Learning disability: Maybe or maybe not

This week “an official evaluator” informed me that my daughter Eva could have a learning disability related to her auditory processes and possibly including language.

She then added that perhaps Eva doesn't have a learning disability.

Maybe she's too young and we need more tests to figure out what's going on. Or maybe there's something there.

Then again, there's the possibility that Eva's timing is simply different than other children.

The information was as clear to understand as the one presented in the health care bill but Eva loved the attention and shined with her lovely personality.

I sat on a tiny school chair in the same room as my sweet Eva during the two hour evaluation. Aside from the room being as hot as a sauna, Eva getting bored after 6 minutes of the test, the instructor was nice and friendly, and I only had my ego to deal with.

Each time my daughter got the answer wrong, a loud voice protested with the same vehemence and irrationality that South Carolina Rep. Joe Wilson, R-S.C., displayed during President Obama's health care speech.

“You lie, this is a stupid test!”

“What kind of questions are those? I mean, I don't even know what these obscure animals are called.”

When the test was over, Eva got a sticker and I got a nod of approval for not having interrupted the evaluation.

As soon as I got home, I did the most logical thing a mature and capable mother of five would do. I called my mom and interrupted her back-to-back sessions with patients.

I know that she's a psychologist and all, but my problems should come before others' neurosis and obsessions, even if they pay her for listening. After all, I'm her daughter.

My mom didn't agree with my take on her patients, and told me to relax and call her back later.

I had some time to think about Eva while my mom dealt with her other children at work.

I sat on the couch scarfing down nachos and in between bites, I knew that we were going to be OK no matter what. I think my Ego rebelled because I wanted to help my daughter not sit on the sidelines, even though I knew the test was important.

I'll get my chance to be proactive when it comes to our plan and support system. Heck if they suggest horse therapy and open spaces I'm taking her to Montana once a week.

She'll be fine, whether she's a late bloomer, has a learning disability or is a mis-understood genius.

Anita Tedaldi is a freelance writer, mother of five and wife of an Air Force pilot. Contact her at: anita@anitaovolina.com