Light and Momentary

Oops

Last night I put up a post about a conversation with my oldest son. This morning it smacked me in the face that it was inconsistent to say I wanted to protect his privacy at school even as I posted his story on the web. When I wrote the post, I was trying to think through my own role in an awkward exchange and what I needed to do next. Thanks to everybody who responded helpfully overnight.

I think a nutshell question is probably reasonable, though: is there anything useful I can do about really nasty locker-room misogyny, without opening up my son to any flak along the lines of "Dude, I can't believe you talked to your mom about that"? I'm not talking about sensitivity training for junior-high boys. I just want an adult nearby to say, "Hey, watch that language," but I don't have a great feeling about the (female) PE teacher. Is locker-room nastiness inevitable?

In the Mail

Alex is good at math. When he was being homeschooled for second grade, I taught him to solve two equations in two variables. (I'd give him a word problem. He could set it up independently, and then needed a little help isolating one variable. Once that was done, he could solve for both variables on his own.) He has spent most of his math classes this year in the hall -- he would do well enough on the pretests, usually, that his teacher would send him out to work ahead.

So we were surprised when she was unenthusiastic about the spring placement test. He had a chance to test into pre-algebra, but she was not encouraging. No student from his school had ever passed the test. She didn't know what it covered. Maybe she could email the coordinator, she said, or maybe we should call the middle school. She never emailed and the school was similarly unhelpful. Alex took the test in early May, but we didn't know what to expect.

The results came in today's mail. He passed!

Decisions, decisions

Just back from our tour of the parish school. Alex chanted all the way home, "PLEASE don't make me go there. PLEASE don't make me go there." Joe chanted, "PLEASE can I go there? PLEASE can I go there?"

I'm leaning toward Catholic school but still uncertain. They have no gifted program, but the public school gifted program is kind of a joke. (I had that experience myself with gifted programs: too many poorly-thought-out units, dragging on for weeks until something designed to be enriching became something to dread.) There standardized testing is a once-a-year thing, and classroom time is (reportedly) not dedicated to test prep. Standardized tests are given twice yearly in my kids' school, and getting ready for the tests has been the primary focus of their days recently.

There was a mental hurdle for me to overcome in regard to paying tuition for grade school. Why shell out that much money for something you can get for free? But I love the idea of faith integrated with education -- loved seeing the images of the Sacred Heart and the little holy water fonts in every classroom, and the posters with quotes from the Bible next to the posters of the multiplication tables. The classrooms are spacious and full of books. I can see them there.

But Alex does NOT want to go. I could tell that we wouldn't be able to have a productive conversation about it right then, so I just listened. "I shouldn't jump in and argue," I told myself. "I'll just treat the feelings respectfully until the intensity dies down." I said aloud, "So you really feel like public school is the best choice."

In a Faber & Mazlish cartoon, he would have said, "Yeah, that's exactly what I think," or even, "Yes. But I guess we could talk about other possibilities." Instead he said "DUH!"

So much for active listening. I'll keep you posted.

"Important Skills"

I was digging through the mountain of backpack papers last week when I came across a note from the principal exhorting us to provide opportunities for our children to work on important skills. What important skills? you might ask. High-powered math skills? Sophisticated reading skills? Strong people skills?

Nope. The important skill in question is taking multiple-choice tests. She wants us to tell our kids to spend their free time on a website that lets them practice for the next round of standardized tests.

To which my first response was, Are you HIGH? Are you sitting in your office SMOKING CRACK?

My second response was a little more temperate: I get that she's under pressure here. Our kids' performance on those tests is viewed as a statement about her performance as principal, and who doesn't want to perform well?

Have I mentioned lately how much I hate No Child Left Behind? No? My friends, I hate No Child Left Behind.

