Saturday, February 12, 2011

Looking at old report cards

In my quest to ferret old and useless things to throw or give away, I came across a dusty, unlabeled plastic tub in the storage area above the stairs. I had totally forgotten what was in it. When I opened it, the first thing I saw was an old, over-stuffed, brown envelope with "Mom's early years" written on it. I'm 'mom'. I guess I labeled it that way so when I'm dead and buried, my children would know it might be something they want to keep.

I found all of my report cards from kindergarten through high school, with only the middle school ones missing, for some reason. I was curious to see if there was any sign of my being 'different' as a child, long before they had the label "Asperger's".

The overall impression, from reading the grades and the teachers' comments is that I was outstanding in reading and art. I didn't like to participate in P.E. (no comment as to why). I tended to be unorganized, didn't listen for directions or necessarily follow them, I needed to slow down, and to be more patient with the other students, and I was a little perfectionist. They all adored me, with the exception of my 5th grade teacher. The comments always mentioned more drill and work needed in arithmetic.

I still remember my 5th grade teacher as the low point of my school career. Mean Mrs. Green! She didn't like me, and was always trying to send me to the nurse or the speech therapist. She said I talked funny and too fast. She commented on the report card that I often didn't seem to feel well. I'm guessing now it wasn't physical. When you know the teacher doesn't like you, and you are not hitting it off socially with the other students, you very well might not seem as if you feel well. I don't remember being sick that year, other than what everyone else suffered with.

I do remember trying to stay in the room from recess. I wouldn't have considered it punishment to be sentenced to sitting in the classroom during recess. Alas, I wasn't cunning enough to bring such a sentence down on my own head. Instead, I just asked--and was refused. Recess was a bore, and I didn't have any reason to go out and socialize. I would rather read a book.

I didn't expect to see a comment: "Referring this child for evaluation for Asperger's". I can see traces and hints, though. A girl can almost go unnoticed, and even today, that's true for Aspie girls. Good thing I told the other grandmother of my granddaughter, who is raising her, about my diagnosis. With that knowledge, and the way D is behaving, she's been referred for evaluation for Asperger's.

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