The school is the same. The aide is the same. The kid is the same aside from some minor maturation ten weeks can give a 7 year old.
The teacher is new. The class is much more challenging. The expectations are so much higher they aren't even really on the same continuum.
And yet, the experience is oh, so different.
If you would have listened to the teacher from last year, he should be falling apart, not thriving. She made it clear she thought I was delusional by suggesting he was bright. (I can't tell you the pleasure I get from knowing this must be annoying as hell to her.)
If you would have listened to the teacher from last year, the picture painted of my boy would leave you thinking there was little hope.
I fought back. A lot.
Thankfully, someone who could make decisions had listened. And we were blessed with another amazing teacher.
One who pushes. Expects. And more importantly, one who cares.
It has made all the difference.
Everything has changed.
I've always known that teachers can make or break the experience for a child, but now I know. Living it made me feel it in a way I never had before.
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