In Which All I Want for Christmas Is Diabetes Technology That Works Consistently

 It's almost Christmas, and my family is now at my parents' house in Michigan. It's nice to be back, after skipping last year due to Covid concerns. Of course, the pandemic is far from over, but at least everyone here has been vaccinated. However, I'm not going to subject you to a rant detailing my feelings about how this pandemic has been massively mismanaged, as much as I might like to. 

This year Kittygirl has take on more and more of her own diabetes management. Overall, she's done really well. We still handle nearly everything when we're with her, but she's in charge at school and when she's with friends, with support via text or phone from us when necessary. The only times things have gone really wrong have been when the technology has failed in some way.

Two Christmases ago I wrote that all I wanted for Christmas was a closed loop system. Kittygirl's doctor approved that about six months later. It's not perfect, but it really is helpful. We learned just how helpful this fall when Kittygirl's Dexcom sensor failed while she was at school. I told her to just check her blood sugar with her meter at lunch and we'd put on a new one after school. By the time school was out, her blood sugar was in the 300's. I'm still not sure what happened to drive it up, but if the system had been working her pump would have increased her insulin and it wouldn't have gone nearly so high.

If that was just an isolated incident it wouldn't seem so bad, but the fact is the sensors fail before the 10 day mark pretty regularly. The good news is the company has a nice replacement policy and will send you a brand new sensor if you report it. The bad news is we have to report it at least once a month. This means the pump doesn't get data from the sensor while the new one is warming up. Which isn't horrible if we can plan for it, but is super annoying if, say, the sensor has failed overnight and insulin dosing for breakfast doesn't work well.

Yesterday we experienced an example of what many people agree is the weak link in any closed loop system, the pump inset. That is, the little tiny part of the tubing that goes into the body and is replaced every three days. All the insulin the world won't bring down blood sugar if the inset fails. I don't know how it happened, but yesterday we noticed blood in the tubing when we changed the pump cartridge. We weren't due to change the site yet, and blood in the tubing has never happened before, so we just looked on it as a curiosity.

The sensor had been spotty all day, and we finally decided to stop it and put on a new one. At the time, the last point recorded was 208. Which is out of range, but not super, super high. We gave a correction with the pump and thought nothing of it. After a sensor is put on, there's a two hour warmup period during which there's not data. We sometimes check with a meter one hour in, but not always, and yesterday we didn't check. We regretted that when the first data point when the sensor came back was HIGH, which means over 400. On the meter, it was 447. We realized pretty quickly that it must be the site. We changed it, and Kittygirl's blood sugar came down overnight.

It wasn't the end of the world, but it was super annoying. There are systems being tested that will control insulin delivery without needing any input from the wearer. That sounds like a great idea and I'm sure it will be great most of the time, but it will still have the same problems the currently systems have. It will only be able to do its job when all of the components are doing their jobs, and those components fail way too often. I'm grateful that diabetes technology is constantly evolving and improving. It really does make the lives of diabetics easier.  What we really need is the next advance in biological treatment.

Just for fun, here's a picture of a gingerbread birdhouse that Kittygirl made with her aunt yesterday.

In Which My Luck Didn't Hold Out, But It's Okay

Well, the first quarter of the school year is over and it's almost Halloween. It simultaneously feels like yesterday that I wrote my last post in August and a year ago. I was looking forward to Squirrelboy and Kittygirl both returning to in-person school, but also terrified about potential Covid exposure, especially for Kittygirl.

Overall, they've both enjoyed school and it has gone well. Squirrelboy is taking two dual credit classes this semester. This means, in theory, that these are college level classes and he's earning both college and high school credit for them. One class is taught by a teacher at his school who is certified to teach college level classes using curriculum from the University of Kentucky. That class has been great. His dual credit Math class has been underwhelming because it's a self paced video class. The content is college level, but the actual teaching certainly isn't. However, next semester he'll start taking classes two days a week on an actual community college campus, so he's excited about that.

I'm very proud of how hard Squirrelboy works and how well he's doing in school. Ten and a half years ago his kindergarten teacher told us she thought he should be retained. We refused that and instead got him the help he needed to learn to read. Now he's getting excellent grades in dual credit classes. I kind of want to look up his old kindergarten teacher and send her an email, but my conscience has won out and I've decided that would be petty.

