School

When I was about eleven years old I watched a documentary on PBS with my parents. It was about asteroids and the possibility of one hitting the earth, causing unparalleled destruction and death. I didn't sleep for days and was totally unable to verbalize my fears. I am sure my parents had no idea the effect the show had on me, otherwise I'm pretty sure they would have removed all screens from our house in order to prevent it from happening again. But they didn't know, and so what has turned into a life long love/hate relationship with indulging in anxiety inducing information has continued with me into adulthood. Except now it's not asteroids (or super volcanoes (thanks for that one, Mr. Wells, 10th grade geography teacher) or black holes or nuclear winters or disease pandemics). Instead, it's school.

If you're friends with me on Facebook, then no doubt you've seen one of the countless early childhood related articles I've posted, most likely about the push for earlier and earlier reading. I've become a bit obsessed with this for a variety of reasons - one, I have two young children, and two, I work with adults who hate reading, and I often feel that there is a pretty compelling reason why adults hate to read, and it usually stems from their own early education. I'm also very much keyed into the subject specifically because of my daughter, E. I'm sure I've mentioned before that she is very open about her dislike of school. This year, by far, has been much, much easier than last year. Last year, all year, nearly every day, there were tears and begging to stay home. This year is a huge improvement, but nary a day goes by where I don't hear, "Do I have to go?" and when she hears, "Yes, you do," I then get, "But I hate school."

Now, let's make a few things clear: E. has a fabulous teacher. She's fun, engaging, and seriously gives a damn. I love her, and, more importantly, E. loves her. Second, E. is good at school, both socially and academically. There are academic subjects she loves (like reading and writing) and she does well in all, and she has a tight little group of friends who she adores playing with. She doesn't get in trouble and sort of just fits the mold of the kind of kid who does well in the typical school environment.

So, all these things listed above are not things I'm worried about. She has a good teacher, is doing well socially and academically, and isn't a more "spirited" child than usual. What worries me is that, despite having all this going for her, she still hates school. Her reasoning is, she says, is that she's bored. And no, not academically bored (and she's not - she is, all things considered, an average student, falling right where she's supposed to), at least not in the traditional sense, but bored because she wants to play, because she wants more time with her friends, because she wants to engage in what she likes.

As I consider this, part of me says, "Well, she can't play and be with her friends all the time, because, you know, life." But then another (angry and loud) part of me says, "What the hell, she's seven, of course she can play and be with her friends all the time!" And then the third part of me says, "Well, perhaps there's a little ground?" And maybe there is? But what?

I don't feel like the school situation is going to improve. Many I've spoken to about this has half-heartedly shrugged and said, "Maybe it will be better next year?" but they already know the truth -  school doesn't get better as we get older. I mean, there are exceptions, but did you ever say to yourself, "Oh, man, seventh grade is waaaaay better than third!" Um, no. I thought not.

All this brings on a wave of anxiety and I feel paralyzed by our lack of choices. I feel sad and angry because I'm unsure of what to do that will help. And I feel guilty because I feel like I'm being too hard on our education system and the good teachers involved. And I can't seem to escape the information. All while under the guise of being "well informed" I indulge in those anxiety inducing articles about children's needs for more time outside, less standardized testing, and fewer outside pressures. It's as though I'm back in front of that PBS documentary and I can't look away or leave the room, even though I'm horribly disturbed. I can't look away now, either, though I fully realize that the damage I imagine that's being incurred is not nearly as catastrophic.

So, what's a mom to do? For now, I tell myself I'll make life at home a sanctuary, pleasant, peaceful, and unstructured. I'll continue to talk positively at school, but not pass judgement when she says she hates it. I'll try to stay tuned in to what's happening at school, acknowledging that she does do well when she's there, that there are no signs of this dislike that she expresses to me. I'll do all this and hope that over time she does feel better about school...or that we find some other way.