My Brother’s Teacher— Navigating virtual schooling with learning disabilities

On March 12th, Governor Larry Hogan announced that all Maryland schools were shutting down for two weeks, which most kids took advantage of as a much-needed spring break. But when that shutdown quickly moved from two to six weeks to an indefinite return date and the concept of “Distance Learning” came into play, the “spring break” came to an abrupt end. Our superintendents expected all learning to carry on as normal, but virtually, and for everyone to aptly make those adjustments. After all, they supplied us with the “tools” to succeed, so how hard could it be? As it would turn out, this adjustment was very difficult no matter how advanced a child was, no matter which grade they’re in. But their struggles pale in comparison to what children with learning disabilities are currently going through, what my brother is going through.

My brother was a normal-enough baby; he took his first steps just before his first birthday, he was a champ on a cross-country roadtrip at just 16 months old, and by the time he was two, he was a pro at a CD-ROM game called Animal Genius and could correctly guess each animal shown to him by its sound or fur alone. He loved cars and Elmo and Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood. Physically, he was completely normal, albeit on the short side. Compared to the stereotypical description of a little brother, he was a saint and had no behavioral issues. To me, nothing ever indicated abnormality until he was ready for kindergarten. If it’s because I wasn’t looking for it and the warning signs were there all along, I can’t say. It wasn’t my concern, and without schoolwork, what reason would I have to believe that he had learning disabilities? What I do know is that his school showed immediate concerns about his skills and speech. In kindergarten, his levels can’t even be described as “below average”, because they were off the charts completely. He couldn’t read, write, or perform basic math. He couldn’t hold a conversation. The school went straight to work on him, got him an IEP. What they couldn’t do, what no amount of specialist could do, was figure out exactly why he had these learning disabilities.

For the past three years, he’s made incredible progress in some areas and limited progress in others. Ever since he started school, I’ve taken on the role of tutor to help him in whatever way I can because I have always been close with him and we worked well together. I helped with his homework or to improve on skills that his classmates have already moved on with. And this happened frequently. The fast-pace, single-minded thinking that public school requires for children is something that isn’t effective for him, or any child with learning disabilities. Too often, a child slips between the cracks because they rank as “low average”, which isn’t enough for an IEP. They fall behind and never get the chance to catch up. Being that I was homeschooled, where we could learn at our own pace and customize lessons around each child’s individual needs, I tried to adapt some of the old methods my mom had used to help him keep up during the first two weeks of the shutdown. At first, we did fine; I printed off worksheets from the school website and taught him one-on-one daily. We skipped the questions asking for explanations of how he solved the problems. We made it up to the 9-times tables by the time “Distance Learning” came into play. Four hours in, I’m the one about to burst into tears from frustration — nothing is loading, Zoom keeps glitching out, the work is ten times harder than I remembered it being, and though he meets with a specialist on the daily, they don’t have physical copies of anything to work on.

I’ll never understand the “new” math that I seem to have just barely missed given my age, and how any of it can help. It’s said that this can be easier for kids, but when I pictured myself having to explain it to my brother, I knew it would be disastrous. Sure enough, by the time we’re on step two of what feels like a million, his eyes wander and we have to find a different way. He needs his work explained in as few and simple steps as possible, and said instructions will have to be repeated… repeatedly. Last year, when multiplication came into the mix, we all thought that this would never be something he could grasp. After all, asking 2+2 and 2–2 back to back both elicited a triumphant “Four!”. But there was no way I was going to give up. I wasn’t going to let him guess through the questions and fail just because the standard methods of learning weren’t working for him.

And we tried many, many methods. We tried flashcards. We tried math games. We tried drawing out everything in groups like the school does and using arrays. But he was still confused. Then one night by the time he was already in tears and shutting down in confusion of his math problems, I had a spur-of-the-moment idea for him to just try using his fingers to count like he did with addition. It’s something I was scorned for doing during my brief time in public school, but since we were out of school, the rules no longer applied. The question was 2 times 5. He could understand that he needed to count by twos, but the issue was he didn’t know when to stop counting by twos. Often, he’d either stop at eight or twelve, but rarely at ten. I told him to hold up five fingers and point to each one as he counted by twos. When he pointed to the last finger, I said, the number he just said would be the answer. The realization in his eyes after a few moment’s pause — and his sudden exclamation of “Ten!’’ is something I will never forget. We found a method. Sure, it wasn’t the way the school taught it, and I don’t encourage him to use it every time he multiplies, but it helped him understand the concept. Multiplication wasn’t impossible. Soon, he was slowly but surely working through the timed multiplication tests at school, though he was still behind his peers, and by the end of 2019, he was introduced (slowly) to division. He was adding and subtracting in the double digits with plenty of success, triples with minimal help, and it seemed like nothing could stop my brother’s academic progression this year… until we found ourselves in a global pandemic.

