Crawling Under, Rather Than Leaping Over, the Bar

I couldn't help wondering, yesterday, as I sat with my three kids in box seats at Carnegie Hall, whether the people who teach my son could even imagine that he could sit through a two hour concert of classical and contemporary music with poise and grace. I sometimes--often this year--think their expectations are too low, that if Noah sits quietly, draws nice pictures, and enunciates well, they've done their job. Not even close, in my book. I took this child to Carnegie Hall, then we stopped into MOMA for a brief visit (Noah's second in about two months), and then we headed to Ruby Foo's, which didn't have the egg drop soup Noah'd been craving for hours. That can be a huge issue for Noah, not getting what he wants when he wants it, but he managed, and we had a really nice meal.

So this morning, as I sat in a team meeting and learned that Noah drew a windmill, and that while he can sign everything by spelling it--but seems not to have learned a single actual word in the six months since he's taken sign language after school--I didn't feel the least bit grateful. I smiled and made nice, but wanted to stand on the table and scream: DO YOU KNOW WHAT MY CHILD CAN DO?!?! DO YOU KNOW WHAT IT MEANS TO RAISE THE BAR HIGH ENOUGH THAT HE HAS TO TAKE A RUNNING LEAP TO GET OVER IT??!?! HAVE YOU EVEN TRIED TO MOVE THE BAR TO A PLACE HE MIGHT NOT BE ABLE TO GET TO?

I don't discount the progress Noah's made, but as I recounted to one of our special ed. gurus in my town, my waking nightmare is thinking that because Noah doesn't throw chairs, has a very low IQ, and is a smiling and compliant child, no one's too exercised about pushing the envelope with him. I pray my nightmare isn't the reality, but sometimes I can't help wondering...