Does a school psychologist really know a kid after 45 minutes?

Recently, a survey reported that many three year-olds can't say a word. I'm embarrassed to say that my kid could have been one of them. 

I don't know about you, but my daughter didn't come with a "how to" manual when we brought her home from the hospital. She was the only baby in our neighborhood, and she was the first grandchild in our family. I had no frame of reference for proper child rearing, so I parented on pure gut instincts. It worked, for the most part, but I didn't do a lot of talking. I'm not a talker to begin with. Frankly, it was difficult to converse with someone who didn't talk back. 

However, my daughter and I did a lot of singing. She picked up plenty of words, yet she was a quiet individual like her parents. It would have been easy for a stranger to think that she didn't talk at all. It wasn't until she turned 3 and joined a small preschool class that I realized I failed her. She didn't fully understand the concepts of "how" or "when." 

I was devastated. I was also pregnant. Not only had I failed my firstborn, but I'd undoubtedly mess up the next one.

My consternation grew when the school psychologist called us into her office to report that my daughter's standardized test results weren't quite up to snuff. Never mind the fact that my little girl would tune out scary strangers who pressed her with questions. That little tidbit seemed to be lost on the psychologist who claimed to know my child so well after spending just 45 minutes together. 

Desperate not to ruin my child, I contacted a speech therapist. We visited her every week. As I listened to her interact with my child, I had to admit that I wasn't talking enough at home. The more speech my child heard, the more she spit out. So I began talking, from dawn to dusk. I explained every little detail of every task we tackled. I asked questions, and if my daughter couldn't answer them, I'd offer possibilities and let her pick one. I talked and I talked and I talked until my throat ached and my head throbbed.

The next year, my sweet little girl passed the standardized test with room to spare, but we were still told that she would be "watched." The school psychologist didn't want to see her slip. Her unspoken message was loud and clear: I wasn't a good enough parent, and my kid would bear the scars for life.

It's been ten years since then, and every time I receive the results of my kid's standardized tests, I'm amazed. She is nowhere near the level that the school psychologist predicted she'd go. In fact, she's quite the opposite. It takes every fiber of my being not to march into that psychologist's office and wave those impressive test scores in her face, but I don't. I will wait until my children are out of the school before I confront that administrator. 

In the meantime, I want to assure parents that despite what school administrators may imply, standardized test scores aren't forever. They can improve. Trust your instincts. Seek help if you think your child would benefit from extra learning. While you're at it, remember one thing: you're not a bad parent.

  

This is an original post to Philly Moms. Lynn writes about the lighter side of family life at For Love or Funny.