It's been a while since I've aimed a blog post at my son, but it seems like now is as good a time as any. Plus, this is good news, so I've got to get while the getting's good.
Today my son finished tenth grade. Sure, the school year ended for most kids around here somewhere between two and three months ago (why is there such a spread?!?). But Corey's been doing an independent study program since starting eighth grade. He's done well, too.
I'd had him held back for various reasons in sixth grade. One of the reasons this worked was that he was barely up to my shoulder (I'm 5'7"). Imagine my chagrin when he sprouted about six inches and grew a mustache at the age of 12. No, not just a peach fuzz 'stache; a full-blown, my-grown-friends-are-jealous-and-are-you-sure-Magnum-PI-isn't-his-dad doozy.
One thing Corey has always had on his side (if only he would use his powers for good and not eevilll) is that he's smart. Very smart.
During his seventh grade year he completed seventh and eighth grades. The following year he took a more leisurely approach and completed ninth grade about seven weeks into his tenth grade year.
Surprisingly, we both lived.
Somewhere around the middle of October, he began plugging away on the current curriculum. One of the assignments was a math packet that the teacher explained was the hardest one he'd face. He added (not that Corey was listening) that all of the remaining packets are fairly easy in comparison.
Aside from his other work, that packet took nearly 10 months. It should have been done well within a few weeks. He tried everything, and I do mean everything to get out of doing it.
Don't believe me? I have the chest Xrays, neurological assessments and MRI results to prove that, no, he does not have a heart malady, seizure disorder or any other health impairment along those lines.
Ahem... I said this was good news. Got a bit off topic there. Sorry.
So last week he finally got to the part where it was time to take the test. There were three days of antics surrounding that, and ultimately, he failed. Yesterday he was all set to take it again. Naturally he left the study guide (which has to be submitted to take the test) at home.
I should mention that I was off yesterday, so I did drive it to him... 55 miles each way to make sure he wasn't getting away with anything.
Oh, I'm gonna win this one.
After a brief pep talk that excluded all the other things I was thinking, he went in and passed the freaking test.
Whoop whoop!
Here's where things get a little tricky: Corey wants to go to a traditional high school, but if his units completed don't match up with the school year in progress, he's screwed out of credit for work completed.***
The neighborhood high school starts in a few days. He still had a couple of units to complete in an earth science class or he'd have to take the semester over.
Today he passed both tests.
Tonight he got his first cell phone. He would have loved one, oh, five years ago, but he's never been in need of one.
Tomorrow we're enrolling.
Thursday he starts school. Up here. Fifty miles from my job. Seventy miles from Tom's.
He's a boy with a history of acting goofy and/or obnoxious just to get attention.
His temper can flare pretty quickly, although it generally has been under control lately.
He wants to make friends, but hasn't really mastered that aspect of life. So identifying the good'uns versus the baddies isn't a skill he's acquired.
I'm not afraid.
I'm not afraid.
Okay, I'm scared out of my mind, but I don't think he knows that.
***Oh yeah. Remember that math test he took yesterday? Well, he will be getting the one credit that comes from it, but he will still have to redo that semester. Ask me how much I care? G'head, ask me.
Showing posts with label schoolwork. Show all posts
Showing posts with label schoolwork. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Tough Day
Something must have been in the air today. Corey started off with an attitude and energy that was so bad, neither Madelyn nor Maisy wanted to be near him. Neither did I, but not the same as them, haha. Not sure what his deal was, but by the time we were on the road this morning, he seemed to have settled back down.
He had school today. When it was over, he reported having passed three tests. An hour or so later his teacher called to discuss his lack of progress. Thankfully, Mom was able to take Corey back so he could do some of the things he had claimed to have completed. Between his problems today and the fact that he's grounded indefinitely from the computer for checking out porn... again... and causing problems on our computer... again... I'm not clear why my mom let him play Civilization this afternoon.
Every school I stopped at today had something come up that took longer than expected. One stop was supposed to last about 10 minutes, max. Forty-five minutes later, I finally clawed my way out the door (okay, that's a wee exaggeration... I love that class and would have liked to stay longer, but my schedule was slammed).
The teachers I met with or spoke to on the phone had one drama after another. At one school, I arrived just as one student was being wheeled out of the classroom and into an ambulance. It had taken the school nurse two minutes to locate her pulse because she is over-medicated. Her foster mother stood there claiming it was "not medical, it's behavioral." Yeah, right. A mentally retarded girl is feigning being unconscious with a weak pulse. We all get that the girl is "hell on wheels" without medication, but I still want to know who put this woman in charge of kids?!?
When all was said and done, I went out to see Ken and Nance at the hospital. Another friend, Evie, was also there. I walked in and proceeded to put three masks on my head. One over my nose and mouth and the other two over my ears. I can't always make them laugh, but it worked today.
