SORRY DOESN’T GIVE TIME BACK

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SORRY DOESN’T GIVE TIME BACK

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There is nothing worse than looking into your child’s eyes and realizing they’ve been struggling—and somehow, you missed it. I know that look. And years later, I still carry the guilt.I read Nikole Hannah-Jones’s devastating piece in The New York Times, “In Fighting for Every Black Child, Did I Betray My Own?”That part—I could feel her daughter looking at her. “Did you know…when you decided to put me here?”The question hit me straight in the heart and took me back a number of years to my own guilt bomb.Flashback: 2023My dearest darling daughter was in her senior year of high school, and she was flailing.I can remember her soft brown eyes glancing up at me, filled with despair, like she had just realized her mother was human and not a superhero. In those small irises were water droplets and the look of failure.Seeing that in your child’s eyes is worse than a nightmare.My daughter had been homeschooled from the very beginning, and I can still remember clicking through the web searching for school programs, drilling through curricula—from IXL to Abeka—constructing strengths-and-weaknesses charts, researching resources, all nine yards, trying to choose a program that aligned with our family values and had the flexibility to accommodate an active-duty military man and a scientist-type, consulting, writer mom.Homeschooling fit the demands and worked until about third grade, when I realized Georgia’s limited homeschooling oversight could allow my child to miss key testing and other things. We decided to switch her to public school.We lucked out and found a hybrid county public school, Connections Academy. They had everything—or at least promise of everything. High praise from teachers and students, a solid curriculum, and the majority of the classes would still be taught in an online atmosphere . My daughter could continue to be at home or travel with me while attending school.I believed deeply in flexible, in-depth education. I still do. I believe in investing in my child’s education, so when there were weaknesses and I couldn’t help, I found tutors, sought out additional summer programs like Kumon, and did whatever was required to make sure my baby learned and enjoyed learning.From third through eleventh grade, my daughter got A’s and B’s.I thought she was fine.She wasn’t.In her senior year, my daughter cracked under the pressure. She had a pile of unfinished assignments, grades dipping toward D’s and F’s because of incompletes, and she started talking about not wanting to go to college. Then she admitted she had trouble reading and keeping up and that, when stressed, numbers floated.I was in shock.I reached out to the school for help. It took a while for the emails to return from the void, but there was no real help. Mandated county testing for this type of situation wasn’t a priority for them. Perhaps they, too, were shocked that an A-B student could have such problems. It soon became obvious that this excellent school didn’t have the resources or desire to be part of the solution.My husband and I had to save her on our own.We worked with our doctors to get her diagnosed.I was stunned by the diagnosis. My daughter had a learning disability that had gone undiagnosed for years.I’m not going to get too deeply into her private medical information. But some of its characteristics look like ADHD. It definitely bears anxious fruit, and it can affect her ability to perform certain mathematical processes. She required accommodations and a learning plan. Hubby and I had to implement them to get my daughter back to wanting to learn.Back to the PresentI read Hannah-Jones’s piece, and my heart broke for her and her daughter.A mother’s guilt knows no end.Something inside crumbles, ripping at our insides, when our child is in agony—or worse, when they look up with failure written in their eyes and they see it written in ours.How did we let this happen?These kids are right to put some of the blame on us. We are the busy, opinionated generation with all these high moral principles, but sometimes lacking the time to invest, dissect, and implement.My daughter is now thriving and enjoying her college experience, but part of me still bears this grief.How did I not see it?How many years of suffering happened because I missed the problem?Then guilt joins in:How could I have spent this much time thinking about my child’s education and not known?How could I not recognize that she was struggling? Sorry doesn’t cut it. We can’t give time back.I’ve learned that looks deceive. I had interpreted working around the clock as passion. You simply do that when you love learning.Maybe that belief kept me blind.Achievement can disguise struggle.You can love your child ferociously. You can research. You can advocate. You can pay attention. You can invest time and money. You can believe you are doing everything you’re supposed to do for them and the next generation—and still ...

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