Two weeks ago I brought L to the local public elementary school for a speech evaluation. He has received Early Intervention, in our home, for speech during the last sixteen months, but that program ends when a child turns three (L's birthday is Sunday). A few months before his third birthday, Early Intervention referred us to the local school system to determine if he qualifies for further help. He has made such tremendous progress in his language skills, that I doubted he would qualify, but my husband and I decided to go through with the evaluation anyway. How I wish we hadn't!
Going to the school that Friday afternoon reminded me of all the reasons why I educate my children at home: bells, smells, noise, professional arrogance, fixed curriculum based on arbitrary levels and "standards", yelling, and a negative attitude towards children.
L and I entered the cheerless building and were instructed by the school secretary to wait on a bench in the hall for our examiner. We waited in the hall for fifteen minutes--we were on time. When the examiner arrived, she introduced herself to me, said hello to L, took him by the hand and lead him down the hall. L protested. He did not know this strange lady, and he had never been inside a building like this before. He wanted his mama! I joined him in the evaluation room, but the examiner was clearly not happy. I promised to be quiet.
The room where L received his evaluation was full of toys. There was a shelf with toys, a table with toys, a desk with toys. He lit up and began exploring. The examiner instructed him to sit at the table. L sat and began playing with the toys on the table. The examiner wanted him to look at pictures in a book. She told him to stop playing with the toys and to look at her pictures. Meanwhile, the gardener turned on a sprinkler outside. The water hit the window rhythmically: splash, splash, splash. L was intrigued. He got up and went to the window. "No, L! Sit at the table and look at these pictures." L sat down. But, the toys were still on the table, and there were blocks. And, a ball in a cup. L got up to see these marvelous things. "No, L! You can't touch those toys. You must sit and look at these pictures with me." L was frustrated. He kicked the table leg. I felt sad for my little boy...who is little enough that he still wears diapers and nurses and sleeps with his mommy and dad.
Throughout the evaluation, another woman who shares the room with the examiner kept coming in and out, opening and closing doors and drawers, and shuffling papers. In the end, L pointed to all of the examiners pictures: "This a boat, this a girl, this a baby--this baby crying, what happened?--this a train," etc. Somewhere a bell rang. "What's that sound?" L asked. "That's the bell. We're all done, L", said the examiner. It was the first time she smiled since she met us.
Today I received the examiner's report. Next Wednesday we will have an opportunity to meet with the special education department and discuss the results of L's evaluation. Just as I thought, L does not qualify for services. However, what I had not expected was this:
"Description of Performance:
L would not separate from his mother and had difficulty sitting at the table to attend to the testing. He was very active, moved around the room, kicked the table, and grabbed at toys and materials within reach. At other times, L responded "no" when asked to participate. An informal spontaneous speech sample, taken during the testing period, indicated that L's voice and fluency were appropriate. This test was very difficult to administer due to L's attention and activity level. However, even though an official ceiling was not reached, standard scores were attained based on what he was able to complete....."
What? So It had nothing to do with the examiner's own incompetence, such as failing to take the time to establish rapport with her test subject, or to communicate a feeling of comfort and safety, or of not preparing the room adequately and eliminating the many distractions??? The examiner made L sound hyper and inattentive, when he was merely curious and inquisitive. He did not "grab" at toys, he played with them nicely. He was not "very active", he just could not sit at the table for forty-five minutes straight and look at pictures when there were real objects to be played with right on the table in front of him!
This is what I hate about public education: it is prone to mis-characterizations and labels. If L goes to school, this report is now part of his record.
There is much I wish to say at the meeting next Wednesday.