A few days after I posted the October Edition, his school published the official team picture for football.
Remember in the October Edition when I said he was little? Third row from the bottom, third kid from your right. Told you. Even his head is tiny.
You can't even see his tiny little head in the "act stupid" picture.
He also insists I put a picture of this years school football shirt on here. You know, because his name is on the back and apparently that is REALLY awesome.
And although the JV Team doesn't have playoff games, the Varsity team does. The Varsity team went undefeated for the season, and then went on to win the West Tennessee championship title! That's a pretty big deal!
Justice had his board of review for Scouts this month for advancement to Tenderfoot. He was nervous, but afterwards he said that he "thought he did OK". He was quiet on the way home and asked me:
"What does thrifty mean?"
"Cheap", I said.
He put his head in his hands and said "I knew it was wrong. I really screwed up Mom. The board asked me what part of the Scout Oath and Law I needed to work on and I told them:
"'Being thrifty, because I don't always have what I need, when I need it'. But that's the definition of being prepared. I feel so stupid, Brother Xxxxxxx is going to think I'm a moron."
He sulked around a bit, then told me he wanted to talk to Brother Xxxxxxx about it. I suggested he send him an email, and he did. This is what he sent him. I had to laugh. Gets right to the point.
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Brother Xxxxxxx,
I'm sorry for bothering you , but I wanted to tell you that I accidentally gave you the wrong meaning of thrifty. I gave you the definition of prepared instead. It's been bugging me since Sunday, and I don't want you to think I'm stupid.
What I really need to work on is being brave. I'm sort of a person who is scared of everything.
Sincerely,
Justice Mack
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Brother Xxxxxxx had already told me that Justice did a great job and that he was impressed with his maturity, so I personally did not think it was necessary to write the email, and I didn't want to tell him that Brother Xxxxxxx probably hadn't even noticed he gave him the wrong definition. But I was thankful he has the integrity to worry about his reputation and want to clarify his screw up.
Brother Xxxxxxx was kind enough to send him this response:
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Justice
Thanks for the note. I appreciate your email clarifying your answer given to the review board. But you can believe me when I say that the board was impressed with your demeanor and confidence demonstrated during your interview. We see great leadership potential in you in the coming years. Keep up the good work and keep progressing toward your goals. I believe you will quickly overcome any obstacles you set your mind to conquer.
Bro. Xxxxxxx
p.s. By the way – I enjoy your email address – Go Cougars!
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I had one of those panicky "My boy is growing up" moments after church on the Sunday after this email exchange. After choir practice, Justice jumped up and went right over to Brother Xxxxxxx with his hand outstretched to shake his hand. Brother Xxxxxx shook his hand and they exchanged words and that was all… But for a boy to just know to offer an outstretched hand as a greeting towards another man is a sure-fire sign that he is indeed growing up. I don't like it, not one bit. But I suppose I better get used to it, it's going to happen whether I like it or not.
Guess who got all A's on their report card? Yay!
Report card days are funny things around our house. When the first set of kids was young, report card days were a huge deal. The Coach and I worried about report card days for weeks leading up to them. And it was always a crap shoot. One kid that would typically do just fine would come home with a random D, and another kid that would always get a D would get A's and B's. No consistency whatsoever. And the kids themselves were always a sick mess right before they were issued. The kid that was going to bring home the D suddenly turned into a "what can I do for you, can I help you?" kid, and another might just sink into a fake depression in hopes we would go easy on them. I eagerly anticipate report card days with Justice, because I know there will be no random D. Thanks to modern technology these days, I have a better feel for where he is at compared to 15 years ago with the other kids. And he has his report card in hand when he gets off the bus, ready to show it to me. It's not "lost", the teachers printer did not "break" that day, and it wasn't stolen by a kid with even worse grades. Nor is it a terrible copy of what was supposed to be an easy change from D to B. HA! Yes, yes folks, I've lived it all with regards to report cards. I know enough about parenting to know they may not always be this pretty, but for now I will just revel in the beauty that is an all A report card and the boy that is really unhappy about that social studies grade.
Parent teacher conferences were the best I think I've ever attended. I almost didn't add this, but I want to. I don't like overly braggy parents. I really don't. And I admit I get braggy about Justice. But he deserves it, and I don't get to brag very often since our older children have decided to make their lives as difficult as possible for themselves by not listening to a single word we told them as they were growing up. Ugh. I keep it off of Facebook unless it's a really big deal, but in the spirit of "This is my blog and I get to say whatever the heck I want", I'm going to brag.
