Let me introduce this blog by telling you something that happened to me a couple of days ago.

I was at the dog park watching my 11-month-old Golden Doodle, Klezmer, play in a mud puddle with another now equally filthy dog, when said pup’s owner, Stacey, and I started chatting. We talked about our dogs, of course, and how gross our cars were because of them, and how we didn’t care how gross our cars were because what’s more important, a happy dog or a pristine car. And then we moved on to our kids, and how gross our cars were because of them, and how stressed we both were because school was about to start. In my experience as a mother and as an educator, nothing is more stressful than having kids in school. NOTHING. I’d choose a mountain of work deadlines combined with an IRS audit and a mammogram over being party to my children’s travails in school. It didn’t used to be like that. Parents had very little to do with the day-to-day details of their children’s education. I’m pretty sure my mother didn’t even know what grade I was in, which would explain her surprise when I invited her to my high school graduation. I liked school. So did my friends. Sure we worked hard, but no one was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

Stacey and I bonded over our sympathetic anxiety for our children and our frustration with public school systems, so our conversation was more open than one would expect of two essential strangers. She told me that her son, Jake, was a talented musician and a bright, curious learner, but he had always struggled in school despite the accommodations afforded him by his IEP (Individualized Educational Program). I asked what his diagnosis was, and she replied that no one really knew but that he was a slow reader, had difficulty understanding or remembering what he read, and found taking notes from the board an almost insurmountable challenge. I inquired about Jake’s auditory skills, and she said that they were exceptional. Even as a preschooler, he was able to recognize musical phrases long after he had heard them originally and in another context. Could he repeat lines of dialogue verbatim from movies or television shows he had seen only once, I asked. Yes, she said, visibly surprised that I had anticipated her son’s special gift. Does he lose his place on a page, does one of his eyes appear to cross even subtly, can he throw a ball much better than he can catch one? Yes, yes, and yes! “How could you possibly know all that?! You’ve never even met him.”

After I assured Stacey that I hadn’t somehow planted a nanny cam in her house, I explained that I was an Educational Specialist and that I thought Jake had a visual processing issue. This would have to be confirmed with an official evaluation by a developmental optometrist, but I was confident in my assessment.

In my over twenty years of experience, I have found that visual processing disorders, like so many learning disabilities, don’t display in isolation. Rather, most learning disabilities are part of a constellation of seemingly unrelated characteristics. Why children with visual processing disorders are often musical, for example, I couldn’t tell you, but the correlation is consistent. The same goes for their extraordinary auditory memory and even in some cases their long limbs. So in response to why I knew so much about a teenager I’d never met, all of the attributes I’d mentioned were part of a larger puzzle. Once I had a couple of the pieces in place, I could make a reliable guess. And the really cool thing is that visual processing disorders are remediable at any age through specialized vision therapy.

Stacey was both delighted and baffled by the news. She didn’t understand why none of the other specialists Jake had seen, and there were a lot of them, hadn’t nailed the diagnosis. This was a game-changer. Jake’s ego had taken a beating because he couldn’t be in the honors and AP classes his best friends were in. Now there was a realistic hope that he might be able to join them in another year. Jake would be thrilled to learn that there was a name for his problem as well as a solution. Then Stacey said it – the refrain which in one form or another I’ve heard again and again – “I wish I’d met you years ago. Where have you been all this time?”

And that brings me to the purpose of this blog. I want to let all you parents out there know: I’M RIGHT HERE WHENEVER YOU NEED ME. I’ll write about educational issues that are on my mind, and hopefully you’ll write back with responses, questions, answers, and ideas. I want to be a parent and an educator who hears you when no one else seems to, who either has answers to your questions or can guide you to someone or something that does, who supports you when you’re ready to pull your hair out because it’s taken your son two hours to do one math problem or when you think your daughter’s English teacher sucks – and you’re probably right – but the school is unresponsive to your complaints. You name it, I’ll tackle it. I can’t wait!