Despite the fact that he probably sees at least 60 different people every days, Squirrelboy has not yet been exposed to Covid at school. With the Delta variant surge finally going down, hopefully that will remain true. Because he's fully vaccinated, the school policy is that he would not need to quarantine, but we'd still get him tested.

Kittygirl is also loving school. Her fifth grade teachers are great and she's learning a lot and really enjoying being back with all of her friends instead of just one friend. She has joined the Battle of the Books Team (which makes me extremely proud because I did that back in the 1980's) and a club called Team Greenpower, which will build some kind of green powered car and race it with other teams near the end of the school year.

Unfortunately, Kittygirl, the one member of our family who can't be vaccinated and the one with a chronic illness, has been exposed to Covid at school. Not just once, but twice. Both times we had her tested even though all that's required is ten days of isolation unless the child has symptoms. The second time, she tested positive.

Thankfully, she only ever had one symptom and only for one day. There's a niggling fear at the back of my mind that the virus had some kind of long term effect we won't see for years, but I breathed a sigh of relief when she was cleared to return to the world with no apparent ill effects. Mostly she spent the time complaining that remote school was boring and she wanted to be allowed to leave the house. Especially since she was about to finish her ten days of isolation after her class exposure when we got the positive result, it felt onerous to add even more days of isolation.

The instruction she received the two times her class had to quarantine was great. Her teachers taught them over zoom and they followed the same schedule they would have followed in the classroom. When Kittygirl had to isolate without her class, however, the instruction was pretty pathetic. She just had google classroom assignments to do. Her teachers were supposedly checking email regularly to answer questions, but she went days without getting answers about some assignments.

I don't really blame the teachers for this. The fact is, teachers are stretched to their breaking points. This seemingly neverending pandemic has called on them to do more and more with less and less. Teach remotely. Teach in person with masks. Enforce mask wearing. Don't enforce mask wearing even though we know it's effective. And on and on. I do, however, wish the government had invested more in schools from the beginning. If every classroom were equipped with mics and cameras, students who had to isolate could participate via zoom. But apparently no one who has the resources to do it has thought about that. Or they decided it wasn't necessary who knows.

Early in the pandemic I was relatively chipper. I figured this couldn't last forever and we just needed to make the best of it. However, as it drags on, I find myself getting weary. I'm incredibly frustrated, sad, and even angry that so many people in our country who could be vaccinated have chosen not to be. I'm not talking about people who are "anti-vaxxers" in general. I'm talking about people who are generally accepting of vaccines but are suspicious of this particular vaccine, despite all the evidence being put forth that it's safe and effective.

It breaks my heart that so many people are dying or being permanently disabled by a pandemic that could have been tamed by now. An old friend, who was Squirrelboy's godfather, lost a month long battle with Covid earlier this fall. A high school student in our district died a few weeks ago. Sometimes it just feels like too much. I'm incredibly sick of telling my kids. "No, you can't do that thing." Or "Yes, you can do that but you have to wear a mask." Pandemic parenting is even more challenging than regular parenting.

All I can do, however, is to keep doing what I know is right. Keep masking in public indoor spaces. Get Kittygirl vaccinated as soon as it's approved for her age group. Keep saying no to some things I really want to say yes to. And keep praying that this plague will not actually be endless and that even those who make choices I disagree with won't have to pay the ultimate price.

And to end this on a lighter note, I recently got a pumpkin cat house for our kitties. Here's Shadow being the perfect Halloween cat. Happy Halloween!

In Which I Am Simultaneously Excited and Terrified

 Today is the first day of school for my kids. Kittygirl is back in the building for the first time since March 13 2020. Squirrelboy returned in person for the last quarter of last school year, but he's excited to be back and to be starting dual credit classes this semester. When school was ending last year, infection rates for going steadily down and vaccination rates were going steadily up. I had a lot of confidence that, though Covid wouldn't be a thing of the past by the fall, it would only be a minor concern. I even dared hope that masks in school wouldn't be necessary, or at least not for Squirrelboy since all high school students are old enough to be vaccinated.

