That Didn't Take Long

Ah yes, the sound of crying over homework. The frustration of sitting down to do another unfinished assignment from school. I see you are back. We thought we had bannished you from our home; but you found some small, cobwebby crack and crawled right back in! Damn you.

Two days into school and already a battle (and many tears, and ever so many hearty sobs) over homework. Is this an omen? I pray it is not. Is it a manipulation tactic? Probably on some level. Is this a reaction from the sudden rush into a structured (and I do mean very structured) environment? I can only hope.

Dear gods of education and homework and self worth, we pray that you would grant us peace and the strength to endure. And if you could see your way to a little grace and mercy, we would be ever so grateful. So say we all.

Schools and the Idea of Fairness

I've been thinking a lot about the start of school and what that will mean for our family this year. (We will be going back to the same school with the same teacher, for a number of reasons. I am hopeful, but not convinced there will be great change.) In preparation for that, I've been reading a book called Genius Denied, by Bob and Jan Davidson. Lots of ideas that keep popping into my head while I read, but one of the most remarkable arguments they make is on the subject of "equality in schools."

Having been a teacher myself, in public, charter, and private schools, I know this feeling well. Especially because I worked with the underprivileged. Its a pervasive idea in American education: equality for all students means that each child should strive to be the best human he/she can be and to stay at grade level. We try to teach tolerance, character, and responsibility and these are good things to do, but we often do it to the detriment of teaching academics. And being at grade level is a lofty goal for many of the students I have taught, but when dealing with the gifted, it is a crime to ask them to stay on grade level. Without a specific program for the gifted, it becomes a situation of not allowing them to proceed even if they would like to, partially for the comfort of the student (be like everyone else) and partially for the comfort of the other students (everyone else is just like you).

It's a seductive argument. It makes it easier to teach, seems very inclusive as everyone gets what appears to be equal treatment, and it seems as though no one is really harmed in the process. I plead guilty to having been lured into this arrangement. But I can see how it can be just as harmful to require a gifted child to continue regurgitating math facts when he is capable of moving on to algebra, as it would be to require a student who is not reading at grade level to jump two or three ahead. Those at the bottom of the pile have lots of resources and should. But those at the top have little help and that's a shame. We are wasting their talents, and shamelessly.

I hope to be the advocate for my kid this year, who seems to be on the small end of the bell curve. It's just not the small end that gets the attention. It's my belief that he is no less deserving of having his special needs met as well.

And The Winner Is...

We've been having the boy evaluated for ADD/ADHD and the results are finally in. He has some tendencies, may even be borderline ADD, but as of right now, behavior mod seems to be the best way to handle his needs. 

For me, and for RJH, this was mostly good news. No meds right now means not having to wrestle with the idea of medicating our 7 year old. And, as a former teacher, I understand behavior modification fairly well. The down side is, neither one of us is naturally that regimented. I suppose it's no surprise that we've produced a child who isn't either. So we are stepping into a new plan with some more immediate consequences and rewards. I was feeling pretty good about things. Until yesterday.

It always circles back to this -- the teacher called. Granted, I sent her a "spicy" e-mail. I laid out my feelings about her high expectations and rigidity. I asked for compromise, help for my kid. I knew it was going to be sticky. I also mentioned that no meds were in the future. I think this may have crushed her hopes for an easy year next year. (Hayes is scheduled to be in her class again next year as it is a combined 2nd and 3rd grade class.)

When she called it was evident that she was not going to compromise. Her late policy is her late policy; she can make no long term exceptions. Despite the fact that my child knows the material, he has Fs in 3 of her classes. Again, this wouldn't really bother me, except that she has brought it directly to my son's attention that he should feel ashamed of these grades and strive for more. Really. And of course, an adult told him to feel bad about it, so he obliged. 

I'll save the rest of my rant - believe me, I could go on and on and on - and suffice it to say that I am all done with her. It is taking my every ounce of energy not to yank my kid out of school and be done with this year 3 weeks early. I am certainly not going to subject my child, or myself for that matter, to her ideas of acceptable behavior and personality next year. Oh no. There will be a change. We are free people and not subject to the laws of the Second Grade Society. All Done.

Unschooling

I've been battling with my child's school for the past 5 months. I realize that I am not the average parent, nor is my child the average student. Not by a long shot. He's spacey, and energetic, and smarter than the average bear, and a perfectionist - all rolled up into a lovable and amazing little package. But convention, and a bureaucratic teaching philosophy, don't exactly see him that way.

I am truly at my wits end with conventional school. I'm done. It's not working for my child. And I can't stand to watch what it does to him every evening: the tears, the grind of the work, the hours it takes to cajole an idea from him that he thinks the teacher will accept. And as if that's not enough, we've reached a new low - today he didn't even want to go to school. He's seven. It's simply unacceptable that a kid as bright and as curious as mine is dreading the place where learning is supposed to be happening. 

I want to "unschool" him. It's a philosophy that's been around since the 70s, promoted by John Holt. Truth be told, it is my philosophy of education. It's the philosophy under which I was raised, but as a people-pleasing child, school didn't beat me to death in the process.

I'm ready to jump in and do it, but the other adults in our family have concerns. They are very valid concerns, mind you, and I can be an impulsive person. But I am not sure I can agree with them this time. I feel trapped in a nether-land and hate, hate, hate watching my child loose his enthusiasm for what has been labeled learning. It's just not a benign decision to wait and watch what happens.