I have a child with Dyslexia.
Her disability has other complications tempered by medication, but the Dyslexia is something that can not be medically "fixed." There is nothing in my own life more frustrating than seeing my child struggle with something (as a writer parent), I've taken for granted my entire life. My words have always, since I was very young, flowed smoothly across the paper. My mom likes to tell stories of how I would be sitting at the dining room table, ruler in hand, perfecting my script. How I would search the dictionary for new words to copy. How I won the fifth grade Spelling Bee.
My daughter's accomplishments are so much less than these, but in my parental eyes so much more important. At the end of every school year my husband and I start to have the "discussions." We start to worry about her moving forward. Will she matriculate with the rest of her class? Have the hours of homework every night been enough? Is there more we could have done to help her? My prayers become more urgent as she moves through every day of testing.
She may never be able to spell "their" correctly without checking her word wall. Even then it might still not transfer to paper correctly. Writing is an agonizingly slow process for her, and one I fear she'll never initialize on her own. Every paragraph assignment takes at least an hour to finish, with much coaxing, eye rolling, and threatening. Her writing is still years below her grade level, but her teacher informed us her standardized test results are back.
She tested above average.
Reaching my own goals makes me happy. Editing a chapter, finishing a blog post, recognition from someone I admire. Those are things I can smile and say I've done good for today.
But those small goals for my children. The ones I am on my knees at night for. Those goals that seem impossible to reach because they are out of my control.
She will be moving forward another year with her class.
This image popped up in my motivational Monday this last week. My daughter may not reach every goal I have for her, however attainable they might seem.
I'm still learning it's okay to fall down.
I'm still learning it's not failure if she's tried her best.
Those goals she does accomplish though, the ones she really worked hard for.
Those things seemingly so easy for others.
Those things are great.