However, that was not to be. At the same time mask mandates and other emergency orders were lifted, vaccination rates slowed down and case rates began to rise. Here in Kentucky, our case rates are now as high as they were back in January. Squirrelboy, Mr. Engineer, and I were all fully vaccinated by the end of April, but we continued to wear masks in public indoor environments to protect Kittygirl. Most people didn't, and, unsurprisingly, we now have yet another surge in the U.S. I'll breath a bit easier once a vaccine is approved for Kittygirl's age group, hopefully by October at last report. In the meantime, we've sent them back to school with masks and extra distancing and sanitizing in place and we hope and pray that that will be enough to protect them and all the other people in our schools. The fact, for the large majority of kids, in person learning is phenomenally better than virtual learning, and I'm glad Kittygirl is able to start her last year of elementary school in person. I just hope the calculated risk that most schools are taking by offering only in person learning with mitigation strategies pans out.

Speaking of calculated risks, I probably owe readers an update related to my last post. Even though it looked like a spike was beginning by the time Friends for Life Orlando rolled around the second week of July, Kittygirl and I headed to the Coronado Spring resort. We had an amazing time, both at the conference and at the parks. It was especially wonderful to reunite with Kittygirl's diabestie and her family, whom we met at our first conference in 2018. I was a bit nervous at the parks because, despite an official rule that unvaccinated guests should wear masks inside, cast members were not enforcing it, and there were plenty of unmasked kids under twelve indoors. Kittygirl and I wore our masks anytime we were inside or in crowded areas and we stayed safe.

We finished out the summer with a family trip to Rocky Mountain National Park in Colorado. This felt pretty safe because we spent the large majority of our time outside when not in our rented cabin. Highlights including horseback riding, rafting, and multiple moose sightings.

As we move into yet another fall of this pandemic, I'm feeling tired. Not to disparage what people without kids have gone through, but I think this pandemic may be extra tiring for parents. Mr. Engineer and I have spent the past 17 months figuring out how to balance our children's physical health with their mental health. In the very early stages, when little was known about Covid 19, vaccination was a distant dream, and no treatments were available, that meant staying at home basically all the time. As it became clear that masks helped mitigate the spread of the virus, going out occasionally with masks became an option. As the pandemic put more of a strain on our kids' mental health we began to carefully open up our circle. We opened it up even more this summer, while never entirely going back to normal. 

Now that case levels are on the rise again, we have to go back to the drawing board when it comes to deciding how to balance our kids' needs. They're back in school in person because there was no other good choice. Our school did continue to offer a fully virtual academy, but since both kids are in magnet programs that was not a good solution for them. We burned out on virtual church this spring and started attending a church that was worshipping outside. When that church moved back inside in July, we went back to the church we're members of. However, as case numbers have continued to rise and many churches have started requiring masks, our church has not yet made the decision to do that. Looking at calculated risks, there is no reason to keep attending that church when there are options to worship in person at a church that requires masks. That makes our kids mad because they love our church. I'm sure there are others at our church who won't understand our decision because our kids are back in school so we're obviously not isolating. 

However, the fact that our kids are in school in person is a large part of the reason it doesn't make sense to attend worship in person at a church that's not requiring masks. If Kittygirl didn't have diabetes our decision would likely be the same, but that does in fact add an extra layer to our concern.

Pandemics are hard. I hope this is the only one I have to live through. Parenting is hard too. Parenting during a pandemic is extra hard. But I wouldn't trade it for not being a parent if I were given a chance.

In Which I Take a Calculated Risk and Hope I Don't Regret It

The past 14-ish months have been hard, haven't they? When my kids' schools closed in March of 2020, I had no idea the pandemic would be a very real thing that we were still dealing with in May of 2021. But the fact is that, while things are looking up in the U.S. we are not out of the woods yet and in many other countries the outlook is still very dire.

