Damaged Read Free

head. “Anyway, we heard he died in a motorcycle accident, two years later.”
    â€œAnd when Suzanne dropped out, did she come home?”
    â€œYes, and I was happy to have her. Patrick was born, and Suzanne devoted herself to him. Since she passed, I’m all Patrick has now. I’m his only family.”
    â€œI see.” Mary’s heart went out to them both, but she had to get back on track. “When did you notice his reading problems?”
    â€œSuzanne did, in kindergarten.” Edward ran his fingers over his bald head. “Then after she passed, I would try to get him to read with me, and we’d get books from the library. He didn’t know the words, not even the little ones like ‘the.’ He couldn’t remember them either. But he’s smart.”
    â€œI’m sure he is.” Mary knew dyslexic children had high IQs, but their reading disability thwarted their progress in school. They often had retrieval issues, too, so they forgot names and the like.
    â€œHe does better when there’s pictures, that’s why he likes comic books. He draws a lot, too. He’s very good at art.”
    â€œSo back to the IEP. May I see it?”
    â€œSure.” Edward opened the manila envelope and extracted a wrinkled packet, then slid it across the table.
    â€œBear with me.” Mary skimmed the first section of the IEP, and the first thing she looked at was Present Levels, which told her where a student was in reading, writing, math, and behaviors. Patrick was only on a first-grade level in both reading and math, even though he was in fifth grade. The IEP showed that Patrick had been evaluated in first grade but not since then. Mary looked up. “Is this all you have? There should have been another evaluation. They’re required to reevaluate him every three years.”
    â€œI didn’t know that. I guess they didn’t.”
    Mary turned the page, noting that Patrick had scored higher than average on his IQ tests, but because he couldn’t read, he had scored poorly on his achievement testing, which a district psychologist had administered, and the IRA, the curriculum-based assessment test that the teachers administered. She looked up again. “Is he in a special ed classroom or a regular classroom?”
    â€œRegular.”
    â€œAre they pulling him out for help with his reading?”
    â€œNo, not that I know of.”
    â€œHow about any small-group instruction? Does he get that?’’
    â€œNo, I don’t think so.”
    â€œSo what are they doing for him?”
    â€œNothing that I know of.”
    â€œSo they identified him as eligible for services, but they’re not programming for him or giving him any services.” Mary wished she could say she was surprised, but she wasn’t. “They’re supposed to be giving him interventions, and he can learn to read if they do, I’ve seen it. I’ve seen wonderful progress with dyslexic children.”
    Edward brightened. “What kind of interventions?”
    â€œA dyslexic child needs to be drilled every day for his brain to connect sound and symbol, then language. There are many great research-based programs, and they work.”
    â€œHe hates school, more and more.”
    Mary had seen this before, with dyslexic children. Early on, they might use pictures to make it look like they were reading, but by fourth grade, when pictures were gone and the words took over, the fact that they couldn’t read became more evident. They couldn’t read aloud and avoided group projects. The axiom was that children learn to read, then read to learn, but that was a heartbreak for dyslexics.
    â€œPatrick gets nervous, and when he gets really nervous, lately, he throws up. He did it in school a couple times, already this year. They sent a note home, then they called me. The teachers don’t want to deal with it anymore. But it’s not his fault,