Because man, the whole thing was just stupid.   And get ready with some coffee and scones, because this is one loooong story.

In my state, some 2nd graders are tested for the gifted program. In some schools, every single child is tested, in others, only ones that have been recommended by teachers.  In my particular district, a test called the Naglieri is used.  The Naglieri is often used in many school districts with a large population of students that speak a second language or are economically disadvantaged, or both.  Essentially, it doesn’t have any words and uses pictures instead.

So the Munchkin was recommended to take the test, but upon doing some research and speaking with my sister, who is a GATE teacher, I found out that some students with verbal giftedness can do badly on the Naglieri.  Because duh, no words.  I asked that very question of the district GATE coordinator at a parent information meeting, and she did indeed admit that some verbally gifted students could be overlooked with that specific test.

Cut to my son receiving a HORRIBLE score on that test. I mean, according to the Naglieri, he wasn’t even performing up to grade level standards.  Which of course was not true.

I wrote a nice and polite email to the GATE coordinator stating that I didn’t think my son’s performance was reflective of his abilities, as we all could tell from his grades that he was obviously performing at or above grade level.

She replies that fine, if I would like, she could have a broader-scale IQ test administered, called the WISC-IV.  This is a two hour test conducted by a trained school psychologist that spans a larger set of skills than the Naglieri, which is mostly focused on logic.

So the Munchkin takes the test, and when he gets in the car afterwards, he tells me his brain is “on fire.”

Which I sort of took to be a good sign.

His test scores come back, and there are four subsets of results dealing with specific areas of skill.  His verbal is fantastic, definitely in the highly gifted range.  He has some good scores in two other subsets, but only in the moderately gifted range.  Then comes a low-ish score in the last subset.

I’m told that oh, too bad.  That low-ish score means my son isn’t good enough to qualify for the GATE program.  OKTHXBAI.

Wait, what?

Now, up until this point, I’ve been pretty patient.  They had dragged out giving me the results, and also said that they wanted to wait for his standardized test scores to come in before they made a judgement on whether he would get into the program.  That’s all fine and dandy, but the test scores weren’t due until about two weeks before school was supposed to start, which they were well aware of.

So all summer long I was biting my nails and wondering what we were going to do with him.  If I like anything, it’s having a plan.  I’m not a big fan of flying by the seat of my pants, especially when it comes to my son’s education.

When I was told that even though my son scored in the advanced band in both Language Arts and Mathematics, and even though he clearly was verbally gifted, that one low subset was enough to keep him out in the cold, I got mad.

And when I get mad, I do a LOT of research.

What I found was that for the WISC-IV, the test makers allowed for the possibility of unusual scores, and in very specific circumstances, dictated that if a situation like my son’s was to occur, there was an entirely different way to score his test.  Basically, there had to be discrepancies between specific subsets, and more than one standard score deviation between the two.  They call this the GAI, or General Ability Index.

Bingo!  I had the answer!  All the district had to do was recalculate the score based on the tables given to them by the makers of the test, and all would be well!

Picture me in the office of the GATE coordinator.  I have already sent her the link to the information I am referring to in an email, and I’m thinking this meeting is just a formality so that she can verify my son’s standardized test scores.

Then picture me with a very red face as she condescendingly tells me (in so many words) that I don’t know what the hell I am talking about and why don’t I just leave all this complicated stuff to people such as herself, who are the professionals.  She had evidently completely ignored my email. I manage to choke out that I am not talking to her about my OPINION about what should be done with his score, but what the actual people who built the test are telling her, the professional, what she should do.

I am given the complete brush-off and sent packing.

I distinctly remember grinning like a complete fool on my way back to the car, because if I didn’t have a maniacal smile on my face, I was going to kill the next person who crossed my path.  That happened to be some other district employee who smiled sunnily at me, not noting the glint in my eye that should have told her to run in the opposite direction.  I also remember telling my husband that I’d never been treated so rudely by someone in my entire life, and that I wouldn’t put the Munchkin in the damned GATE program if they begged me.

I also thought, HOW MANY CHILDREN HAVE THEY DONE THIS TO?  Am I really the first person who has ever noted how the district is supposed to calculate those scores, as opposed to the incorrect way they have been doing it, apparently for YEARS?  I wondered how many kids had been incorrectly placed in programs or denied a place in programs they actually did qualify for because this particular district employs IDIOTIC ASSHOLES.  The GAI was there, it was specific, and they had never even used it. I was stunned, to say the least.

But knowing what I know about people, I was expecting an ugly uphill battle.  I decided then and there that we would place the Munchkin back into his homeschooling program, and the district could go to hell.

About a week later, I get an email.

Oh, by the way Ms. Glinda, we just so happened to recalculate your son’s score on the WISC-IV and it just so happened to turn out that his scores are actually much, much higher than we originally thought.  He is welcome to attend the GATE program (that starts in 3 DAYS) and we look forward to having him in class.

You don’t say.

Screw that noise.

I politely declined, saying that we, as a family, had already decided that he would continue homeschooling, and that I did not want to deviate from that plan at this very late date.

Vindicated, all I can say is that all of that was worth it, especially since now they are calculating the scores correctly, as they should have been doing all along.

And now that I look back on this post, I am proud to say I have written my first horror story.

A good work friend of my husband’s is having his first baby in July.  He and his then-girlfriend were kind enough to send us a gift card when our daughter was born, so of course I am going to get them something.

But what?

I’m torn because I know that as a first-time mom, she will definitely need a bunch of “practical” items, some of them she may or may not even know she needs yet.