That's why I was incredibly upset yesterday when the CDC announced that it's okay for fully vaccinated people to be unmasked in nearly any situation. Since simultaneously we have decided as a society that we want to protect people's privacy and not make anyone reveal their vaccination status, this feels like a recipe for disaster. I hope I'm wrong. I hope that a combination of lowering cases and rising vaccinations means that vaccinated people plus unvaccinated people who never believed in masks going unmasks will not lead to a speak in cases. Obviously since this change was announced yesterday the jury is still out.

I have been fully vaccinated for over a month now. Mr. Engineer was fully vaccinated a week later and Squirrelboy (who turned 16 in March, just in time to qualify to be vaccinated when that age group came up) was fully vaccinated two weeks after that. At ten, however, Kittygirl does not qualify to be vaccinated. Vaccines are being tested for her age group and they'll hopefully be approved sometime this summer or early fall at the latest, but, in the meantime, with the new guidance only one member of our family is required to wear a mask.

I tell my kids life is unfair all the time, but this is one little bit of unfairness the rest of the family can rectify just a tiny little bit. Even if lots of other people in our community choose not to wear masks because of the new guidance, our whole family will continue to mask in all the places we have before. We're not going to make Kittygirl be the only one.

With vaccinations on the rise and cases on the decline in the U.S., in person events are starting to happen again. Most relevant to our family, the Friends for Life Orlando Conference, which I blogged about in 2019, is being held in person this summer. In summary, in case you don't want to read that whole post, this is a conference for people with type 1 diabetes of all ages and their families. It's an incredible place to find community with others who understand diabetes, learn new things, and simply have fun. The flagship conference is normally held every July at the Coronado Springs resort at Disney World. In 2020 the Orlando conference went virtual, and the parent organization, Children with Diabetes, has since held several other weekend virtual conferences. They have been well done, but nothing beats an in person experience.

As of the announcement, there was a promise that a ton of safety procedures would be in place. Those include masks for everyone except when eating (and only eating when seated), assigned seating for meals, and significantly reduced capacity allowing for social distancing. We had about a week to decide whether we wanted to take the risk of traveling to Florida at a time we knew the pandemic would still be going on before registration opened. I knew that if we wanted to do it, we should register as soon as possible after registration opened. For the children's programs in particularly, capacity was significantly reduced. There were only 60 spots available for Kittygirl's age group. Mr. Engineer and I talked about it and decided that the risk was small enough with the protocols in place that the experience was  worth it for me and Kittygirl. Unfortunately, it won't work for the whole family to attend this year because the dates overlap with Boy Scout camp. We also decided that our risk wasn't greatly increased by spending two days at Disney theme parks after the conference ends.

I'm hoping that the news from yesterday won't change the protocols that are in place in July. Either that or that case counts get so low it doesn't seem particularly risky to be around a bunch of unmasked people. I know some people whose kids have type 1 diabetes and/or other chronic health conditions who have hardly left their houses since March of 2020.  I know others who have had a much more nonchalant attitude than our family has had. As seems to happen often, I fall somewhere in the middle of the spectrum. We've been more careful than average, but we've allowed Kittygirl to go to stores with us, have outdoor playdates with friends outside our bubble, and play at public parks. This trip to Friends for Life and Disney World, however, will be by far the biggest risk we've taken during the pandemic.

My calculus is that the psychological benefit far outweighs the smallish health risk. Let's hope I'm right.

In Which I Share a Valentine Reflection: Love in the Time of Covid

Just in case someone happens across this who has never read one of my previous Valentine homilies, here's a quick recap. A long time ago and a few states away (really more than half my lifetime ago now, boy I'm getting old) I was a woefully single college student planning to celebrate Valentine's Day as "Black [insert day of the week here]". At the eleventh hour I did an about face in my attitude and decided to use the day as an excuse to celebrate the love of family, the love of friends, and the love of God. This was decades before "Galentine's Day" or "Palentine's Day" were trending, so clearly I'm a genius innovator :) (also, how did I get so old ?). I sent an email to some friends encouraging them to do the same. Then I sent a similar email the next year and a tradition was born. The tradition has since evolved into an annual reflection on my faith and life, with some kind of tie in to Valentine's Day. As always, feel free to share if you're so inclined. And on to the message.....

