The reading struggles discussion group and our new school

So only 2 other people showed up (besides the other facillitator and myself) to our new discussion group.  People who told me they were thinking about coming didn't (3 of them).

I think it was worth more to one new person than to the other.  Well possibly.  I guess things got sort of taken over by the person with a whole lot of needs. 

I guess sometimes it can be enough to help just one person although if I think about it wasn't my goal to help three and, well,  three showed up (including the person hosting with me) and so there we go,  I reached my goal. 

Three moms know a little more than they did the day before and the seeds are planted to help three children.

So I talked with the Intervention Specialist yesterday on the playground.  I had the sense that she was hiding something,  maybe even quite a few things.  She was not forthcoming or positive about anything.  I mentioned the plan to have Dr. G. a well known highly respected local pediatric neuropsychologist come and talk to anyone in the school who was concerned about their child. 

Again, I know she was hiding something. 

I got that sense I had at our old Catholic school that the teachers and staff actually consider the parents to be the enemy and keeping the enemy in the dark was an important part of dealing with the enemy. Same old same old with Catholic schools I guess.

When I think back on the meeting last week about my son's IEP that the school had with my husband and I (how they had everyone in the room - so familiar, such a huge warning flag) I wish I had taken our child advocate. 

The kindergarten teacher (defensively) dominated the conversation.  They mentioned that the intervention specialist had been pulling him out to work on occupational things (working with clay etc.) which I had never been informed about until then. (Come on, cant you drop me a line?)

Perhaps I'm in a bad place today but I have some bad feelings about our new Catholic school.

For the last week when I pull in the parking lot I feel like getting a tattoo (this is so not like me) and wearing all black (with leather) and playing Return of the Mack as loud as I can get it to go.

Is this an immature way to deal with feelings of oppression?  Perhaps.  I know I know,  grow up Mom. 

Yet,  remember that with my daughter I felt like dyslexia was a blessing because it allowed us to pull her out of the same stifling atmosphere our first Catholic school had.

There is probably a lot going on with me on this since, 1. I'm not Catholic and never will be.  2. I detest being lied to. 3. I went to public school.