Only about 60% of what I want my children to learn before adulthood is something that can be measured on a multiple-choice test. I want them to learn math, yes, but I want them to have fun with numbers -- to be excited about the possibilities and to play with different ways of finding answers. You can do that only if you're not under the gun to finish a certain number of problems in a specified amount of time. Of course I want them to be able to read a passage and parse its meaning, both surface and subtext, but more than that I want them to love reading. I want them to dive undaunted into the Iliad, and be both stirred by the courage they see there and a little put off by the blood-drenched details. The great epics don't lend themselves to multiple-choice testing. ("When Dido realized Aeneas was gone, she was (a) sad (b) relieved (c) indifferent (d) wrathful." Inadequate, much?) In the current climate, that means short shrift for the epics. Kids have to be prepared for the multiple-choice tests, you know, because those are "important skills."

If multiple-choice tests had much to do with the rest of life, my husband and I would rule the world. Or at least be in the Imperial Cabinet -- we're both good at standardized tests. But I am thinking about our recent conversation in the bathroom, where we were grouching about the broken shower valve. I opted to turn my shower into a bath. He said, "If you wait a little while [shivering in the halfhearted trickle] it gets better." Fat lot of good those GRE scores are doing us in the face of a real-world problem.

Complex problem-solving (in whatever domain), nuanced critique of difficult ideas, fearless enthusiasm in the face of new material, lifelong intellectual curiosity -- that's what I hope my kids gain from formal education. NCLB erodes the truly important skills in the name of "tough standards." There isn't time for exploration, because they have to learn to fill in the right Scantron bubbles.

GRE scores notwithstanding, I am not Queen of the World or even her Secretary of Education. I am not optimistic about my ability to make changes in federal law. But I am queen of my castle and here is my ukase: my children will not be visiting the test-prep website.

They have football games to play with the neighbor kids. They have books to read, perhaps curled up on the floor by the heating vent and laughing out loud, or perhaps sprawled on the loveseat, chewing a knuckle in anticipation. They have noodling around on the piano to do, and castles to build and stories to write and Lego Star Wars missions to complete. (BTW, do any kids in this country really need more screen time? I fight that battle often enough -- I don't need the principal telling me to give them more computer time.) The current emphasis on standardized tests has sucked enough real learning and fun from their days. They will not be spending their free time drilling. They have more important things to do. 

Borderline Grinchiness from Gladlyville

I went to Target this morning to pick up a few things and it was surprisingly un-crazy. But I heard two women having a conversation that tempted me to burst in uninvited. One said to the other, "How's he fixed for aftershave? Doesn't he need some?" I wanted to say, "Nooooooooo! No one needs aftershave!" I am not being earnest and grim here, not saying that the only true needs are food and shelter so go give your money to Food for the Poor instead of Target. (But do think about Food for the Poor if you are looking for a good charity. They do great work and keep their costs low too.) You could tell me you needed a cell phone or hair gel and I wouldn't bat an eye. But aftershave is not, will never be, a need. I know I am biased here: I haven't worn perfume since high school and I am married to a man who would no sooner wear aftershave than a crinoline. But that is the most vexing aspect of the retailers' Christmas madness, in my view -- the "need" to find something, anything, that someone on your list might "need," in the loosest possible sense of the word. I should stay away from Target on the 21st of December. It brings out my inner Ebenezer.

My other grinchy thought is about the public schools and their multicultural approach to "the winter holidays." Earlier this week one of my friends described her son's holiday concert: two Hanukkah songs, two Kwanzaa songs, two solstice songs, two Christmas songs. My own kids' teachers seem to be taking a similar "equal time" approach, if the worksheets they're bringing home on the days of Kwanzaa are an accurate indicator. This is somewhat mysterious to me. I think it's a great idea to teach kids about other cultures, other celebrations. But I would be surprised if 1% of the families in this town celebrated Kwanzaa or solstice. We do, however, have a large South Asian community -- I've heard it's almost 3% of the population. This means we can get scrumptious idli and dosa here in a town where Italian food means Olive Garden. More importantly, this must also mean that kids in the schools were celebrating Eid al-Adha yesterday...but I have seen no Eid al-Adha worksheets. Families must have been celebrating Diwali last month, but the Pilgrim hats and Mayflower models came home unaccompanied by stories about the Festival of Light.