The primary issue is while I would love to sit by his side all day and help him through this confusing world of Distance Learning, I’m a full-time college student myself with a continuously growing pile of assignments as the semester comes to a close. Before Distance Learning, we only had to focus on math worksheets and read a book for thirty minutes a day. Now, we have math and ELA and science and social studies and the music teacher wants him to download some app that I can’t find, and he’s on a strict schedule that leaves little room for deviation. And the kid needs some deviation. Especially when he has reading assignments that are asking him for deeper meanings and to comprehend concepts that I’m not quite sure he can. I have to basically “translate” each reading comprehension question for him to be able to respond, and I won’t lie, it frustrates me. I’m not an expert in any of this, and he needs one. There’s only so much his specialist can do through a webcam, and my brother needs one-on-one assistance on assignments that they aren’t covering, so I’ve had to take on that role.

I don’t worry about him falling terribly behind just yet, but when I think of children who have far more severe learning disabilities, and those who cannot even sit still long enough to meet with their specialists on their iPads, my heart breaks for them. Those children will fall behind, and there’s no telling how long it will take for them to catch up. The same applies to children who do not have internet access, which my county estimates to be up to thirty percent of the school system. Even for those who do, in households with multiple children, there’s no guarantee that there are enough devices for everyone to attend Zoom meetings and complete their homework. It’s a system that is destined to fail. It’s a scary and confusing time for these children and their families as it is, and now they’re met with a stapled workbook instead of a teacher. It’s a difficult time for their teachers too, and I don’t blame them for anything that’s been happening. I know that they wish they had more answers than they can currently give. So really, there’s no one I can blame as no one expected six weeks ago that we’d be in the position we are now.

Before the shutdown, I might spend thirty minutes a day helping my brother with his homework — and most days he didn’t have any at all. I reveled in the quiet of being the only person home and spent my mornings on my own homework and afternoons doing what I love best: writing. Now, my days look much different. Because my parents are essential workers, and I’m home from school, I decided to do my part in helping everyone make the adjustment to Distance Learning. Fortunately, my brother is the only one who needs one-on-one help, but our house has transformed into a school filled with confusing schedules, frustrated kids and way too many technical difficulties to solve— making it impossible for anyone to concentrate or be motivated to do their work for long. It’s like homeschooling, but somehow ten times harder than I remember it, though that could be because we didn’t learn through the backbreaking pace that these schools are requiring…

My brother meets with his homeroom teacher three times a week, unfortunately at the same time that I have Zoom for one of my own classes. There isn’t enough space in the house for us both to occupy an entire room for our meetings. I’ve had him set up in the master bathroom on many an occasion while I take the office. After that meeting, I try to get him to start working on ELA or math for a while before he eventually escapes and runs off to play somewhere. Then, he has a second meeting — this one is five days a week — with his specialist. Oh, and they assign daily work, too. I work with him from about one to three p.m. to get all of his math, ELA, additional specialist assignments, and whatever “encore” (music, P.E., art) assignment is due, and honestly it’s far too much for him. Not only is he on Zoom for over two hours, but then he can spend more than two more working on assignments. Most of his peers are not under the same circumstances. I know this schedule exhausts him and that he misses his friends and the structure of school.

I miss not having to troubleshoot iPad problems so often. I don’t think a day has gone by without some sort of mishap in this Distance Learning, and most recently my brother has been restricted to “view only” on all Google apps, which means he can’t do any of his work and not even the guy from tech can figure out why. We’re relying so heavily on technology right now that even someone quite efficient in computers like me is left baffled, and I’m sure there’s a parent out there who’s already broken down over the complicated methods of editing Google Slides that they’ve been forced to learn overnight. Personally, I’m about ready to give up technology and move to some remote mountain off the grid indefinitely, just so I don’t have to set up another Zoom meeting or edit another Google Doc. I thought I knew how to work these apps, but it turns out that there’s a lot that I don’t know, and that’s the epitome of one of the biggest trials we’ve faced since the start of COVID-19: the unknown. None of us know what we’re doing or what’s to come, and yet life is supposed to go on as it always has—but behind a computer screen. And we’re all expected to adjust accordingly.