Just had Logan's standardized tests done this morning.
BDI-2 : Battelle Developmental Inventory, Second Edition
PLS -5 : Preschool Language Scales, Fifth Edition
His service coordinator and speech therapist from Birth to Three spent an hour doing the tests with him this morning. It's some toy playing, and some identifying, it's me answering questions, it's Logan trying to answer questions, it's observations & it's them filling in bubbles and making notes.
As we predicted, Logan is classified as Globally Delayed and will qualify for the Special Education program.
and the ball is rolling....here we go
Tomorrow he goes to school from 8:30-9:15 to be introduced to the classroom and take part in the first part of a standard day - playtime. From now until he goes for his first full day they will gradually increase his visit time to see how he does.
January 8th he has his final transition meeting with the school and Birth to Three. At that point we will establish his IEP (Individualized Education Program) & his schedule for his school day - therapies etc..
February 1st he starts school...officially.
I think Kevin & I have mixed emotions. We know this is what is best for him but sometimes our lives, Logan's life and the situation as a whole seems a bit surreal. So while we digest the newest chapter of Logans life I leave you with some words from another blog that I check. She has twin girls, one with special needs similar to Logan. This post she wrote awhile ago makes me step back and think about the big picture:
These sisters have shown me that there are much more important things
to life than expectations and goals. One of my daughters has special
needs, and she’s teaching me things I never knew I needed to learn.
The most profound lesson I’ve learned from Isaiah Jane thus far is a
simple one – I cannot fix her. Not because I don’t have the answers, but
because she is not broken. She is perfectly whole. I feel like I exist
to give her all of these tools, as if I can somehow protect her or make
life easier for her. But she doesn’t even know that she’s different. Her
disabilities are not her identity; they are merely a part of the bigger
picture of who she is. She demonstrates beauty and strength and zeal to
everyone she meets, and it goes not unnoticed. I want to be like her
when I grow up, and she’s only eighteen months old.