And that's not all. I understand, of course, that the public schools are not going to teach my kids about Christian belief. But it vexes me that the "some families celebrate a day called Christmas" materials are exclusively about Santa and flying reindeer. Because, news flash: some families celebrate a day called Christmas with no flying reindeer anywhere in the picture. Some families celebrate a day called Christmas because on that day love enfleshed entered the world to be its redemption, and some families find (okay, this member of this family finds) the Christmas = Santa equation to be intensely annoying. Gah, I guess I should just send the kids to Catholic school next year. But I don't see how "some families celebrate the birth of a baby" is so terribly inflammatory in a discussion of culture and belief.

It seems to me, in sum, that the schools are looking for a way to justify a week of indulgence. (Wednesday: indoor field day. Thursday: class parties. Today: morning in the gym, doing the dances they've been learning in PE; afternoon of movies.) They talk about a seemingly random assortment of holidays along with the secular version of Christmas, while they say nothing about what many real families are celebrating in their actual homes. And that makes me say a hearty "Bah, humbug."

Surely Not

Report card day. Alex (my fifth-grader) always does well and I'm never exactly sure how to respond. I don't want him to feel, on the one hand, that I take his efforts for granted; I worry, on the other, about making too much of a fuss. Will he start to feel like I prize the As more than all the other good things about him? I said something along those lines to him after we had talked it over. He said, "I wish you'd make a little more of a fuss."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah. Emmett's dad told him if he got all As he'd get--

[wait for it]

[I can't even believe this is true but Alex swears it's so]

--an iPhone."

Next to which, I suppose, a pat on the back and a brisk "well done" might seem rather minimalist.

Oiled

1. The principal called me and said she agrees with me: kids need to move, she said, and taking away Joe's entire recess was too harsh. She's going to follow up with the lunch monitor.
2. My project director agreed to meet with me this afternoon. I am hoping to get her stamp of approval on my letter and the final version of the questionnaire so I can send them out (finally!) as soon as the Christmas mail rush is over. We shall see.
3. The semester is almost over! One in-class final (Monday), one big stats project (due the following Monday but I need to finish it early because next weekend is busy with family stuff), one take-home final. Lots of work to do, but one way or another it will all get done.

The Wheel Squeaks Reluctantly

This afternoon I dropped off a letter to the principal, complaining about a lunch monitor's discipline strategy. His response to a minor squabble: take away Joe's recess and ignore the--

--oops. Hit publish accidentally instead of saving as a draft. Here's the bullet point version of what was a much longer post in my head:

• If you keep a kindergarten student inside sitting still all day, you will have one squirrelly kid.
• If the goal of your discipline strategy is to encourage better behavior, you shouldn't do something that will set a kid up for further behavior problems later.
• If two kids are involved in a brief tussle (a kid grabbed Joe's shirt and Joe tried to pull away while he held on), it is unjust and counterproductive to take away recess for the kid who responded (while nothing happens to the kid who initiated).
• To someone with Seasonal Affective Disorder, taking away a kid's chance to play in the sun during the dreariest part of the year seems entirely unreasonable.

But:

• I have major baggage about disagreeing with people at the school.
• Last year I had enormous angst about telling Marty's first-grade teacher that we needed to modify a homework assignment because it was making Marty cry every night.
• First-graders shouldn't cry over their homework.
• That's for grad students only.
• And especially not (back to first-graders here) their reading homework, when I think the major goal of first grade should be to foster a love of reading.
• And FOR THE LOVE OF PETE not reading homework written by people who hadn't read the book. For real. Worksheet questions with no answer, clearly cranked out by someone skimming through without paying attention.
• But I still feel a little defensive about suggesting an alternate plan, esp. since the teacher wasn't happy about it. Better for Marty to stick with the program and cry over badly written questions, I guess?
• Maybe sometime I will post about first grade, because that teacher drove me a little nuts. For instance: if you have a left-handed kid in your class who isn't cutting neatly, do you think maybe it is prudent to see if he does better with left-handed scissors before you send home a note saying, "Marty needs to work on his cutting skills!"? For the record, he cuts just fine with left-handed scissors.