Justice's teachers love him. The statement that stuck out in my head the most was from his Language Arts teacher. She is a (much) older lady, has been teaching for a very long time. And she said, as she pointed her bony finger at me:
"He has a gift, he is a brilliant child. I haven't seen a child like him come through these doors in more years than I care to count."
That makes my heart sing.
One other very important thing… None of his teachers had any clue he has ADHD. He didn't want any of them to know until the first parent teacher conferences because he wanted to see how his behavior was without them knowing. He didn't want to be "stereotyped" as the "kid with ADHD". I let it slide for a grading period so he could finish out his experiment, but told him they had to know after that. They need to know, I need them to be watchful of his behavior so I can make sure his medication is working properly. And he was happy to see the looks of shock on all of their faces when he told them.
One other very important thing… None of his teachers had any clue he has ADHD. He didn't want any of them to know until the first parent teacher conferences because he wanted to see how his behavior was without them knowing. He didn't want to be "stereotyped" as the "kid with ADHD". I let it slide for a grading period so he could finish out his experiment, but told him they had to know after that. They need to know, I need them to be watchful of his behavior so I can make sure his medication is working properly. And he was happy to see the looks of shock on all of their faces when he told them.
And then we went to choir, and I got to meet his choir teacher. Now listen, I've said several times that I just don't get this whole "Justice is a good singer" business. I am a horrible Mom, I know. But I just don't see it. He sings MUCH better than he did before he started with choir, but I still just don't see it. I mentioned in an earlier "random" post that he has auditioned for the All-State Treble Choir. He found out that he made it! While I'm really really happy for him, and it will be a wonderful opportunity, I'm sort of still scratching my head.
The choir teacher had me laughing. When The Coach and I walked in to meet him he said:
"Which one of you did Justice inherit his musical talent from?"
HAHAHA! I was proud of myself, instead of saying "What musical talent?" I politely said "neither". The choir teacher must think I'm the worst parent ever. He's telling me that Justice is amazing and I'm looking at him like he's absolutely NUTS. Justice saw my face and starts laughing and he says:
"My Mom doesn't think I can sing!"
The choir teacher then says:
"Come to the Veteran's Day Program! He is singing a solo!"
Say WHAT?
And sing a solo he did. And he did a great job. He has also started piano, and he LOVES it. I'm anxious to see how far he goes with that. His ultimate desire it to learn to play the guitar (my Dad writes music and is a fantastic guitar player) but lessons for that are difficult to come by here. So, he will learn the piano first, then move on to guitar once he's learned to read music.
And guess what else happened this month? Progress reports! Yes, really. Report cards and progress reports all in the same month. Doesn't quite seem right now does it? I don't think so.
We also had a tragedy this month, that snuck in right on the last day.
Last year right before TCAP's, the pharmacy ran out of Justice's ADHD medications. Due to a nationwide shortage, he was unable to have his regular dosage during TCAP week. I happened to have on hand some of his meds, but they were a much lower dose than he normally takes. I gave him the lower dose, but TCAP's were disastrous. I learned a really valuable lesson from this experience. Justice is eligible for special education because ADHD technically makes him a special needs kid. I have never filed an Individualized Education Plan (IEP) with the school because he has been an outstanding student and the need never arose. Oh how I wish I would have done that anyhow just in case. By the time TCAP's came and went, it was too late. If he had an IEP, I could have had his test postponed until I got his medications straightened out, or they would have had to provide special testing for him. Now don't get me wrong, he didn't do poorly overall. He received "advanced" scores in Reading, Math, and Social Studies. BUT, he was only "proficient" in science. That's never ever happened before. He missed being advanced by one point, but he didn't care. All he saw was "proficient" and he was a mess. (He scored a 798, he needed a 799 to be advanced). He typically nearly aces all the sections, so being only proficient was a blow to him.
But I learned something really interesting by looking at his test scores. And all people who scoff at ADHD ought to see these test scores. Let's take reading for example. He scored an overall 825 in reading, which is advanced. He scored a 100% on 5 sections out of 9, and high 90%s in 3 sections. He got a freaking 78% in one section, which isn't awful. It's not even a proficient score. Guess what section that was?
LOGIC.
