Leah #2
She sardonically snickers. “He needs remindin’? Every child needs remindin’ here and there. Hell, I’m a grown-ass adult and need remindin’.”
“You're right. But Grady… he's needing more prompts than other children his age.”
“No offense, miss, but maybe you're not prompting him correctly.”
Oh boy …
Stick to the facts, Leah.
“Ms. Stone, I asked Grady to draw a picture of his favorite toy.” I show the construction paper, wrinkled and covered with red and blue squiggles. No defined shapes. “He told me that it was a—oh gosh, what was it? An allosaurus? Ornitho … something.”
“Ornitholestes,” she chimes in with a grin. “He loves his dinosaurs.”
I laugh. “That he does. I've learned more about dinosaurs from Grady than I ever thought I would.” My smile softens as I tap the paper. “The challenge is that while he could tell me all about the dinosaur, he couldn't identify the colors he used to draw it.”
“Well, not every child is artistic.”
“I agree. He might not be the next Picasso, but he needs to know what the color blue is. We learn about letters and sounding them out, but Grady isn’t recognizing the letters in his name. He’s unfamiliar with numbers. These are foundational concepts for children his age.”
“So you think he needs, what? Special ed?”
“Our special education department is a great resource for successful learning if he needs that form of support. At this point, I don’t know if that’s what he needs.
Before I refer him for more testing, I’d like to try small changes.
Go over what Grady is like outside of school. What it’s like at home.”
She bristles. “Are you getting CPS involved?”
I shake my head, giving her a kind smile. “I want you and Grady to thrive as a family. So let's talk about what that looks like. Do you read together?”
“Um …” Her cheeks blush. “I-I know I should—I try. I work a lot, but I know I should.”
I offer her a kind grin. “That's why we're having this meeting. We’re figuring out a game plan. Now, does Grady have any favorite go-to books at home?”
She grimaces. “Money—um … it isn’t exactly in the budget for books.”
“I completely understand. Luckily, you don’t have to buy them.
We have a wonderful school library that Grady has access to.
We can even work something out where you come up here and pick out books with him.
There are also two libraries within a ten-mile radius of the school.
They have some pretty neat reading programs and activities—all free.
” I write down everything I'm sharing with her.
“Are you able to read to him twenty minutes at night?”
“That's usually when I'm working. The tips are better during the dinner shift.”
“Oh, of course. That makes sense. So, maybe this can be something he does with his babysitter.”
“Babysitter?"
I pause. “Who watches Grady when you're at work?”
“Oh, he stays with my landlord downstairs with her kiddos. They’re older, but they keep a close eye on him. I don't know if I can ask her to read to him on top of everything else she does for us.”
“Are there any other adults in Grady’s life? Aunts? Uncles? Grandparents?”
“Nope. It’s just me and my little toot.” She sighs. “If his father knew—nevermind.”
I furrow my eyebrows, carefully choosing my words. “Does Grady have a relationship with his father?”
She chuffs. “Uh, no. They’ve never even met. Grady wouldn’t know the asshole from Adam—‘scuse my language.”
“Do you think if he knew the challenges Grady is facing, he’d want to get more involved?”
She shrugs. “Maybe. I don’t know. He’s fairly successful. He’d probably think I'm after his money.”
I collect the scattered worksheets. “For what it’s worth, maybe he should be helping you out financially with Grady.”
She smirks. “It’d be nice, but we don't need him.”
“I understand.” I take out my notepad. “Okay, let’s set some goals. Let's identify at least one other person in Grady's circle that can read to him.”
She nods. “I’ll talk with my landlord.”
I write down her suggestion as I continue.
“We’re going to visit the library later this week to learn how to check out a book.
I’ll ensure some one-on-one time with Grady and help him pick out a book he wants to read.
” I write that down. “Also, I want Grady to practice writing his name.
It doesn't have to be pretty. It can be with chalk on the ground, soap during his bath. Anything. Get creative.”
She nods.
“One last thing: make observations with him. Ask him what he sees, smells, tastes. When you’re driving home, point out the green leaves or the yellow school bus. Have him count the number of red lights. How many wheels are on the car. This will get him thinking and interacting.”
A hopeful grin forms across her face. “Seems easy enough.”
“These small changes can do wonders. Let’s see how he does over the next few weeks.
” I stack Grady’s papers together, placing them back into his folder.
“I am going to talk with our intervention team about what we have talked about and these goals, just so everyone is on the same page. Do you have any questions for me?”
“I don’t think so.” She looks at the clock. “I better get going.”
“Of course—oh! One more thing …” I grab a stack of sticky notes, and quickly scribble my work email address and hand it to her.
She stands. “Thank you for being so kind to me.” She nervously meets my gaze. “I wasn’t sure what it would be like meeting you, but … this is nice. I’m happy Grady is in your class.”
“Me too.”
After I watch her head down the hallway, I close the door, and with heavy breath, I lean against it, gently cradling my lower abdomen.
One more down.