In My Head

Not Identical ~ Sheri

I pull the car into the drop off circle. Kids are already starting to trickle out the school doors and down the sidewalk toward the street. Eventually, Kaden comes out and scans the area for me. I honk the horn, and he runs up to the car, struggles to pull the door open, and crawls into the back seat. "Hi Mommy!"

"Hi Kaden, how was school?"

He doesn't answer.

"Kaden?" In the rearview mirror I watch him fumble with his backpack and pull out a piece of paper. He rubs his head, gazes out the window, and frowns. He has a note. A teacher note. "Is that for me?"

He nods and offers it to me like he's handing me his own death sentence. Oh boy, here it comes. I take the note from him.

Dear Mrs. Hastings,

I'm very concerned with Kaden. His reading skills are extremely low for first grade. He lacks motivation, is rather reluctant to participate, and seems to have problems concentrating. I need permission to test him for special education services. Please call to set up a conference with me. 673-7250

Sharon Clamp

You've got to be kidding me. It's the first day of school, and Kaden's already been labeled. Special Education. I never thought I'd have a child in SPED. I know that Kaden was on the lower end while Logan was the head of their kindergarten class last year, but how can Logan be so far ahead, and Kaden be so far behind, when I treat them exactly the same? All summer long I read with them every night, just like their kindergarten teacher suggested.

"Mommy?" My rearview mirror catches the reflection of Kaden's big brown eyes.

"Your teacher says you are doing better, but she wants you to get extra help, so you'll be getting tested for a special program." I turn in my seat and give him the biggest smile I can muster. "Won't that be fun?"

Kaden nods, but his lips form a tight line. He sets his eyes out the window. "Do I have to?"

"It'll help," I promise. "Don't you want to get better?"

The door clicks open, and Logan jumps into the car. "Hi Mom!" He has the brightest smile.

"Logan! How was your first day?"

"It was kinda boring. All I did was color all day, and I only got to read one book and it was easy. Then we did math, and my teacher said I was avanced."

I smile at his mispronunciation. At least one of my kids will do well in school.

"Hey, Mom?" Logan says.

"Yes, honey?"

"What does eye-dent-tackle mean?"

What? "Where did you hear that word?"

"My teacher asked if me and Kaden are eye-dent-tackle."

Identical. "It means exactly the same," I say.

"Oh. Then we're not identical," Logan proudly announces. "My hair isn't curly."

"That's right, you're not identical." The thought makes me feel ridiculous for comparing Kaden and Logan. In no way are they remotely the same. Kaden's hair might be black like his father's, but it's curly like mine, and he has my eyes and nose too. Logan is the spitting image of Russ with his gray eyes and straight hair, with one exception: Logan's hair is brown like mine.

It doesn't end with looks either. Logan got his smarts from his father, and his outgoing personality. He inherited a love for books and music from me. On the other hand, Kaden got the short end of the stick. He's stubborn like Russ, wily like me, and burdened with my allergies and asthma.

When I first gave birth to my twins, I assumed they would be like my twin sister and I. We used to get the exact same scores on spelling tests, and we'd finish reading assignments almost in unison. We would both pass those timed math tests on the same day, sometimes within seconds of each other. Our friendly rivalry kept us both at the top of our class. But that's not how it is with my twins.

At least I know now that it's pointless to treat them both the same.