Third grade is no joke. It’s the real deal, where the rubber meets the road and lessons start to get tough. Third grade means multiplication tables and cursive writing, and for Reeves, it has meant the dreaded Reader’s Notebook.
In the simplest terms, Reader’s Notebook requires Reeves to read a few chapters in a book and then write a full page entry about what he read.
What we figured out early on was that Reeves could tell us every single thing that happened in the story. He could make predictions and connections and all the other English-y things teachers look for, but getting all that down on paper was a completely different story. When he saw that blank sheet of paper staring up at him, he froze. It was paralyzing for him to think he had to fill it up.
A counselor taught us a strategy to help Reeves. She suggested he use a blank sheet of typing paper to cover up everything but the first line of the notebook paper. Once he’s written on that first line, he moves the typing paper down so he can see the second line and fills it up. Reeves continues this revealing process line by line until he has, indeed, written his entry on the entire sheet of paper.
This new method works like a charm. Now that Reeves only has one little space to focus on instead of a whole sheet of paper, his anxiety disappears. He knows he can handle one line at a time.
Lately, I find myself thinking of this strategy a lot because I know exactly what Reeves has been feeling.
Three years ago, Brooks was diagnosed with Apraxia of Speech, and even though I still can’t tell you exactly what it is, I can tell you he struggles with communication, and that struggle often leads to frustration and aggression because he knows exactly what he’s trying to say, but he has trouble getting the words out.
The other thing I know about Apraxia is that there’s no set timeline for treatment. Some kids work through their speech difficulties in elementary school. Others overcome them in middle school. And still others deal with them their entire lives.
Not having an end in sight is terrifying.
When I look too far ahead, I feel just like Reeves does when he stares at a blank sheet of paper. It just seems so vast, and I don’t have any idea how the story is going to go.
I start filling in that blank page of Brooks’ future with all sorts of worries—Will he need to go to a special school? Will he go to college? Hold down a job? Get married? I mean, you name it, I’ve worried about it.
It’s overwhelming and daunting to have so many unknowns.
I’ve worked really hard since January to change my focus, to use my own cover sheet to zero-in on the week ahead and not think about years from now. I remind myself to celebrate the growth we see at therapy each session. I remember to be thankful for the tremendous therapists we have worked with. I try to take joy in the crazy words Brooks actually can say, like, oddly enough, the name of every dinosaur that ever roamed the earth.
Does it always work? Nope—absolutely not. But I’m giving myself grace and focusing on progress over perfection for myself and for Brooks. What I have to remember is today is doable. One day at a time. One word at a time. One prayer at a time.
I don’t know what challenge you’re facing, friend. It could be related to your work, your health, your relationships, or your children. But I do know that God doesn’t want us to think too far ahead. He wants us to trust that He will provide what we need for today and that it will be enough.
The Message version of Matthew 6:34 says, “Give your entire attention to what God is doing right now, and don’t get worked up about what may or may not happen tomorrow. God will help you deal with whatever hard things come up when the time comes.”
It’s not easy by any means, but when life gets tough, let’s try to take it line by line, remembering that God is the author of our stories, and He has promised to make them good.
