Ms. X called shortly after school let out today, to report that Sophie had a great day. One “time out,” but otherwise pretty darn good.
“And she wrote her name today,” she added.
At all the meetings we had last winter and spring, to determine Sophie’s next step, the one face at the table that was always the dourest belonged to the occupational therapist, who’s in charge of fine motor skills. She made no bones: The OT said point blank that she did not think Sophie could handle kindergarten.
“She may never be able to write her name,” she said at one of the early meetings.
That line has haunted me since. Look, I know we’re just entering the computer age. By the time she’s an adult, Sophie and everyone else will have some sort of computer strapped to them that will probably let them communicate with their eyes, never mind type with fingers. Handwriting will be obsolete.
But to hear that my child may never be able to write her own name?
“Are you sure?” I asked Ms. X. “Really? She did it herself?”
She promised to show me next week, adding that it’s not perfect, but that Sophie absolutely did it herself and you can certainly tell what she wrote: S O P H I E.
“I have goosebumps!” she said.
Me, too. And in that moment, I understood just why Ms. X teaches kindergarten, and why she’s willing to put up with all of Sophie’s ball buster BS.
Sophie wrote her name today. I can’t think of a better way to end the first week of kindergarten.