Education Uncensored

I spoke about my son’s behavior at school in terms of his fear of the repercussions that he would face from me and/or his father for getting in trouble at school.  In case you missed that horror, I talk a lot  NEWS! FLASH! Right?

But, I never got in trouble at school for talking or misbehaving.  And my reason was that I simply did what I was suppose to do and possibly the fear of what my father who was a teacher might do if I was constantly being reprimanded at school. 

And, I also mentioned that I have no clue why own son isn’t afraid of what his father and I might do if he continues to misbehave but hopefully, this last go ’round we made a mark.  I was even a bit concerned we might have been too tough considering the disrupting of his schedule to go to Disney and the like.

Either way, my little yes ma’am, no ma’am, smiley face cherub has been in full effect for the last 7 school days and hopefully, just by some stroke of luck, he got it. 

I know that many parents have much bigger issues with their children, their learning, their behavior even.  But, for us, this is a big deal.  It isn’t necessarily that he is getting in trouble for talking, it’s the general idea that he is bulking authority by not following the rules and conforming.

And now, just as I think we might be on the road to accomplishing that task, I’m faced with a odd thought.  Do I really want my kid to be a conformist?

Bah, does this parenting gig ever get any easier?

I happen to bed married to the single most intelligent man I have ever met.  Which should make me the most intelligent woman but whatever.  anyway, My point is this when we started looking at house plans, I was clueless about all the lines and squares and barks here and there.

But, my sweet husband knew exactly what he was looking at, or at least he tried to make me think that anyway.  One of the best parts of the plans we looked at though was houses that used a lot of pocket door systems.  To me, it just makes sense that if the door slides inside the wall, the amount of room that can be saved is enormous.

I am not making any promises that I have recovered from my desire to just squirm around and complain.  Actually, I’m probably a long way from it.  This post references the post entitled When To Say When and About that Bitter Homework Feeling I Have  If you haven’t read those yet, please go do so before you unleash your fury on me.

But, let me say this, when I ask how old a child should be when they are turned loose to do their own homework, on their own schedule, I was dead serious.

Because, for me, it was like……..always.  I never remember a time when it was something my parents concerned themselves with…it was my job to go to school, my job to do my work, my job to do what the teacher said, and my job to do my own homework. 

So why now is it my job to sit with my first grader while he does his?

Some thought that my point was kind of silly.  Some said high school.  Others said college.  Some folks acted as if I was a mean and ridiculous woman for thinking that I wasn’t responsible for helping the kid with his homework.  If that’s the case, what does that say about my own parents.

I made the statement on twitter that I feel that part of the problem with children feeling as if they should have/deserve to have/need someone with them during their every homework moment is a habit that is taught early.

And the semi-onslaught began.  And, if you are one of those who think that I’m terribly confused.  Read this post on Family Homework Answers  There is quite a bit of opinion from many others who know as much or more than you and I and have walked the walked, talked the talk and do know how to handle the situations just as we do or do not. 

The fact is, I believe this to be a fundamental truth…almost like the Constitution…

My biggest problem with kindergarten homework is that there is no way children can do it on their own. In fact, teachers assign the homework for students and parents, and this parental involvement is expected to continue for the entire school year.

This stuff that my kindergartener brings home REQUIRES that I sit with him because he is reading and doing Dibels prep sheets. He can’t know if he misses a letter if someone isn’t sitting with him at least listening.

Then, he gets to first grade and he can do it all but he is accustomed to me sitting there and the next thing you know he is 15 and I’m still sitting at the table with him. bahahahahhaa

Go on, give it a read. 

You see, none of this has anything to do with my son getting a sad face and then getting written up.  That bothers me on another level and that’s not one that has anything to do with his teacher at all.  That poor woman has gone far and above what any first grade teacher with 12 boys and 7 girls should.  She has given him every opportunity to keep his mouth shut and do his class work.

He deserved to be written up and he deserved to be punished for it.  And, he was….trust me, he was…….

Here’s more of my own thoughts about this ordeal though, and it rings true more and more every day

Some children willingly do homework, but for those that do not, kindergarten homework starts that whole parent-child homework battle that will now continue for another 12 years. Thanks a lot.

Then, the statement I made regarding the fact that I had a foster child that lived with me that was 15 and  expected someone to sit with her for hours on end while she “did” her homework, was fundamentally true too.  The reality was, she had someone’s undivided attention during that time.  So, yes, foster children are different.  But, at the same time, this child wanted someone’s undivided attention and guess what, she learned early on that if she either had someone sit with her while she did it or she didn’t do it and failed, then people would give her that attention just to “help” her along.

