So He Didn’t Go There, Either.
Dylan’s Gifted and Talented (GT) program ended after 5th grade, so I spent the entire year exploring middle school options.
These are the same options I will be exploring for Shane starting this fall. This time, though, we already know what the options are.
First, there is the option of GT for public middle schoolers. If a student is lucky (and smart) enough to be accepted into the GT program for middle school, he has to take a bus ride of nearly an hour – both ways – to attend the program. One of the schools is so far south, it’s almost at the Washington, D.C. line. The other school is the same distance north, and a much better option in my opinion, because I would rather drive away from rush hour traffic.
The northern school has a strong emphasis on writing. Dylan does not excel in writing, especially thanks to what is called “developmental coordination disorder” or – possibly – dysgraphia.
My understanding of this disorder is that for every word Dylan tries to get from his brain onto the paper, 7,000 other things are jumping around, distracting him, so that it takes every ounce of concentration he can muster to get the word onto the piece of paper. It is sheer agony for him to write.
He can – and does – type easier than he writes. But it is still not an enjoyable experience for him. So we nixed the GT programs without even applying.
Then we explored the GT/LD program for middle school, which – in my opinion – was a perfect fit for Dylan. We went in for a visit, to see what it was like.
The classroom was full of long-haired boys (only one girl) who were jumping around, talking and laughing – and all obviously quite intelligent. Their discussion of the book Hoot, which happened to be taking place during the day we observed, was beyond any book discussion I’d had, even in college.
Dylan would have fit right in. The option was to mainstream the GT/LD kids for most of their classes – P.E., art, music, science and social studies – and stay in their own classroom for language arts and math. It sounded perfect.
“Those are the bad kids,” Dylan told me. “I don’t want to be in a classroom full of bad kids.”
He’d never met those kids before. But he already knew the stereotype, the judgmentalism and the cruelties he’d be facing as part of that group. So we didn’t apply for that, either.
Then, there were the three magnet programs in public school: aerospace, computer technology and performing arts. These middle schools were further “downcounty,” meaning that the populations were more urban (with more issues) than I would have liked.
But Dylan was a singing superstar, and loved the idea of going to the school with the greatest choral teacher in any middle school, anywhere. The chorus had won numerous awards – and Dylan would have fit right in.
So he applied, and was accepted into the performing arts school.
But none of his friends were going to that school. So he didn’t go there, either.
Had we known then that his friends were going to desert him in middle school anyway, we would have maybe reconsidered his decision. To be honest, I don’t think it would have made much difference where he went to middle school. It was going to be a disaster anyway.
But we did apply to one other private school, just in case.