After Lu's parent-teacher conference with Ms. B., I felt...[insert adjective to describe a combination of disappointment, lack of surprise, pride, amusement, concern. Am sure the Germans have one]. Ms. B. has high standards and she runs a tight ship, both good qualities for any captain of Lucy. She found lots of nice things to say, but I could hear the strain in her compliments. I wanted to tell her, "Save the 'stroke-then-kick' corporate coaching method for the people wearing tennis skirts, because it's a little obvious for the rest of us." I didn't. I listened.
I listened to her talk about how Lu is a gifted reader, the best in the class, but her writing is below where it should be given her reading skills. I listened to her catalog Lu's behavior problems: the constant talking, the attention-seeking spazzing out. I listened to her describe Lu's compassion and sensitivity (Ms. B teared up). I listened as she explained how Lu had scored on a beginning-of-the-year math assessment: in the middle.
In the middle. She had been a math superstar in kindergarten. Maybe she was just riding the Montesorri advantage. But the middle?
To be clear, Jason and I are not geniuses. We are both smarter than our academic achievements would imply, yet we're pretty regular. While I love to imagine that I am an untapped savant (what is my undiscovered gift??), I have enjoyed a good life as a bright person whose special skill is getting to know other people. It ain't bad, but Stanford doesn't give scholarships for Conversant in Current Affairs/Delightful at Parties.
But Lu...we have expected scholarships. Is it possible that her exceptional verbal skills have masked her mediocrity in math? Jason is starting to do math drills with her. I am upping our contribution to the 529.