I wouldn’t do it.  As a matter of fact, I refused.  I was 25, teaching school.  She was 15, in 7th grade for the 3rd time.  She lost her mother that year and it was a difficult year for her.  But guess what, when she came to live with me on report card day, she has 3 D’s, 2 C’s and an F.  The next grading period, she had all A’s and B’s.  She lived with me for 18 months.

I heard folks later talking about her being in the Beta Club, going to Beta Club conventions.  So see, I’m not as warped as folks may think.  My kid doesn’t need a mountain of homework to get my undivided attention.

And, let’s just say that he does have problems focusing.  Which he may, who knows, I’d have problems focusing too if I was 7 and had been in school for 8 hours and had to sit down again when I got home and do another 30 minutes, 45 minutes, or more of homework. 

I have but one thing to say.  When I asked When To Say When I wasn’t just being some silly, uneducated, agitated parent. 

Agitated?  Yea, I’m giving you that one because I was that.  But silly and uneducated I am not.  And disgusted with my son’s lack of responsibility is even bigger. 

Let me tell you this one last thing, and then maybe I can let this rest until I get all agitated and upset again.

When I was in the third grade my mom remarried.  I had to transfer to another school.  Away from the family that I had always known as sitters, from the only people I had ever spent much time with other than my parents. 

And, my mother had to leave for work early.  As a matter of fact, she left shortly after 6.  I was on my own, with an alarm clock and a bus to catch.  I do think she laid my clothes out for another year or so, but it was my place to get out of bed when the clock alarmed, get breakfast (they didn’t have it at school back it the stone age), brush my teeth, do something with my mop of hair, get dressed and be waiting on the bus shortly before 7 AM.

You know how many times I missed the bus over the course of the next 6 years.  NEVER!  Not once.  If I had missed the bus, I had no way to school.  If I didn’t go to school, then I didn’t fulfill my job for that day. 

What would have been my punishment?  I don’t know and I didn’t want to know.  So now, try to convince me that I’m expecting too much for a first grader to get up when I wake him up, put on the clothes I lay out for him, brush his teeth because I tell him to, put his shoes on, get his coat and his backpack and get in the car.  All on my command. 

He packs his bag at night.  If he doesn’t, am I being ridiculous to say “too bad, so sad, you should have done your job”.  Your job….to pack your backpack the night before, that’s it, that’s his entire job.  His job should include behaving at school but right now he hasn’t figure out that this particular item is on his job description.   And he doesn’t think that his homework is his job.  How can he? 

He needs me to help him do it.  How can it be his job? 

And, with that, I’m stepping off my proverbial soapbox for another day or two. 

Maybe!

Yes, yes, it’s me again, same topic, same feelings, same questions.  I started to answer those of you who were kind enough to comment and those who tweeted with me and discussed this in a forum.  Then, I decided to just write another post.  You know, because apparently that’s what I do best.

When I wrote the post the other day, When to Say When, I was experiencing some moments of agitation.

Agitation?  Why?

Believe it or not, some of the agitation was within myself.  I had simultaneously crashed our only good automobile and eat 2 dozen donuts in one day.  My nerves were shot not to mention who knows what my sugar levels were.

That was on Wednesday.

On Thursday, my first grader brought home his folder, clad with yet another sad face.  Last week’s discipline sheet looked more like the rap sheet for a convicted criminal somewhere.

And, on Friday, my husband picked him up at school and sent me a text that said, “Write up!”

Great!

Now, what in the world could the kid have done?  He was talking.  Out of his seat.  Playing while she was trying to teach.  Talking some more.

I sent a note that said “If you have problems with him today, call me”.  But she didn’t.  Instead, she sent him to the office and he was written up.

Add a little insult to injury, when he sat down in the car with my husband, he looked at him and said, “W-r-i-t-e-u-p!”  As if he was proud of it!

ARGH is all I can say.

And, he was punished.  He was severely punished.  I knew the time was coming when he realized that he could make really good grades and not actually do the work in class or the homework for that matter.

I was kind of hoping he wouldn’t realize that til he was …say..in middle school?

I was afraid of getting in trouble at school.  I honestly do not know what the punishment would have been, and I didn’t want to know.  And, I never found out.  I did my homework because that’s what I was suppose to do.  I kept my mouth shut in class because that is what I was suppose to do.  I didn’t play around, talk when the teacher was talking and I did my class work.  Why?

Because that was my job.

So, why does my son not understand that his job is to go to school, do his class work, keep his mouth shut, come home, play, have dinner, do his homework, take a bath and go to bed.