Nancy has requested that the doctors and nurses continue to give Ken blood products until he is unconscious. That way he will never feel like he gave up or was a quitter. After my shenanigans, I went over to greet Ken. He looked so sad. He was so sad. He knows things are not working. I asked if there was anything I could do for him, expecting that he would ask me to pray. Instead, he shook his head no and said there was nothing anybody could do. I held his hand and told him I loved him and we all just tried to breathe our way through the pain. Ken's concentration on his breathing reminded me of being in labor.
We got through the moment and talked about cars and yards. I held back from saying anything like, "When you come up and see the house... ," but those thoughts were still right there, even though I know he won't.
I'm not sure why there were no tissues in his room, but we all agreed that the toilet paper is soft and absorbent, and thank goodness for that.
Sometimes he pulled one knee up as he lay there. That's how he was when I walked in. I honestly didn't understand that it was his leg at first. I thought maybe he had some sort of device to keep the blankets off his legs. It didn't seem possible that it was his leg.
When their son and his fiancee arrived, I hit the road. The drive to get Corey was uneventful, but between Mom's (where Corey stays) and Dad's (where Mad goes), there had been some sort of pursuit and an entire neighborhood was blocked off. Sometimes it's really good that all of my voice mail messages don't get to me right away. Here's the one my dad left:
"Hi Sis, just wanted to let you know there's a lot of police activity in the area. They're looking for someone from a pursuit. Call me before you come over. All of our doors are locked, but we don't want you having any problems getting out of your car and maybe getting hurt or having your car taken."
Then in true, Mr. I'm-In-Control-of-the-Situation, he added, "But we're fine so don't worry."
Tom just arrived home from what he said was his worst softball game ever. The man never curses... apparently unless it's his worst softball game ever.
So it seems like the best thing to do right now is to shut this computer off, crawl into bed and pull the covers... and possibly the pillow... over my head.
He had school today. When it was over, he reported having passed three tests. An hour or so later his teacher called to discuss his lack of progress. Thankfully, Mom was able to take Corey back so he could do some of the things he had claimed to have completed. Between his problems today and the fact that he's grounded indefinitely from the computer for checking out porn... again... and causing problems on our computer... again... I'm not clear why my mom let him play Civilization this afternoon.
Every school I stopped at today had something come up that took longer than expected. One stop was supposed to last about 10 minutes, max. Forty-five minutes later, I finally clawed my way out the door (okay, that's a wee exaggeration... I love that class and would have liked to stay longer, but my schedule was slammed).
The teachers I met with or spoke to on the phone had one drama after another. At one school, I arrived just as one student was being wheeled out of the classroom and into an ambulance. It had taken the school nurse two minutes to locate her pulse because she is over-medicated. Her foster mother stood there claiming it was "not medical, it's behavioral." Yeah, right. A mentally retarded girl is feigning being unconscious with a weak pulse. We all get that the girl is "hell on wheels" without medication, but I still want to know who put this woman in charge of kids?!?
When all was said and done, I went out to see Ken and Nance at the hospital. Another friend, Evie, was also there. I walked in and proceeded to put three masks on my head. One over my nose and mouth and the other two over my ears. I can't always make them laugh, but it worked today.
Nancy has requested that the doctors and nurses continue to give Ken blood products until he is unconscious. That way he will never feel like he gave up or was a quitter. After my shenanigans, I went over to greet Ken. He looked so sad. He was so sad. He knows things are not working. I asked if there was anything I could do for him, expecting that he would ask me to pray. Instead, he shook his head no and said there was nothing anybody could do. I held his hand and told him I loved him and we all just tried to breathe our way through the pain. Ken's concentration on his breathing reminded me of being in labor.
We got through the moment and talked about cars and yards. I held back from saying anything like, "When you come up and see the house... ," but those thoughts were still right there, even though I know he won't.
I'm not sure why there were no tissues in his room, but we all agreed that the toilet paper is soft and absorbent, and thank goodness for that.
Sometimes he pulled one knee up as he lay there. That's how he was when I walked in. I honestly didn't understand that it was his leg at first. I thought maybe he had some sort of device to keep the blankets off his legs. It didn't seem possible that it was his leg.
When their son and his fiancee arrived, I hit the road. The drive to get Corey was uneventful, but between Mom's (where Corey stays) and Dad's (where Mad goes), there had been some sort of pursuit and an entire neighborhood was blocked off. Sometimes it's really good that all of my voice mail messages don't get to me right away. Here's the one my dad left:
"Hi Sis, just wanted to let you know there's a lot of police activity in the area. They're looking for someone from a pursuit. Call me before you come over. All of our doors are locked, but we don't want you having any problems getting out of your car and maybe getting hurt or having your car taken."
Then in true, Mr. I'm-In-Control-of-the-Situation, he added, "But we're fine so don't worry."
Tom just arrived home from what he said was his worst softball game ever. The man never curses... apparently unless it's his worst softball game ever.
So it seems like the best thing to do right now is to shut this computer off, crawl into bed and pull the covers... and possibly the pillow... over my head.
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