Last year at this time I was typing my Valentine Homily on my phone with one finger. Fourteen days earlier I had broken my wrist at Kittygirl's skating birthday party. The lesson it taught me was to rely on others in ways I don't usually like to do. I naively thought at the time that breaking a bone at my daughter's birthday part would be the most notable party of my year. Little did I know what 2020 had in store for the world. 

We're now 11 months and one day past the first of the stay at home orders here in Kentucky. The last time my kids attended school in person was March 13th of last year. The last time I ate at a restaurant was March 5th of last year. I don't even remember the last time I watched a movie in a theater. My purse now always has several cloth masks in it at all times, with spares in my car. I obsessively tell Kittygirl not to touch things on the rare occasions I bring her with me to the store. We lost spring and summer plans in 2020, and spring break travel this year isn't looking wise either. Even summer plans are very lightly penciled in. We really have no idea from day to day what's going to happen, it seems. Oh, and just for fun, our nation went through some pretty serious political turmoil too. You know, because 2021 had to show up 2020 or something :).

Even with all of that, though, this year has been filled with a lot of good. I fell back in love with writing middle grade fiction and started taking it seriously. I finished two manuscripts and learned how to query agents. I found a community of writers in a similar place on the journey and also began to interact with writers on social media and learned that even the famous ones are more often than not completely normal and really nice people. 

I've enjoyed our Covid-enforced reduced and/or virtualized schedule. Many of the meetings I used to have to drive kids to are now on Zoom. There's no more "Let's make sure to get dinner on the table in time for the guys to leave for Boys Scouts!" There's "Hey, it's 6:59, better log onto to Boy Scout zoom". School starts later, and there's no commute to that either. Mr. Engineer has started to go work in the lab for at least a few hours most weeks, but there are still many days when no one has to leave the house and it's pretty great after having spent years feeling like we were constantly going from one thing to the next.

At the same time, I haven't always enjoyed our Covid-enforced togetherness. My introverted soul is thirsting for more time alone. I survive by taking walks alone most weekdays and grabbing some alone time when the kids are otherwise engaged or after they've gone to bed (Which is often way too late. Did I mention remote school starts later than in person school?).

Loving your family during forced togetherness isn't always easy. Who am I kidding? It isn't usually easy. If I have to tell the kids not to touch each other's couch cushions during online worship one more time my head just might explode. Yet I guarantee I'll do it again next week. And then again. Maybe at some point they'll learn to respect each others' space, but I'm not counting on it. What I AM counting on is that the kids will come out of this pandemic not having hated the time. We've done our best to make this ridiculously unprecedented season not horrible and, dare I say, sometimes actually really good. Our big plans got cancelled, but we did little fun things instead. We played more games. We had more movie nights. And we'll continue doing our best to make this time as good as we can until it's over (because, as much as I hate to say it, it'll be awhile).

Back in another life, when I was a graduate student in Hispanic literature, one of the many books by the master Colombian writer Gabriel Garcia Marquez that I was required to read was Love in the Time of Cholera. It really has almost no relevance to what I'm writing about today, but every once in awhile I need to pull out the degrees I don't use and dust them off. The one comparison I can draw is that the protagonist has an awful lot of patience. He literally waits decades after the love of his life marries someone else so that he can declare his love again after her husband dies. Now that's dedication for you. Love in the Time of Covid also requires a lot of patience. You may be patiently waiting for a vaccine appointment so that you can be one step closer to being able to see the loved ones you've had to be apart from during the pandemic. You may be patiently (or not so patiently some days) helping your kids engage with online school even though they're totally over it. You may be patiently donning that mask you're really sick of to go into your job that can't be done remotely.

After all the turmoil of this past year, pandemic-related, politically related, or personal, what I've always come back to is that more than anything else we need to give our fellow human beings love and grace. That doesn't mean people who wrong your or wrong society shouldn't be held accountable. What it does mean is that you're only hurting yourself if you focus your energy on hating them. Grieve the wrongs that are done to you or others. Take action when appropriate. But also look for the good. Look for the love. Look for the joy. It's there, sometimes in the most unexpected places.