I got it.  I am not extraordinarily smart.  But I knew what I was suppose to do.  So why does my kid not get it?

I did my own homework on my own time without being asked.  Because that’s what I was suppose to do.  That was my job.

My mom made a statement a couple of years ago which at the time I thought was completely ridiculous.  But, as we’ve worked our way through kindergarten (notice I say we) and now through first grade (again, we, not just he), I have figured out that what she said was very prolific.

She said, “if your children do not approach school the way you did, you will not be able to handle it”

UH?

They are my kids.  I can handle whatever they can dish out.  I love them.  Whatever happens just happens and I still love them.  So why couldn’t I handle it.

Guess what?

He doesn’t approach school like I did.  For that matter, school doesn’t approach him like school approached me 30 years ago.  And I don’t like it.

I might not even be able to handle it.  As a matter of fact….I hate it.

I hate it ya’ll.  All jokes aside.  All agitation and blood sugar aside.  I hate that he gets in the car each day knowing that the question is “did you get a smiley face?” and “how much homework do you have?”

But, he can’t act like a hoodlum at school.  I could actually just say “we are not doing this homework, he knows how to spell these words, he knows theses site words and I am not wasting his precious childhood doing this homework.

But I won’t always be able to do that.  Then what?

This has managed to grow in length way further than I had planned.  I might visit the subject again.  Maybe tomorrow.  Maybe in a few minutes.

I do have one more pressing issue about homework that I want to hash out, with you, with the Internets, with myself.

I hate it.  By all rights, I hate it!

When we build our first home, we were DINKS (dual income no kids) and we just basically did whatever we wanted and we went small.  As we moved on to building a home after the birth of our second child, we put more thought into what the little cherub might want.  Now, we have a master of all things door related.

More than once I’ve seen him with a screw driver mocking his father as he attempts to adjust the door hinge to keep the doors from opening or closing when we don’t actually want them to.

And, then the second little cherub came along and it was time to do it all over again.  This time, the kid doesn’t care one iota.  If you can color it, throw play doh on it, use it to smear spaghetti on, the kid is simply not interested.

But, he does like having the big wide open spaces that we have an maybe one day we will get another house, hopefully one that’s already built before we have to start figuring out how to please the second born because he is way to opinionated.

I know that I’ve beat this horse quite a few times around here and today I’m going to beat it from the other side.

Homework?

When do you quit prodding the child, pushing the kid, cradling him and helping him with his homework?

When do you say “you’re on your own kid!”

Is first grade too young?

Is seven too young?

I need help here…what do you think?

I do just that over on Type A Mom and I’d love it if you’d skoot on over there and lend a comment or two….

Reward or Punishment for Report Cards

“But, as I said, he never pushed me to do more than what he thought I was capable of doing. I graduated second in my class, second in an extremely academically focused school, which was so different than my first eight years. And, I say that with a great deal of pride”

So, let’s hear it after you read the whole thing.  Please!

Trust me, I know it isn’t fair to compare the first born to the second.  However, as the notice came home today regarding kindergarten registration, my 5-year-old reminded me of my fears.

Just some comparative bullets:

• first born never meets a stranger, second born, a bit more reserved
• first born wants his name on his backpack, on his clothes, on his supplies, second born said no way did he want any of that messing up his “stuff”
• first born couldn’t care less which teacher he gets each year, just tell him she is his teacher and he is good to go, the second born has already declared that he isn’t going if he can’t have the same teacher next year that the first born had (lovely, eh?)
• first born has the ability to hear it, learn it, remember it, regurgitate it, second born?  we have no idea what he knows because he refuses to confirm to any form of school (His Sunday School teachers says he is very prepared, but I have never heard him count past ten and that was only during a game of hide ‘n seek when he thought no one was listening.  And, colors?  You can have on any color shirt and regardless, the second born is going to name every color under the rainbow except the one you are actually wearing.)  So, who knows!
• first born said, “let’s go to the doctor, get my shots so I can go to school now” and the second born said, “I’m not going if I have to go to the doctor first”
• And, finally, the first born started discussing school, kindergarten and about 6 or 8 weeks into kindergarten, he professed himself ready for first grade.  And now he is asking when he can just go on to second grade already.  The second born, he says “I am not going to school ever!”

And, with that, I give you the most adorable, stubborn, non-social kid I’ve ever met (because the world knows that I am the most social person in the world so I just don’t know where his bashfulness comes from?) GRRRRRR

See that face?  That’s the face of the I-am-not-doing-that-just-because-you-said-I-am-suppose-to-do-it!

And, ask him to pose for a picture?  Please, let’s just get one good one ok?

