On Five for Feminism, as StealthBadger tagged me, but I lost it.  I will have to recreate tonight and tomorrow....

I have come to the conclusion that Older Son, now recovered from pneumonia, weekly injections of salmonella thanks to my outmoded loyalty to Peter Pan, and strep throat, more than likely has some form of dyslexia.  His reading is functional, though significantly below grade level, and the concomitance of other symptoms has had me preoccupied with devouring whatever material I can find on dyslexia, special education, SLDs, IEPs, IDEA, and getting him the help he needs to perform to the level of his substantially higher cognitive ability - all despite the school's lackadaisical attitude regarding his specific troubles.

I'm sorry for the absence, dear reader(s), but I have been entirely consumed, and dejected, and frustrated and - dearest Maude - overwhelmed by this completely unexpected, totally unfamiliar landscape.  My boy, my beautiful, sensitive, kind and thoughtful boy.  The pipes call and yet I do not know the language of response.  He pipes; I drum.  And nothing in my history teaches me the language of birds.

Thanks to the Badger for bringing me out of hibernation.  Readers will probably see much more on the politics of education, as it has become more visceral of late.  :)