It makes absolute perfect sense to me that a child whose little brain misfires in the decision making process would score so low in that particular area. I'm not disappointed in his test scores, he still did great overall. He was advanced in all areas except one, and only missed it by one point. Considering he wasn't properly medicated I think that's fantastic. But, unfortunately, there will be a price to be paid. He will lose his admission in Duke Universities gifted scholars program because of that proficient score. I haven't broken the news to him yet, he will be devastated. I'm going to wait until he is officially dis-enrolled before I tell him, which will be at the end of the school year. Up until that point I will start putting less emphasis on that program at home to try and ease the pain a little when it finally comes around. This will be a big deal for him, he's going to be crushed. BUT, he also has to learn the reality of what life is all about. You can't win everything, and every once in a while you will fall down. How quickly you get back up, dust your self off and move on is what is really important.
I'm torn about the IEP. One part of me wishes I would have done it and avoided this whole nightmare, but the other part thinks this may have some good lessons involved. He has always thought his medications are what makes him smart. He thinks without them he's dumb and that he will have to take them his entire life to be successful. This proves that's not the case. And not to put little emphasis on the test, but let's be real. It's only 6th grade TCAP. It's not tied to a college application. He will recover and do just fine.
And sing a solo he did. And he did a great job. He has also started piano, and he LOVES it. I'm anxious to see how far he goes with that. His ultimate desire it to learn to play the guitar (my Dad writes music and is a fantastic guitar player) but lessons for that are difficult to come by here. So, he will learn the piano first, then move on to guitar once he's learned to read music.
And guess what else happened this month? Progress reports! Yes, really. Report cards and progress reports all in the same month. Doesn't quite seem right now does it? I don't think so.
We also had a tragedy this month, that snuck in right on the last day.
Last year right before TCAP's, the pharmacy ran out of Justice's ADHD medications. Due to a nationwide shortage, he was unable to have his regular dosage during TCAP week. I happened to have on hand some of his meds, but they were a much lower dose than he normally takes. I gave him the lower dose, but TCAP's were disastrous. I learned a really valuable lesson from this experience. Justice is eligible for special education because ADHD technically makes him a special needs kid. I have never filed an Individualized Education Plan (IEP) with the school because he has been an outstanding student and the need never arose. Oh how I wish I would have done that anyhow just in case. By the time TCAP's came and went, it was too late. If he had an IEP, I could have had his test postponed until I got his medications straightened out, or they would have had to provide special testing for him. Now don't get me wrong, he didn't do poorly overall. He received "advanced" scores in Reading, Math, and Social Studies. BUT, he was only "proficient" in science. That's never ever happened before. He missed being advanced by one point, but he didn't care. All he saw was "proficient" and he was a mess. (He scored a 798, he needed a 799 to be advanced). He typically nearly aces all the sections, so being only proficient was a blow to him.
But I learned something really interesting by looking at his test scores. And all people who scoff at ADHD ought to see these test scores. Let's take reading for example. He scored an overall 825 in reading, which is advanced. He scored a 100% on 5 sections out of 9, and high 90%s in 3 sections. He got a freaking 78% in one section, which isn't awful. It's not even a proficient score. Guess what section that was?
LOGIC.
It makes absolute perfect sense to me that a child whose little brain misfires in the decision making process would score so low in that particular area. I'm not disappointed in his test scores, he still did great overall. He was advanced in all areas except one, and only missed it by one point. Considering he wasn't properly medicated I think that's fantastic. But, unfortunately, there will be a price to be paid. He will lose his admission in Duke Universities gifted scholars program because of that proficient score. I haven't broken the news to him yet, he will be devastated. I'm going to wait until he is officially dis-enrolled before I tell him, which will be at the end of the school year. Up until that point I will start putting less emphasis on that program at home to try and ease the pain a little when it finally comes around. This will be a big deal for him, he's going to be crushed. BUT, he also has to learn the reality of what life is all about. You can't win everything, and every once in a while you will fall down. How quickly you get back up, dust your self off and move on is what is really important.
I'm torn about the IEP. One part of me wishes I would have done it and avoided this whole nightmare, but the other part thinks this may have some good lessons involved. He has always thought his medications are what makes him smart. He thinks without them he's dumb and that he will have to take them his entire life to be successful. This proves that's not the case. And not to put little emphasis on the test, but let's be real. It's only 6th grade TCAP. It's not tied to a college application. He will recover and do just fine.
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