And this is what you get!  GRRRRR

What an adventure this is going to be!  Join me?

Yes, when my first born was starting Kindergarten I was skeered (that’s hillbilly for Oh my, what if he gets in trouble or isn’t very smart).  But, indeed, he does talk too much sometimes but has maintained straight A’s, nothing below a 98 that I can find for that matter. 

My husband is a genius. I’m sure you’ve heard that more times than you care to but he isn’t called Boy Genius on my other blog no reason.  As a matter of fact, the folks at the Disney conference got a taste of his genius when the bus driver taking us to one of the events was asking riddles over the loud speaker and he never once fooled Boy Genius.  Simple stuff really, if you have your head in that same space (and my head is never in the space with his).  Although there were plenty of riddles, the first one is the one that sticks out in my mind and caused conversation all over the bus.   What can you put in a box to make it lighter?  A hole! 

Yea, duh! 

With that, we don’t call Ditto Boy that for no reason either.  Of course, he didn’t get the riddles but he takes in way more information than your average tourist and certainly more than your average 7-year-old tourist. 

Either way, he has only been in trouble for talking and it hasn’t been near as difficult this year as it was last.  But, his teacher last year did a great job of helping him learn when it is appropriate to chatter and when it isn’t.  The best!

My parents never made a big deal about my grades until I was absolutely old enough to have some major input into whether I studied or did homework.  As it is right now, if we have a lot going on one night in particular, we send a note and he is isn’t punished for not getting his work done.  And, considering that he is well above level right now, that helps. 

But, I mentioned the straight A’s and I want to clarify that my own father never mentioned that only straight A’s were acceptable.  Even when I was in high school and it was obvious that I was making more B’s than A’s because my social schedule was a bit cluttered, he never made a big deal out of anything but “do your best!”. 

And, my husband made good grades simply because…well yea, he is a genius.

And the two of us haven’t discussed how we would handle grades and for now, I really don’t see it necessary.  But, that doesn’t mean that my son is immune to the chatter of other kids.  Other parents just don’t think like we do.  So, although we’ve never made much of a big deal over straight A’s (although we do celebrate a good grade on a particular test now and again), his classmates who haven’t been on the A Honor Roll all year are quick to jump in and mention his intelligence and his grades.  Other parents talk about it.  It’s almost like people think we beat him to make sure he gets good grades.  Honestly, I really hope it never comes to that.

I can’t speak for my husband but my own grades were dictated by the drive within me.  Not something my parents pushed on me.  I didn’t make anything but straight A’s til I started high school.  And, wow!  That was a major change.  But, I still made mostly A’s with an occasional B thrown in for good measure.  By the time I was old enough to drive, I was making about a 50/50 split between A’s and B’s.  Boys were obviously on my mind too. 

And then…….I learned to drive.  I was playing sports, I was participating in every extra-curricular activity known to man-kind and by this time, there were more B’s than A’s.  And finally, the last grading period of high school, my senior year, a C!  The nerve! 

Nothing important about that, just interesting to me in hindsight how obvious my lifestyle was just by looking at my report card.

Now, back to my first born. I still had that fear that I was going to be going to school every day with my duct tape to close his mouth and some rope to tie him to his chair.  Nope, hasn’t happened yet!  What a great surprise that has been!

So, what does next year bring?  My happy go lucky first born and my stubborn as a mule second born….this could be interesting!

Walker was out of school from Monday, February 8 through Tuesday, February 16th.  We were part of the Disney Social Media Moms Celebrate Disney and we had a blast.  I had no inhibitions at all about taking him out of school for this.  Many others didn’t get the same support from their schools and the teachers.  We are lucky in that respect. 

With that, I’m quoting my first grader’s teacher here, “It’s not like you are going down on the Alabama River camping or something.”  Exactly.  We are talking Epcot for a full day.  Magic Kingdom for two days, the ESPN Sports Center Complex, closed parks just for our little cherubs to enjoy the parks, a concert by Demi Lovato and one of the Jonas Brothers and honestly, is there a week of sitting at a desk and learning that can compare to one day at Epcot. 

Yes it was very cold but no one should ever pass up a Dole Whip, right?  

To say the least, the kid is driving me nuts with everything he learned.  So, all I can say is this, if you get an opportunity to go, especially one like I got, and you don’t get support on the local level for your child to miss school to go learn first hand what’s happening, then go up a level and continue to climb that administrative ladder.  If you have to enlist people like myself, Sara Bennett and others to make your school admin see the benefits of this education, even if it does partially include a mouse, then by all means, let me know.  I could write you a full monologue on all the wonders that we encountered.