Big Important Meeting about Little Fish today. And lots of smiles, lots of happy faces, she's doing really well, everyone's delighted with her progress and how well she's settled at school. All the children love her, all the staff think she's wonderful, she's having a great time.
Just a few minor problems... She's still not funded for all the help she needs. Although entitled to transport there's no one willing to provide it, and in the meantime she's missing the end of school so that someone can walk her home as a favour. We're trespassing on a lot of people's goodwill, and it won't last forever.
And then, post meeting, a short brief chat with the teacher "How do you move her past 'I don't know'?" I wish I knew. It's her latest get-out; if she can't be bothered, or doesn't want to think, then "I don't know" stalls any kind of conversation. A look at her schoolwork. Big grey scribbles. Which apparently puts her at the bottom of the 30 children in her class. Not a problem, and I know it's not a competition. But why does everyone keep saying "She's such a bright little thing", "she's as smart as a whip", etc., when on closer examination she's actually really quite hard of thinking? I don't care where she is in relation to her peers. I do care that her learning disabilities are being somewhat sidelined by her physical disabilities and complex health needs. It's a good school, and the welcome they've given to her and to all her therapists has been incredible; she's very happy and it's definitely the right plce for her. But still... she can't catch up when they run around in the playground; it'd be nice if she could catch up at least occasionally when they sit around a table.
And then home, and two girls happy to see me, less happy to do the bedtime thing. And a pile of letters, new appointments, more commitments, and one big fat annoyance I'm too cross to blog about and will instead go to bed and stew over.