The "Not Quite" Kid

After another long day of conferences yesterday (which, by the way, went well), for some reason one conference won't leave the forefront of my brain. Interestingly enough, this conference should have been one of my easiest. The little girl whose progress was the subject of our conversations tonight is hard working and sweet-natured. She has supportive parents and a stellar classroom teacher.

All of this kiddo's test scores were within a couple of points for being at the expected skill level for the beginning of the year--"not quite" there, but so close that no one has any doubts about her ability to perform well in the classroom (by and large "typical"). She has friends at school--one good buddy in particular--but she's "not quite" the social butterfly that parents see her as in her home setting.  When she's working in the classroom, she's getting braver, but she's "not quite" comfortable asking for help from her teacher when she's unsure of her school work. In the speech room, she works diligently to correct missed sounds in her speech, but since summer break, she has "not quite" had the same level of success she was experiencing in May.

All this "not quite" was sprinkled throughout the conference, but it never took center stage. This child's successes, her attitude, her fun sense of style--were the focus of the conference. To me, the whole conversation was positive. I could tell--almost immediately--that the kiddo wasn't picking up the overtones of praise, however. With each "not quite," I saw her squirm in her seat, saw her bite her lip, saw her look pleadingly at her parents and at the clock, and finally--saw tears spring to her darling brown eyes.

It broke my heart to see her so insecure as an elementary-school student. I wanted to scoop her up and just love on her until she could see her worth—until she didn’t feel as though “not quite” was something that defined her.

I guess it will just have to be a project of mine this school year—to love on that little one and build her up as much as I can each time I see her.

In other news, I had my piano tuned this afternoon; it hadn’t been done in 3-4 years, and it desperately needed some TLC. I had a chance to play it yesterday without little toddler fingers clamoring for her turn at the “mee-oh,” and instead of enjoying the moment, I was set on edge by my rusty skills and the horribly flat “B” in the octave below middle “C.” Now, I’m sure it sounds lovely, but Anna’s asleep, and there’s no way I’m going to risk waking the baby to dive into an old Hymn book. Maybe later…