Parenting Unfiltered: Learning Challenges

Parenting is not easy. Anyone who tells you otherwise is not being honest with you (or themselves, frankly). And no one can prepare you for the unique challenges your child will face because, like each of us, no two kiddos are exactly alike.

I have two children ― a son and a daughter. They are growing up in the same household, under the guidance of the same parents (my husband and me), and encountering many of the same experiences. Yet they are as different as can be. Situations that might be tough for my daughter will not even faze my son, and vice versa. 

This is particularly evident at the moment when it comes to education. My daughter appears to be meeting all the appropriate milestones with ease. That is not the case for her brother.

I just got out of a Student Success Team (SST) meeting at my son’s elementary school, where he’s in 3rd grade. The “team” included the school psychologist, several learning specialists, and the vice principal. I requested the meeting because it is apparent that my sweet little boy, who is brilliant (I know I’m his mom, but it’s the truth, darn it) is struggling academically. His teachers have been pointing out a discrepancy between what he seems to know and what he is able to put down on paper since he was in kindergarten.

At first, I chalked it up to COVID. My son spent the first several months of that foundational kindergarten year on Zoom. After heeding the warnings about screen time for the first five years of his life, I hesitantly logged him onto his school-issued tablet, where he was expected to sit for the better part of five hours learning to read and do math. 

My son struggled to stay engaged, and my efforts to keep him on track were not received well, to put it nicely. I was constantly frustrated by his inability to follow along, even when I would sit with him and guide him through a worksheet. After countless meltdowns (both him and me), I let his teacher know we’d be logging off after attendance each morning and completing the assignments on our own. Needless to say, he did not have a normal start to his education.

When he did return to the classroom (hallelujah!), he was behind, but so were many of the other kids in his grade, so I was not overly concerned. I asked his teacher and several other education experts I know what I could do to help him catch up. I also explained to them the complicated dynamic at home, meaning my son will listen to anyone else doing the teaching, except for me. 

The prevailing advice was simple: Don’t just practice math problems (which, by the way, are now called “number sentences” — you’re welcome); turn them into engaging games! I tried that. Every time I suggested we play one of these so-called games, I would get so frustrated with his hesitation to work with me, I wound up yelling. Guess what? That does not make math — or reading, or any other subject — fun. Of course, the yelling leads to the downward spiral into mom guilt and feelings of inadequacy.

At school, my son is a great student by all accounts, but his reading, writing, and math skills are not yet at the appropriate levels. After spending extra time and money on tutoring over the summer, we were told he still wasn’t close to where he should be heading into 3rd grade. His tutors cautioned me that 3rd grade is a crucial year when reading and basic math skills would be expanded upon, and without those strong foundations, his challenges would only become more pronounced.

I want to pause here and explain something: This is not a sob story about my overachieving self needing my son to be the top of his class. His success is important to me, but I know he’s going to excel in whatever path he chooses someday, and I believe that “success” is a relative term. The “hard” part for me has been navigating the conversations with him about why he’s facing these challenges without undermining his intelligence and finding the right words to respond when he comes home from school and says things like, “Mom, I hate my brain. I am so slow, and I can’t keep up with my friends in class.” 

He cried almost daily in 2nd grade before class. Every morning on the drive to school, he would beg me to not make him go. While I know that pushing him to tackle difficult things will build character, it still breaks my heart. Because here’s the thing — I can get him tutoring, and I can play math games and read him engaging stories. I can remind him of all his incredible strengths and how very loved he is. But I cannot control how he feels about himself or protect him from other kids’ ridicule or, worse, his inner critic. That is hard.

That brings me back to today’s SST meeting. I walked into the room ready to advocate for my son. I knew we would discuss assessment options and individual education plans, but I also got something unexpected. In a room full of educational specialists, I found encouragement. I was overwhelmed by the understanding and compassion from the other women sitting around the table with me. 

Many of them, also mothers, could relate to my experiences, my doubts, my insecurities, and ultimately my unrelenting desire to protect and provide my son with the resources he requires to succeed. I felt they genuinely cared about my son and were as dedicated to meeting his needs as my husband and I am. (I acknowledge that not every parent in my circumstance has the same experience in the public education system.)

I know I am not alone in this journey through the labyrinth of parenting a child with unique learning needs. I had considered going into more detail about my son, the many setbacks we have faced, the resources we’ve discovered along the way, and include advice from an educational therapist, but that really is not the point I want to make in this column. I know there is no cookie-cutter solution to the issues my son faces, and what works for him will not necessarily work for the next kid. What is universal is the struggle we face as parents as we navigate these uncharted territories.

I am not the only parent who has moments of deep doubt about whether I am doing enough, whether it’s providing enough educational or emotional support, and even feeling like a failure. We are all dealing with our own struggles in parenting, and there is no point in ranking our levels of hardship. Because what might feel like a challenge to me in this moment will likely seem trivial to many of you. I know there are much worse woes in the great grand scheme of things. I am confident that with the help of his SST and the guidance of others who have been through it before us, we will find our way.

That said, if you do want to chat with me about educational resources, please reach out! If you want to critique my parenting, please keep it to yourself. I am not here as a parenting expert. I am just a mother in the trenches of parenthood who happens to also be a writer. I believe the more we highlight our own experiences, the more we can find solidarity, and in that, some grace for each other, and hopefully, for ourselves.

Sara Bush is a happy wife, devoted mother of two, and journalist with a passion for storytelling. She also serves as a media relations consultant at Carra, a boutique marketing and media relations agency in Santa Barbara. Sara finds inspiration in the extraordinary joy that comes with the ordinary day-to-day of raising children.