I sort of pride myself on being the person who can be counted on to get a useful baby gift, rather than some weird baby book that the person might not even like, or things like thick, wintry socks for a baby born in August.  Trust me, I’ve seen that.

For some reason, this time I keep leaning towards cute.

I love cute things, but I rarely buy them for babies other than my own.

But my head keeps telling me that I’m being selfish, and to get something that can be used many times, rather than a froggy hooded towel.

Persuade me…

A fever is sweeping the Glinda household.

No, really.

I don’t mean that as a euphemism. A fever really is sweeping through my household, cutting a swathe of whining, complaining, and tantrums.

And that’s just my husband.

Ba da BOOM.

Thank you, thank you, I’ll be here all morning.

Last week’s poll regarding your favorite reading material came down heavily on the side of fiction, which 85% of you voted for.  I would have to say that I also love fiction, but if I really stop to think about it, between newspapers and various blogs, I probably actually read more non-fiction on a daily basis.

Here is my burning question of the day:

Today I’ve got a fairly hot Hollywood property, what with being in Thor and Snow White and the Huntsman, to name just a few.

VERSUS 

Screw cancer, seriously.

But this, this brought a smile to my face.  And one of my favorite songs from them, too.  Beware, kids with guns for those that don’t like that sort of thing.

Today I took my 9 and 2.5 year old to a “professional” photographer because I am a horrible mother who hardly ever takes pictures of my children.  Or, at least that is what I am basically told by the grandmas.  Well, maybe not exactly in those terms, but you can feel the disapproval at the lack of photos from a mile away.

I also put professional in quotations because I don’t think the studio we went to employs people who have MFA’s in photography, or whatever.  More like a high school diploma.  At least a GED. So it is definitely a hit-or-miss type of thing and it all depends on who you get.

My 2.5 year old, who 98% of the time shows no fear of anything, freaked the hell out at getting up on the little platform they have the children stand/sit on.  Why, of course she did.  I tried to get her individual photos first because I figured she had the highest burnout potential, but the shrieks of “No, no, no, noooooooooooooooo,” and the requisite dead man’s lift that goes with them enticed me into having her brother go first.

After brother was posed, in rather stupid ways for a 9 year old, I must say, she couldn’t wait to get up there and hog the spotlight.

Then came the challenge of getting both of them to look semi-decent at the same time, which failed rather miserably.  My nine year old was sacrificed.  He looks as if he is going to eat his sister as an appetizer as soon as the pesky camera goes away, but whatever.

My daughter doesn’t like to sit still for more than a few minutes, so kudos to the photographer for actually getting me at least three suitable photos to choose from.

And then I had to pay them over a hundred bucks for the privilege.

And, and, in this day and age of things like computers and printers, the photos won’t be ready until the end of May.  WTF?

I think I might be in the wrong business.

45% of you have faith in the public school system, which isn’t all that great of a percentage, to be honest.   25% state a firm “no” and 29% only sometimes believe in public schools.  I think part of the problem is that public schools are open and available to anyone, and it is often difficult to balance everyone’s needs with such diversity. Whereas in something like a private school, the student population is a bit more homogenous and they have the option to kick anyone out at any time, which is pretty much impossible for a public school.

Today I’m all about reading…

Some quotes from one of my favorite moms, Erma Bombeck…

One thing they never tell you about child raising is that for the rest of your life, at the drop of a hat, you are expected to know your child’s name and how old he or she is.

There’s something wrong with a mother who washes out a measuring cup with soap and water after she’s only measured water in it.

When a child is locked in the bathroom with water running and he says he’s doing nothing but the dog is barking, call 911.

Who in their infinite wisdom decreed that Little League uniforms be white? Certainly not a mother.

Do you know what you call those who use towels and never wash them, eat meals and never do the dishes, sit in rooms they never clean, and are entertained till they drop? If you have just answered, “A house guest,” you’re wrong because I have just described my kids.

It goes without saying that you should never have more children than you have car windows.

My kids always perceived the bathroom as a place where you wait it out until all the groceries are unloaded from the car.

Original source: Rookie

I live in what some would term a hoity-toity area.

Lots of very prim and proper yoga-practicin’ ladies with perfect hair and Bugaboo strollers.  They tend to have roughly the same type of hair style, roughly the same clothes, and roughly the same manerisms.  I don’t think most of them actually come from here, but there’s more of them than me.

Erm, it’s safe to say that I don’t really fit in all that well.  I’m a little too opinionated, a little too heavy, and I’ve never been the cookie-cutter type.

The other day I took my kids to the park nearest our house, and it was surprisingly empty.

Oh sure, there was one other mom (or maybe nanny, because she sure was chipper with that little boy) with a boy a bit younger than my daughter, but that was about it other than some people playing on the basketball courts on the other side.

So when my daughter wanted to climb UP the slide instead of going on top of the play equipment in the traditional manner, I let her.  I figured that since there was no one else on the play structure other than her, it wasn’t a big deal.  If there had been other children on the structure, I probably wouldn’t have allowed it.

Anyhoo, up she went on the slippery slide, with my hand hovering protectively over her back, but not touching it because I want her to do it by herself, if possible.  When she reached the top, she slid back down with a happy screech.

The other little boy saw my daughter do this, and asked his mom/nanny if he could go up the slide as well.

“Oh no, honey,” she said in a voice loud enough for me to hear and dripping with something akin to condescension.  “There are RULES about climbing up the slide.  We don’t do things like that.” And she primly took him to an entirely different section of the playground.

I looked around to see where the rules prohibiting slide climbing were posted.

There weren’t any.

I don’t really think of myself as a rebel.  But apparently I am.

Sigh.