In Which I Play Catch Up

Remember back when I started this blog and I posted five days a week? Those were the good old days. You know, when the kids actually went to school somewhere other than our house, I could blithely run errands to six places during the day without thinking about it, and I didn't own a collection of masks. Ah, 2019, how we miss you. Who would have thought that breaking my wrist at Kittygirl's birthday party on the last day of January this year would not be the most eventful part of our our family's year?

Anyway, the pandemic isn't the only reason I haven't blogged recently. Life just has a bad habit of getting away from me. I suppose I can partly blame it on ADHD, but that's not the only reason. There are just so many immediate things to be accomplished on a daily basis that things like finally sitting down and blogging fall by the wayside. Who am I kidding? It's not just blogging. It's also important but not every day task things that fall by the wayside, like scooping the little boxes and cleaning the guinea pig cage. You do not want to know how much poop was in the litter box when I cleaned it this weekend.

To update you on my last post, Squirrelboy was super excited to receive a letter of acceptance to the National Honor Society a couple weeks ago. Looking back on his early school experience I'm just blown away by how far he's come. I'm regularly amazed by how much he cares about school and how hard he works to submit his best effort. Many of his teachers allow retakes of tests and quizzes. This weekend he retook a geometry quiz twice to get a perfect score. Reader, he got 18/20 the first time so it's not as if he absolutely needed to retake it at all.

I completely missed posting during Diabetes Awareness Month in November, so here's an executive summary of what you should know about type 1 diabetes if you're unfamiliar with it: It's an autoimmune disease. It is not caused by diet. It is lifelong unless a cure is found. It can strike at any age. In fact, about half of new diagnoses are in adults. It's relentless, and something you have to deal with 24 hours a day every.single.day. The one bright spot to having diabetes or having a child with diabetes is the diabetes community, which is amazing. See last November's daily posts for details about these statements and much more.

With this year being totally out of whack, our big summer vacation plans being cancelled, and more recently Thanksgiving and Christmas travel to Grandma and Grandpa's house being cancelled, it's been nice to immerse ourselves in our familiar Advent traditions. In case you don't know, Advent is celebrated beginning four Sundays before Christmas. The name comes from the Latin word "coming", and it is a time to step back, reflect, and prepare to celebrate the coming of Jesus at Christmas as well as to reflect on Jesus' eventual second coming.

We established a tradition when Squirrelboy was quite young of lighting an Advent wreath every evening as a family and reading both a Bible passage and a fun Christmas story. After the reading the kids get to open the Advent calendar. Our Advent setup is below. My ADHD brain, while it struggles to make routines happen, at the same time functions much better when they're in place and established as habits, so Advent, as a many years long habit, is a particularly meaningful time to me and a pleasant break from the chaos that December often brings to a family with school age kids. There's a lot less chaos this year what with the pandemic cancelling so many activities, but at the same time the pandemic causes its own chaos, even if it's just internal, so the break is still welcome.

Another of our Advent traditions is the annual visits of Sam, our Elf on the Shelf, and Isaiah John, our shepherd. I'm presuming you know what an Elf on the Shelf looks like, reader, and if you don't, I'll spare you his slightly creepy visage. I will, however, introduce you to Isaiah John, who is quite cute.

Isaiah John's visit reminds us to focus on Jesus during Advent, as he spends every night while we sleep searching for Baby Jesus, whom he always, conveniently, finds just in time for Christmas morning.  Isaiah John also returns just before Easter, looking for a sheep he seems to lose every year at about the same time. Silly Isaiah John.

Surprisingly, the pandemic hasn't been as bad for our family as you might think it would have been. I think following routines has been part of the key to that. Our kids have consistent places to do their schoolwork, I'm able to give them consistent supervision, one of their favorite activities (scouting) has continued with a mix of digital and outdoor meetings and activities, and we've been able to have unrushed family dinners nearly every night.

I'll be happy when the U.S. is able to get the pandemic under control (not until a decent portion of the population has received a vaccine is looking like the likely timeframe) and we can return to normal activities and normal life, but for the moment I'm choosing to focus on the things that are going well. For whatever reason, that doesn't seem to leave much time for blogging :).

