For my dyslexic daughter, the primary grade levels brought new challenges that gnawed away at my peace of mind. By this point in her academic life as home schoolers, we were deep into all the recommended curriculum and pushing through each suggested scope and sequence, or at least trying to. My questions regarding Katy’s academic performance suddenly took a nosedive when I began doubting my own adequacy. What am I doing wrong? She is so clever, so intelligent and seemed to be progressing in her skills yet, at least once a week she had what she labeled as “pajama days”. I’m referring to those days when Katy could not recall information that I thought she was grasping. Information I had possibly even taught the previous day, but on the current day she had seemingly no recollection. Katy would say, “Mom, I think my brain is still in its pajamas.” In disbelief, I was left with no other choice but to press the imaginary rewind button and teach that material to her again.
Recently, Katy, now an adult, shared with me some of her reflections regarding the days that brought our lessons to a screeching halt. She shared, “For me it was really hard to disappoint you. I knew we had covered the concept, but for the life of me I just couldn’t remember. When I said my brain was having a “pajama day,” it was my attempt to keep things light while I kept trying to remember. However, sitting at the kitchen table trying to do long division and just having no recall of the steps, then looking at you looking so defeated made it harder on me. I tried to give my brain time to find it, but the door to that information was shut. It was blocked by something more memorable that kept me from going back to yesterday’s lesson. I specifically remember the concepts of long division and multiplication just took constant repetition in order to retain and recall them. When it felt too stressful, it was if my brain blocked them out as a protective measure and chose something more stimulating to think about. It was actually like that area of my brain had to rest. It had simply gone to sleep and just would not wake up. Again, I tried to keep it light and hopeful for your sake by naming it something fun-sounding, so I wouldn’t be such a disappointment to you. Just trying to leave a bit of hope that we would get a foot in that door tomorrow and things would be better again. And, you know, some days it was better, but some days the lights would stay off and the black-out curtains drawn, which we all know is the perfect scenario for sleeping.” With that look of retrospect in her eyes she said, “Seriously though, Mom, it seemed the harder I tried, the less likely I was to access the desired information in my brain. The increased anxiety my struggle caused you must have made it so painful for you.” As Katy spoke, I listened, feeling so loved because of her care for me and my emotional wellbeing. She could have responded defensively. No one would blame her if she had.
I can testify that her “pajama days” were exactly as she described. I remember like it was yesterday, a certain instance when I had to simply walk away and get some air. As I paced our long driveway, I dialed my husband’s cell. All I could do was let the tears of frustration flow since no words would form in my mouth.
“Susan, what is it? What has happened? I’m on my way home right now!” he interjected.
“Honey!” I sputtered, “Katy doesn’t remember long division.”
“Wait, seriously?” Obviously relieved he paused and slowly questioned, “That’s it? That’s what you’re upset about? Thank God! I thought something terrible must have happened.”
We laugh about it now, but in that moment the pressure weighing on me was more than I could carry. Days like that were the very days I wish I could revisit. I’d wrap my arms around that burdened mom, give her a hug and reassure her that progress was happening even on dark days when it seemed like it wasn’t. Sure, it may not be measurable on paper on those days, but the fact that she was communicating with me and learning more about how to advocate for herself would bring huge rewards down the road. Her brain would soon enough process the new information and be able to apply it to her lessons. Until then, I’d lean into this opportunity to let her know beyond a doubt that I am and will always be her biggest fan who believes in her and loves her unconditionally. So, if you’re reading this and you’re that mom, I’m here to tell you to rest assured. Progress is happening even on those confusing, overcast days. Focus all your passion to protect your child’s future academic and emotional development, while remembering that his or her struggle to master long division is not a negative reflection on your worth as a parent. Take a moment to get a deep breath and share some high fives. And, from my heart to yours, consider yourself hugged.
