Sorry about the acronyms. Let me explain:
BSA – Boy Scouts of America.
GSA – Girl Scouts of America.
Hello, imposter syndrome, my old friend. It’s been a while since you came around – I guess I’m overdue for a dose of self-doubt. Nothing personal, I just wish you would go away. And stay there.
It’s been a disappointing few days. First I got my hopes up, then I had them dashed. One right after the other. Now I’m starting a long slog on the interminable project: art curriculum. Multiple people have encouraged me to make this into something I can sell on Teachers Pay Teachers, and I’m trying. But as I knew would happen, I ran smack into the brick wall of copyright protection.
I wrote a while ago about the Engineer’s difficulties with hearing different letter sounds. It’s taken a while, but we’re finally getting part of the ponderous diagnostic system up and running. Next week, he has an appointment to start the process with the school’s Special Education system.
I’m a little conflicted. Our state mandates that all children may receive services if they are determined to be eligible by evaluation. That includes public, private, and homeschooled kids – and homeschooled is specifically spelled out. In reality, most people think of us as freeloaders. We’re opting out of the system except for the bits that we want. Worse, they view us as competition. We’re trying to take vital services that their kids desperately need.
I often say I have a reluctant learner. It’s shorter and easier than saying my child is a defiant-bullheaded-snarky-obstinate-smart-alek-who-refuses-to-sit-down-and-work. I can reasonably expect him to grumble about doing 4-5 math problems. Anything over that and the grumble expands to a roar.
It’s dinnertime. I’ve spent time I didn’t have to cook tonight, because the meat was getting dangerously close to the throw-it-out-before-you-even-open it stage. And I cooked, knowing full well the kids would refuse to eat it. Most of it.
Sure enough, they did. They complained, they muttered, they made nasty little comments. The Destroyer pushed his chair away from the table in disgust and walked away (he refuses to eat beef) and the other two whined because there were tomatoes on the table. Just sitting there, minding their own business in their own little bowl, not threatening the kids’ plates at all.