WE ARE at a test prep program in Flatiron, where Ava is grudgingly taking an entrance exam. Lance, the program director, is good. He guarantees he can get Ava into a good middle school if she works. She is very resistant but between us we are making some progress.
The place is about as fun-oriented as it could be. Lance is a game designer and animator. He is honest and doesn’t talk down to kids.
But Ava is angry. She does not want to be here. Like many artistic people, she hates doing anything that doesn’t interest her. Also she sees the prep school as evidence that her mom and I think she is “retarded” and needs special help. (Ava’s dyslexia and ADHD make school a painful challenge and constantly undermine her confidence and self esteem.)
I’ve explained that plenty of kids get tutored because of NYC’s tough middle school competitiveness. And her mom and I want her to have the same advantage other kids competing for middle school space will have.
So far she isn’t buying it.
She had a tough week while I was away on business. Followed by a euphoric Halloween night with her best friend. And now, this.
Doing the right thing for a kid can be tough. Especially when her anxiety interprets new challenges as painful proof that she is unloved. If she could only see herself through my eyes.
Ava is answering multiple choice math questions but I am the one being tested.
