Wednesday, March 14, 2012

I'm Spittin' Mad Right Now

Tonight I went with Hubby to a homeschool information panel at our local library. It was close by and a number of my friends and fellow homeschoolers were there. And I was hoping to, and I did, learn of some other groups and resources that we can utilize in the coming years. All went well until the end when we were able to move around and ask further questions of people on the panel.

Hubby spotted a friend who is an educational consultant. The friend had worked in the public school system helping struggling learners until last year when budget cuts ended his job. So now he is drumming up work to help homeschool students who are struggling.  I have considered working with him. Until tonight.

And I am so upset.

Why? Because he gave me an unbelieving look when I told him of Ms. D's IQ score. He made it sound like she could learn anything if he was able to work with her. When I told him that we have to teach her concretely and might never understand things like algebra, he shook his head like we were so wrong. He had no sympathy, no encouragement, and had a very judgmental attitude towards us. He didn't seem to believe that alcohol kills brain cells. He has no idea of how hard Ms. D and I have worked, and how difficult it is for her to grasp some concepts or remember from day to day. He seemed to have no clue of how FAS affects people emotionally, mentally, and intellectually.

He also asked us if we have prayed for Ms. D. Have we prayed for her? What kind of question is that! Of course we have prayed for her. I don't think I've prayed harder for any of my other kids than how I've prayed for the two youngest.

It has been so frustrating for me to have people minimize the effect of alcohol on fetuses. This interaction tonight just added to my frustration. Would someone tell a parent who has a kid with Down Syndrome that their low IQ score is a misdiagnosis or because the parents didn't pray?

Maybe Hubby is right and it's all a misunderstanding. But the nonverbal communication that the man gave me and some of his comments hit a sore spot for me. A very sore spot. I'm spittin' mad!

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