The Pearl that Broke Its Shell

Why is it that the outside real world insists on being hard and demanding, while the inside, school-environment insists on being comfortable and protecting?  Elyse, the pearl, ensconced in her shell.
I don't want my child to just be happy.  I want her to work.
The real world won't protect her; the real world won't wait for her to catch up.  In the real world expectations are set too high, never too easy.  You only get back what you put in sometimes.

I want my children to walk away from their school experience feeling like they accomplished something difficult.  I will not accept the bare minimum.  I will not accept a mediocre performance.

And so it has been with Ariel - something difficult.  I'm finding parenting a grade 1 student to be a big leap from last year's SK expectations.  Nightly reading, math tests and weekly words to study for.  Ariel's teacher sends home the expectations that will be assessed beforehand, which is handy. 
And so I read to Ariel and she reads to me.  I test her knowledge, and prepare practice questions for her accordingly.  She's a smart kid (every kid is some kind of smart) who really benefits from one-on-one individualized instruction.  I drilled her before her math test - I pushed her hard; she worked for half an hour or more, each day, the week before the test.  She never asked me for a rest because she was enjoying herself.  There were snacks on hand.  She had my attention (not undivided, but still).  We worked through her learning together.  I was willing to put in the time and effort because I could see the reward:  Ariel enjoyed learning, and wanted to get the answers right.  We were solidifying new concepts, and the magic of her understanding was unfolding before my eyes.  This is the joy of teaching.  She came home with an 'A' on her first math test, a 'B+' on her second.  Her hard work paid off.  I did not expect perfect, but I expected her to review her mistakes and give it her best try.

Note:  this was not easy for Ariel.  She did ask me if she could play with the neighbourhood kids on her way home from school.  I said, "no".  Not until your homework is done.  This is not easy for me either.  But I'm confident in my methods.  The harder she works now, the easier it will be for her later.  I'm helping her develop good work habits that she will carry with her for the rest of her life.  Start as you mean to go on.

Then there's Elyse. 
Over the summer, first thing in the morning the girls worked on their printing skills.  Using the program Handwriting Without Tears, every morning; Ariel practiced her letters, and Elyse worked on pre-printing skills.    I helped Elyse print the letter 'E', for Elyse.  She could tell me every letter of the alphabet.  I never forced this on the girls.  I'm talking a quick 15 minutes here.  They simply accepted the work as part of their routine.

September rolled around.  Elyse is stalling.  She's not happy with the change of routine, the shift in pace.  Where's the sun, the beach, the lazy pool days, mommy and daddy and Penelope?

Fast forward to now.  We have Elyse's Individual Education Plan (IEP) meeting with the school, which went well.  The document with the adapted expectations comes home for us to review and sign.  This document is meant to be used from now until January, but potentially for the whole school year.  Except - I can't sign it.  I won't.

Elyse is a slippery fish.  She's hard to peg down, and likely to squirm away from you if you try to make her work.  I understand the school can't force her to do anything, nor can they report on skills she isn't demonstrating.  The problem though, is, well, it's not a problem, but Elyse is smart!  She's playing them!  At the meeting, her teacher told us her favourite spot to go was the large chill cushion by the books.  Unless prompted, she's happy to just lay there, she told me.  So prompt her!  I say.  Use a big stick if necessary.
When I read through the expectations on her IEP, identify and write the first letter of her name, learn some of the alphabet letters, I balked:
"But she can already do these things!" I complained to Dan.  The school's counter point is well taken - but she's not.
I have the greatest respect for the school, and the school staff.  They are supporting her at maximum capacity, and I know they have her best interests at heart.  They are trying every trick in the book to motivate her, of that I am sure.
There are other considerations.  Elyse is young compared to her fellow SKs, and developmentally behind her peers in many respects.  She is only in her second year of learning French, and all of her instruction is in French.  These points alone might make you sympathize with her, aww, poor Elyse.  Don't let her cuteness fool you.  Don't let her diagnosis deceive you.  All kids need and want to be pushed and worked.  All kids want to be perceived as capable learners.  Elyse is highly capable.

Elyse casually picked out all the letters of the alphabet in English when she was a young three year old.  At home, she regularly points to letters, calling them by their french names.  You're telline me that in over a year's time, she can't learn all of those same letters in French?  No way!!!  I refuse to accept 'good enough' for my child, for my children.

If it takes Elyse and I practising her letters in French every day until she is comfortable enough to say them in class, then so be it.  I'll make it fun, we'll toss bean bag letters into hulla hoops, saying the letters out loud.  I'll do whatever it takes to get her to work.
What I told the school is that I'd rather the expectations written down were too hard, than too easy.  "But she hasn't demonstrated those skills yet..."  Well, neither could Ariel count by 2s, 5s, and 10s, but we worked on it.  Neither could Ariel write the numbers to 60, but we worked on that too, and now she can do it.  If the expectations are something the child can already do, what kind of learning expectation is that?  And if you don't hold the expectation that the child should do it, then they never will.
Elyse, my dear, the gig is up.  No more lounging on cushions.  No more refusing to work.
It's on.  You've met your match.  And I'm going to school the shit out of you (said with motherly love).
The expectations will have to change, and so will you.