 

In Which Squirrelboy is Nominated for the National Honor Society

 I was pretty much the ideal student all the way through school. I learned to read mostly on my own in kindergarten, even though reading wasn't formally taught until first grade back in the dark ages of the 1980's. I learned easily in the way that schools teach, and I was eager to learn. I was an excellent test taker. I was polite and never disruptive in the classroom. The only negative comments teachers ever had about me were that I could speak up a little bit more than I did. Even though I am certain I have ADHD, my ADHD had no apparent effect on my school performance at any level. I did miss or come late to class a handful of time in college when I was fully in charge of my schedule, but it's not like that's really weird for any college student. My ADHD didn't really become disruptive until I had lives other than mine to be concerned about (ie, until I became a parent).

Squirrelboy's school experience has not quite been the opposite of mine, but it has absolutely been very different. Because he's generally kind and polite (not always to me and Mr. Engineer, but, hey, he's a teenager) he has usually been well liked by his teachers. However, every single academic thing about school has always been hard for him thanks to his dyslexia and ADHD.

In kindergarten, as I've shared before, his teacher assured us for the first half of the year that he'd catch onto reading eventually. She told us it was common for kids, especially boys, to not really understand reading during the fall of kindergarten but suddenly make a big leap forward in the third quarter of the year. Spoiler alert: Squirrelboy never made that leap.

Once we got the official dyslexia diagnosis, it became abundantly clear that learning to read well would never be a process of leaping for him or of "the turning of a key" as is sometimes described. It would be a process of methodical, tiny steps up a steep hill toward the goal. Though there are schools out there that have the resources and the will to teach students with dyslexia in a way that works for their brains, Squirrelboy's school was not one of them. The way the school was teaching reading was never going to work with him.

Even when we came with this evidence in hand, however, Squirrelboy's kindergarten teacher was insistent that the best possible thing for him was to repeat kindergarten. This despite the overwhelming evidence that the way he was being taught was not appropriate for the way his brain worked. She still thought it would be best for him to spend another year being taught the same things in the same way. You know, the things that didn't work for him the first time.

Fortunately, our school system does not under normal circumstances for students to repeat a grade. They leave that choice up to the parents. We were blessed to be well educated, be native speakers of English, not be minorities, and have personal experience with dyslexia through Mr. Engineer. We insisted that Squirrelboy be passed on to first grade and it happened. First grade was a pretty miserable year learning-wise with a lot of tears, but by second grade, thanks to a lot of hours of tutoring outside of school by experts, Squirrelboy was beginning to catch up.

Even when he was mostly caught up, however, learning in the way the school expected was always an uphill battle for Squirrelboy. He worked ten times harder for any A or B he received than the average student. Homeschooling him for middle school provided a three year breather in which we could forget about grades entirely and focus on helping him enjoy learning again.

When he went off to high school, Mr. Engineer and I were nervous. He still had a serious problem paying attention to details, which showed up in his work. He also did not always seem to care about doing his best work. We thought his first semester of high school might need to serve as a wakeup call for him to always pay attention, do his best work, and ask for help when necessary. Since his school requires students to retake core courses if they don't earn an 83% or higher, we thought he might even have to retake one or two classes.

We were wrong. Squirrelboy immediately cared deeply both about his grades and about working hard to do his best work. He came out of the first semester with three A's and two high B's. He finished the second semester with all A's. So far in his sophomore year he has all A's. I would be among the first to tell you that it's not all about grades. Squirrelboy hasn't only earned good grades. He has invested in his learning, worked on becoming more independent, and learned to advocate and stand up for himself when he needs accommodations because of the way his brain works.

Because I was the perfect student, being nominated and then selected for the National Honor Society was not a surprise to me. It was, however, a huge surprise to Squirrelboy last week when he received an email with an invitation to apply to join the National Honor Society. He's been diligently working on the application, making sure it's his best work and represents not only his academic achievement but his service to his community, particularly through Boy Scouts. I have no idea how competitve the process of admission into his school's chapter of the National Honor Society is. Having the opportunity to fill out the application is not a guarantee that he will get in. However, just being nominated is a huge honor and shows just how far he's come. He's striding toward a successful future. I wish his kindergarten teacher could see him now.