain skills are off the charts. She is amazing, and I do mean amazing at math. Her piano playing is advanced for her age, and she can do complex puzzles faster than I can give them to her. Don't even give her these types of things any longer. Read to her, talk to her, work with her on spelling. These are the things that will get her scores up," the doctor said.
My husband and I were both engineers. We had spent our careers working with math and science. When KZ was a tiny girl, we started working with math. Letters, please, everyone knew their ABCs, but math was where I heard all the angst. Math was our focus. It was something that came easily to us. Words and talking were not a priority. The one thing I valued most was quiet time. After a long day, I didn't want to hear anything, except the sound of my pencil scratching out a Sudoku puzzle.
Dinner that Wednesday consisted of cupcakes and scotch.
Thursday, February 7, 2013
I spent the day explaining to everyone who called or emailed wishing us good luck, what had happened.
Friday, February 8, 2013
The emails came out. The first one was from Dalton and arrived at 4:20 am in my inbox. I couldn't even open it. I didn't want to start my morning that way. Then Marymount's letter arrived at approximately 8:00 am.
"The admissions committee at Marymount School has completed the challenging task of selecting Kindergarten students for the 2013-2014 school year. In this competitive environment, when the number of qualified applicants
far exceeds the number of available spots, we find ourselves having to wait list students who we would love to see at Marymount School. Such is the case with Kaylia."
WHAT? Did I read that correctly? KZ was wait listed at our first choice school! I began dancing and laughing.
"Mommy, what are you doing?" KZ asked me.
"Jeremy, Jeremy, we were wait listed at Marymount!" I shouted as I ran to his home office to tell him.
"What? Wait listed? Yippee!" my husband said.
"Mommy and Daddy, why are you so happy?" KZ asked.
"Because we love you so much, sweetheart."
We got two more surprises that day. We were also wait listed for Trevor and Hewitt.
My first phone call was to the neuro psych doctor.
"Do you think that KZ can be successful at any of these three schools if we get an offer?" I asked.
I wanted the truth. I wanted above all else for my daughter to be successful and love school. I did not want her to be frustrated and end up hating school altogether because we pushed her too hard.
"Trevor and Hewitt have excellent reading specialists. I'm not familiar with Marymount. But yes, I do think, with the right support, she will be successful at any of these schools if she starts there in Kindergarten next fall."
Now, we wait.
