Oh, the glorious last days of August. This year, by some miracle, the school year doesn't start for us until August 31st, with K-12 students returning September 1st (this is unheard of for me - I cannot remember a school year that started with a nine in all my years, except for maybe my freshman year of college). Being in adult education, we have a reprieve of a week, our students returning the day after Labor day, but we'll still be busy.
This is probably one of my favorite times of year. I look forward to the return to school like I do Christmas. New beginnings, new people, new things to do. I've had my fun, my freedom, but now it's time to buckle down and go to work, which means a new kind of fun.
This school year is particularly busy because three out of the four members of our little household will be in school. E. is starting the 2nd grade, something that is a bit of an unknown to us at the moment, as we haven't had the usual letter from the school or her teacher, who remains a mystery to us. And the hubs and I are both going back to school. I'm starting my master's in Adult and Higher Education, taking on two courses this fall. The hubs is (finally) starting his bachelor's degree, going the route of public administration. He's taking his first college course ever this fall, Introduction to Psychology. I cannot fully express my sheer delight in this new endeavor of his! I am immensely proud of him for taking this step, and I can't wait to be study buddies, even if he's not quite as excited about studying as I am.
So as this half of a week left before school starts carries on, I will fill it with last minute cleaning projects (I have a half completed list that I hope to get all the way completed by Monday), the buying and prepping of lunches, and putting together study guides for myself and the hubs. It'll be FUN!! (I keep telling myself this; if I say it enough times, it will be true, right?).
Here's to hoping everything gets done as and when it should, without bloodshed. >:-D (This is meant to be a manic grin.)
Showing posts with label school. Show all posts
Showing posts with label school. Show all posts
Thursday, August 27, 2015
Tuesday, June 2, 2015
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.
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.
Wednesday, December 4, 2013
Things I Learned in Kindergarten
The months before Kindergarten were a struggle for me and my daughter. It's easy to be deceived by her similar appearance to me and penchant for big words and dramatics. It's easy for me to be tricked into thinking, She's just like me. Oh, but she is not. She is so, so different. And it was in the forgetting of that which caused a great deal of strife in that nerve-wracking and tumultuous time before school started.
Before Kindergarten, I would constantly ask myself (or even aloud), "Why is she doing that?" And the behavior I just couldn't make sense of would frequently be framed in a negative light, no matter how I tried to be positive.
Things are different now, after a few months of school, watching her in her classroom as I volunteer, seeing other children, talking to other parents, newbs like me and old parenting veterans, and speaking with her teacher, someone young, enthusiastic, and with a fresh eye on my kiddo that I don't easily have access to.
That stubbornness? Independence. She doesn't need anyone's help, not mine, not yours, not that random kid who thinks he knows it all. That callousness? Well, it's not that she doesn't care, because to see her with her classmates, she does. She helps those in need with gentle reminders and doesn't tattle. But she's not beholden to anyone. She's not here to please and she wants to be happy. She hasn't yet, and I hope she never will, fallen into that horrible female trap of needing to please. She'll be nice, she's going to help the needy, but she'll be damned if she's going to change her life to make you feel better.
We're different, my little girl and I, but we're different in a way to puzzle pieces are. They're differing shapes allow those pieces to snap together to form a connection and a fuller picture. I will help her find her balance, and she'll help me find mine. Raising a child, raising a daughter, is a long journey for any mother, but the more willing I become to see all her differences for the beautiful things that they are, the ever so slightly easier this all becomes.
Because, in the end, opposites attract.
Before Kindergarten, I would constantly ask myself (or even aloud), "Why is she doing that?" And the behavior I just couldn't make sense of would frequently be framed in a negative light, no matter how I tried to be positive.
Things are different now, after a few months of school, watching her in her classroom as I volunteer, seeing other children, talking to other parents, newbs like me and old parenting veterans, and speaking with her teacher, someone young, enthusiastic, and with a fresh eye on my kiddo that I don't easily have access to.
That stubbornness? Independence. She doesn't need anyone's help, not mine, not yours, not that random kid who thinks he knows it all. That callousness? Well, it's not that she doesn't care, because to see her with her classmates, she does. She helps those in need with gentle reminders and doesn't tattle. But she's not beholden to anyone. She's not here to please and she wants to be happy. She hasn't yet, and I hope she never will, fallen into that horrible female trap of needing to please. She'll be nice, she's going to help the needy, but she'll be damned if she's going to change her life to make you feel better.
We're different, my little girl and I, but we're different in a way to puzzle pieces are. They're differing shapes allow those pieces to snap together to form a connection and a fuller picture. I will help her find her balance, and she'll help me find mine. Raising a child, raising a daughter, is a long journey for any mother, but the more willing I become to see all her differences for the beautiful things that they are, the ever so slightly easier this all becomes.
Because, in the end, opposites attract.
Saturday, September 7, 2013
Kindergarten Questions
Okay, so, first of all, here is the required, ADORABLE picture of E. on her first day of Kindergarten:
She's pretty darn cute, right?
School has been okay so far. The first couple of days, while drop off was difficult, had gone really well. E. was excited to go, pleased with her new classroom and friends and teacher. But as our week has gone on, the words, "But the day is so long!" have been heard more than once. Yesterday, as we got ready for school, there was a refusal to get dressed, E. hiding under the covers, unwilling to get out.
"I don't want to go! I want to stay home!"
Part of me very much wanted to say, "Okay!" but, of course, I did not. I coaxed her out with promises to visit the playground after school and a favorite supper that night. We got her to school and she went in without a problem for the first time all week.
I left the school building, torn. I knew she was going to be fine. But, I would then say, what about better than fine? I know I have brought this up before, but it's still eating me up inside. I'm not entirely sure I could provide better than fine, I'm not sure if I should try, because although I am at home now, I'm not entirely sure I will be next year. With things so up in the air, it's hard to make plans, and while I don't know for sure her school is the best place she can be, I know it wouldn't be ideal to be changing things around a lot in just a school year or two. Above all, I know she needs consistency.
I want to provide a childhood for my daughter that speaks to the very best parts of her world, and I don't know if that's happening right now (both at home and at school - I'm not going to lay this all at the feet of the public school system). So, for now, E. goes to school. I try to make a healing rhythm at home. We both make new friends and learn new things. And we wait and see and hope that it will be better than fine.
School has been okay so far. The first couple of days, while drop off was difficult, had gone really well. E. was excited to go, pleased with her new classroom and friends and teacher. But as our week has gone on, the words, "But the day is so long!" have been heard more than once. Yesterday, as we got ready for school, there was a refusal to get dressed, E. hiding under the covers, unwilling to get out.
"I don't want to go! I want to stay home!"
Part of me very much wanted to say, "Okay!" but, of course, I did not. I coaxed her out with promises to visit the playground after school and a favorite supper that night. We got her to school and she went in without a problem for the first time all week.
I left the school building, torn. I knew she was going to be fine. But, I would then say, what about better than fine? I know I have brought this up before, but it's still eating me up inside. I'm not entirely sure I could provide better than fine, I'm not sure if I should try, because although I am at home now, I'm not entirely sure I will be next year. With things so up in the air, it's hard to make plans, and while I don't know for sure her school is the best place she can be, I know it wouldn't be ideal to be changing things around a lot in just a school year or two. Above all, I know she needs consistency.
I want to provide a childhood for my daughter that speaks to the very best parts of her world, and I don't know if that's happening right now (both at home and at school - I'm not going to lay this all at the feet of the public school system). So, for now, E. goes to school. I try to make a healing rhythm at home. We both make new friends and learn new things. And we wait and see and hope that it will be better than fine.
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