Page 15 of Draft Pick
I nod, ready to convince her I’m willing to help my daughter however it takes. “Her mother had a meeting with the school psychologist and teacher last week to discuss her behavior and grades. I hate even saying that when she’s in first grade, but it is what it is. Anyway…” I scratch my head. “I travel for work, so her mom called to relay the message to me. Most of it should be in her files, but throughout the last year, we’ve been doing everything to help Addie’s schoolwork improve. All of her completed evaluations and assessments should have been faxed over. The school seems to think we’ve exhausted all options, and coming here for a medical opinion might be our best bet.”
Dr. Wilde scans the papers in front of her, humming quietly as she connects the dots. “Yes. I’m seeing documentation from her tutoring and after-school resources she participated in, as well as the accommodations the school incorporated into her academic routine to improve her focus. Were these documents also faxed over?”
“On Friday, I believe.”
Dr. Wilde searches the back end of the file. “Aha. Found it.” She spins to face us, her question directed at me. “And do you feel like these accommodations have been helpful?”
“To be honest, I see very little improvement. The tactile accommodations help temporarily, but I’m not sure I see them equating to her long-term success. But again, I’m no doctor.”
For the first time, I don’t feel adequate enough to be the parent sitting here. My schedule is inconsistent, and I hardly know what Addie eats for lunch every day. But I love my daughter, and I believe she’s capable of thriving. Idoknow that.
I glance at Addie, finding her gap-toothed smile turned up at me, and my heart breaks for my little girl. She’s the brightest light in every room, yetthis—this difference she has from other kids—is affecting her ability to do just that.
Be a kid. I want so badly to help her. To see how much she thrives with answers and support.
Adjusting her glasses with a small push, Dr. Wilde tells me with the utmost sincerity, “I understand completely, Mr. Briggs. Since we’re now in the second half of the school year, I was able to review her statewide test from this year to last. Thank you for signing off on your approval, by the way.”
“Of course.”
She continues, “In a perfect world, we would love to seeQueenAdeline’sscores improve with consistent utilization of the given accommodations, but I’m not sure these results are something that I’m comfortable with. I mean this in terms of sending Addie off to second grade without any hesitation that she won’t regress.”
I know what she’s insinuating, and I appreciate her choice to filter her words so Addie doesn’t feel out of place. “I understand. We were hopeful the tutoring would help, but I think it’s more than that.”
A soft smile crests her lips. “I think so, too. Can I ask you something, Queen Adeline?”
“Mhm!” Addie answers.
“When you wake up in the morning, which animal does your brain feel like the most? As fast as a cheetah or as slow as a tortoise?”
I’m beginning to realize Dr. Wilde might just be the next best thing. Maybe theexactthing we need.
Her ability to get on Addie’s level is extraordinary. It’s not often I’m impressed by people, but right now, I could have a radiant five-star review drafted in minutes.
Addie doesn’t hesitate. “A cheetah. It goes so, so fast all day long.”
My stomach sinks. There’s nothing worse than hearing the struggle she feels, knowing there’s nothing I can do to fix it for her. I’m her dad. It’s my job. But handing over the reins to someone educated enough to properly help, feels like maybe I still am.
Dr. Wilde stands and walks toward a cabinet behind her, before reaching inside and pulling out a plastic toy cheetah. She hands it to Addie, lighting up as she inspects it. “You know, a cheetah is the world’s fastest animal. They’re strong, agile, and smart.”
“What’s agile mean?” Addie asks, pronouncing it wrong.
“It means they’re quick to think and adapt to things very quickly. Do you ever feel like that sometimes?”
Addie nods fast. “When Mrs. Sheffield makes me take tests. Tests are really hard, and John makes weird farting noises with his chair. One time, I got in trouble because I yelled at him.”
I chuckle. “Can’t say I’ve ever heard that story.”
“I bet that was really hard to focus on your test with John making noises, huh?”
Addie nods repeatedly. “Yeah, it was.”
Dr. Wilde leans forward, putting her eye level with Addie and telling her calmly, “What if I told you there was this thing called ‘smartie beans’ that helps the cheetah in your brain slow down just a bit? Not stop completely, because we know cheetahs need exercise. But they would help you focus. How does something like that sound?”
“That sounds amazing! Daddy, did you hear Dr. Wilde? I get to take smartie beans to help my cheetah focus.”
“I heard her, Doodle,” I say, pulling her small body into my side and facing Dr. Wilde. “Decisions like these are hard, Doc. Not gonna lie, I’m struggling with doing the right thing. Isthisthe right thing?”
She simply nods. “Totally understandable, and I’d be worried if you weren’t hesitant, especially considering Queen Adeline’s age. But I’ve been doing this for some time now, and I can tell you with full confidence that watching your child begin to succeed will make all of the worries you once had fade away. We would start her on the lowest dose possible, and if, in time, you feel that’s enough, then great. We can stay there. If not, we re-evaluate and increase as necessary. It’s important for this not to be a crutch, Mr. Briggs, but a tool to help set her up for long-term success. There are many studied cases where patients stay on them for a few years and slowly wean off. This doesn’t have to be forever, but the early childhood years are critical, and it’s important we support that growth for her however necessary.”
