by Nancy
We have friends who have sweated getting their son into a Manhattan private school in a year in which there were too many boys applying. So, our academic anxiety seemed to pale in comparison. We have a daughter who just started 2nd grade at a new school in a great suburban district. Our anxiety was about her making friends and feeling comfortable, not about academics. All we cared about was that she liked school.
Okay, so maybe we were hoping that at some time during the 2nd grade year she would be evaluated for the gifted program, which didn't start until 3rd grade at her old school. In fact, a conversation had been had with the new principal at enrollment time in which he made it sound like a big bureaucratic process that would take forever and had to start with me writing a letter to him. Since she tends to take a long time to warm up to a new situation, I decided then that December would be a good time to write the letter, if everything was going well then.
So, in September when the teacher offhandedly suggested gifted testing at back-to-school night, I was still focused on, "Who did you eat lunch with? Who did you play with on the playground?" Then came a phone call. My 7-year-old had mediated a disagreement between a group of boys, and she explained the function of chlorophyll to the class.
"She should be tested immediately," said the teacher. "I can't imagine she won't get in." The permission slip came home, and I signed it without giving a second thought to the girl who takes a long time to warm up and my plan to wait until December. Pride took over. I ignored my instincts.
So, when there was another phone call after the first day of testing, I was jolted back to reality. The teacher didn't know how she did, but the test administrator said she didn't elaborate enough on her answers. Day two of testing was puzzles, there would be nothing to elaborate about.
"She's shy," someone said. "Should have waited until December," I said. "Private testing," they said. "It doesn't matter," I told myself. Private testing seemed hypocritical, if of course it really didn't matter.
During the week between testing and results, she seemed not to care about the outcome. "It doesn't matter," I told her. "I know," she said.
In the end, she got the necessary IQ score, despite the short answers. Her reaction was a huge smile and a call to her grandmothers. Now we're waiting on a psychological evaluation before she's officially in the program. "The least of her challenges," my husband said. Let's hope he's right.
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