And:

• I have been thinking all year about the complicated question of educating kids.
• I'm not thrilled with public school.
• We're thinking about our parish school, but Alex says he doesn't want to go (too much homework, according to the boys in his Webelo den) and he's being pretty noisy about it.
• He doesn't, obviously, get to decide but he knows how to make a decision complicated.
• There's so much that's good about homeschooling.
• Except for the exhausting parts.
• The boys, Alex especially, reminisce fondly about homeschooling.
• But I just don't think I can juggle being ABD and homeschooling without burning myself right out.
• So I don't know what to do, which is why I meant to save this as a draft.
• But it's a safe bet that it would never have left my draft folder.
• Ergo, bullets.

I just invited eight people to come with their children and have cake and coffee. This means I should go make a cake.

ETA: My note to the principal wasn't "How dare they take away recess from my precious angel son!" Joe needed a better reaction to the other kid, and I know the lunch monitor has a tough job. I wrote the letter because this is the second time Joe has lost his entire recess over what seems to me like a minor infraction. This is a strategy that will only make life harder for his teacher in the afternoon: Joe is better at sitting still and being quiet if he has some time to run around outside.

Snow Day

In my dreams	In reality
I react to the news of an early dismissal with delight.  I miss those boys when they're away!	I say noooooooooo when I see the announcement on the district website. I say, It's not even raining! I say, I have statistics homework to finish!
We have a cozy chat about what there was of the school day.	My oldest wants computer time the instant he walks in the door and bursts into unexpected tears when I say we're supposed to have a cozy chat.
I make hot cocoa and we drink it together peacefully.	Four of the five hot cocoa drinkers (me included) manage to spill their cocoa.
Together we finish putting stamps and return address labels on the Christmas letters.	The toddler insists on a turn with the roll of 500 address labels.  He dunks them in his cocoa.  Twice.
Enthusiastically we plan our St. Andrew's Day dinner, a family tradition since our return in 2000 from a two-year sojourn in Scotland.	The boys declare that it ought to be a gift-giving occasion (i.e., gifts given to them, not by them).  The mom contemplates that fine Scottish tradition, Chinese takeout (takeaway, in Edinburgh).
We curl up together on the couch and I read E. Nesbit to them.	They do battle with imaginary dragons until I threaten to send them out in the sleet.
After a delightful afternoon and evening, I tuck them in at bedtime.	If I set the clocks ahead, could I get away with sending them to bed at 5:15?

Indecisive

My two oldest sons are in school for the first time this year, in fourth and first grades, and the transition has gone pretty well.  They find the work easy but not boring, and the social adjustment has been smooth.  But I am annoyed just now.  More to the point, I am BUGged. 

The kids get BUG slips when they are Being Unusually Good.  They can cash in BUG slips for prizes, and this is the source of my annoyance.  On Friday my oldest, Alex, came home and announced that he had collected a bag of candy at morning assembly, followed by four different prizes (he chose four different suckers, which he ate in rapid succession) from one of his teachers. 

So of course I'm glad he's succeeding.  Of course I'm glad the teachers want to encourage success.  But I'm worried about his teeth and I'm wondering if no one at school has heard about the childhood obesity crisis and philosophically I'm way over on the Alfie Kohn side of the spectrum when it comes to thinking about motivation.  (I can't link directly to the article, but you can go to this page and scroll down to the "Parenting Magazines" section to read an article called "The Case Against Gold Stars" if you're so inclined.)

My MIL was here on Friday and she was outraged.  I should write to the principal, she thinks.  I should complain vociferously.  I'm not convinced.  But I'm still bugged.