jubyred

Cap n Gown

We did this two years ago when BoyChild "graduated" from Pre-K so this time, I knew what to expect.  The mothers who didn't stood there bawling as the little ones marched forward to accept their certificates of completion.  I fell for that ole trap last time.  This time, I was armed with tissues.

I'm not a big believer in applauding everything my children do.  I think it only serves to make them feel entitled or makes them think the world owes them some sort of special recognition for simply completing what they agreed to do.  So, I could really do without the whole cap and gown thing, however cute it is. 

What's moving to me, as it is to most of the parents, isn't little people dressed up as big people.  What gets us is just the marking of time.  There she is, five years old, suddenly.  It kills me.

So they waved as their names were called and hugged their teachers as they were handed their mini diplomas.  They said the Pledge of Allegiance, sang the national anthem and some other songs, and sat in a line of chairs trying so hard to be still and quiet.  Some did better than others.

We had our last Parent/Teacher conference last week as well. Probably in spite of us, she thrives. Of course I want to take credit when the teacher shows me her academic assessment.  She said she's quiet when she needs to be and speaks up when it's appropriate.  She is independent but a very adept leader among her peers.  I sat there and glowed hearing it.  But I guess my favorite thing she told me was that my daughter is a Whole Person.  In the end, that's all I really want.

The Pics from the day are here.

Pre Thanksgiving

Friday afternoon, I attended GirlChild's Thanksgiving party at school.  Now that I'm working again, I don't get to spend as much time in her classroom as I was able to for her big brother.  I communicate with her teacher and send in supplies when they are needed and make Halloween cupcakes, but it's not very often that I get to see her in that element. 

Here's what I learned:
-She is in desperate need of a haircut
-She's so tall.  I didn't know that until I saw the lineup
-She's good at the choreography
-She still won't try pumpkin pie
-She doesn't know how to sit demurely in a skirt

The class lined up and sang some Thanksgiving songs alternating between Indian feathers, Pilgrim hats, and Turkey Dances, accompanied by their awesome teacher on the guitar.  I am a total sucker for this kind of stuff.  These performances are such a reminder to me of how they've grown.  She rocked the turkey dance.

Red Light Green Light

Since the day my son was born, he has had a lot to say.  I have come to accept this fact about him.  He came prewired that way.  I am a firm believer that children are who they are and our job, as parents, is to nurture the best of them and allow them to blossom within that.  My job is not to turn him into someone else or to make him feel ashamed of who he is, but to try to foster an environment where he feels loved and accepted and celebrated for his true self.  It's what everyone deserves.

That being said, my kid just won't shut up.  I mean it in the most loving way.  Really, I do.  I have been told by no less than four teachers now, by six grandparents, and by complete strangers.  He is insightful and bright and his perspective is often quite remarkable for a kid of six.  But I'm not sure his first grade teacher needs to hear it all day long as she tries to prepare his class for all the upcoming standardized tests. 

Just as in Kindergarten, he begins each day on the color Green.  As infractions occur, he can be moved down the line to Yellow, then Blue then Red (at which time a letter is sent home detailing his behavior).  All last year, and towards the beginning of this school year, he was mostly a Green kid with a few Yellows thrown in for variety.  But over the past two months, the Greens are few and far between. 

I got in touch with his teacher and we spoke at length about his overly-social behavior.  He is completely distracted by everything and everyone.  When he is one on one, she said it's like talking to a ten year old.  He's reading at an accelerated level and doing well academically, but simply cannot seem to keep his commentary to himself.  His behavior is disruptive to the other students.  And of course, the main concern is that, very soon, the school work will not be as easy as it is now for him and he will lack the essential skills of paying attention that he will need in order to learn new material. 

So, we spoke at length and now have numerous (like three a day) conversations with him about how to behave.  We have extolled the benefits of Silence.  We have bribed him for good behavior and punished him for bad behavior and none of it has made any bit of difference.  I have recently threatened the loss of Trick or Treating in an effort to make him take it seriously. 

Each day, he comes home with his school agenda and he is required to draw a circle of the color he got for the day.  If he gets anything other than Green, he makes it a sad face, sometimes with commentary like, "Sorry."  But the strangest thing happened after speaking with his teacher last week.  His agenda mysteriously disappeared.  We looked in his backpack but no agenda.  The first day, he told me he got on Yellow.  The next day, we knew he was on Red because a letter came home that we had to sign and return.

Then yesterday, he came home and announced that he got Green! Drew had the kids fed by the time I got home and when I walked in, the two kidswere sitting at the bar eating popsicles.

-Hey Mommy!  Guess why we're eating popsicles even though it isn't a dessert night.

-Hmmm...I'm not sure.  Why?

-We're celebrating because I got Green today!

-That's excellent!  I am so proud of you.  I knew you could do it.  I'll have to call your teacher and ask her how it went today!

-Oh, well. uh, let's see...(rubbing his chin) Let me think, did I get Green or did I get Yellow?  I'm trying to remember now. 

-You don't remember what you got? You seemed pretty sure that it was Green a minute ago.

-Well, I had my mind on something else.  I might have been distracted.  now that I think about it, maybe it was Yellow.

-Hmmm.  Well, here we are celebrating your Green.  You got a popsicle and Daddy and I have been praising you.  How do you think we should handle this since you didn't actually get Green (looking at his half-eaten popsicle).

-Um, well (quickly slurping it down as he's talking to me), throw away the rest of my popsicle?

-Do you think that would be fair?  Since you didn't really earn that privilege?

-Um (slurp slurp) I guess so. Only (slurp slurp bite slurp), it's almost gone and, uh, (slurp slurp) now it really is all gone so uh, all I have is the stick. 

Long Way Home

With Drew's new job and my new work schedule comes some changes in the kids' schedules this school year. Drew works from home on Mondays (and maybe another day coming up soon) and I am at home on Fridays.  That means that BoyChild can ride the school bus home those days and we can meet him at the bus stop.

The week before school started, there was an orientation/meet-n-greet.  At that event, the school had posted the bus schedules and there was some confusion over which bus our neighborhood would take.  There was one option that picked up the kids at 7:02 and another bus came along later at 7:35.  Obviously, we all wanted the 7:35 bus.  Waking up a 6 year old at 6:30 five days a week to attend school that begins at 8:00 am under a mile away is ridiculous to me.  So, I had no less than four conversations with the ladies at the bus table in the cafeteria at orientation and the way it was left, was that we'd see them at 7:35 on Monday morning.  I alerted the other mothers to do the same.

On the first day of school, the bus came at 7:35 but was on the OTHER side of the street meaning all the little ones had to cross the street.  They promptly changed our bus to the 7:02 one and after showing up to an empty bus stop Tuesday morning (was anyone going to inform us?) I drove my son to school at 7:45 AM and have been doing so since then.

This bus change, however, played out on the first Friday afternoon when I was supposed to meet him after school.  I stood there watching all the other kids get off and then the bus pulled away.  I asked his little buddy if he was on the bus and he said , "No."

I assumed he was on the original bus.  It's strange to consider now, but I wasn't really freaked out.  Maybe I should have been?  I drove to the school and walked into the front office.

-Hi.  My son didn't get off the bus today.
-Oh no.  Oh my God.  What's his name?  Who's his teacher?  What grade?

Next thing I know, his teacher has come to the front office and she tells me which bus she put him on.  The front desk is sort of freaking out and there are three other mothers in the office telling me how their kids would be hysterical.  I thought of my daughter and knew what they meant, but BoyChild isn't that kid, somehow.

They walkie talkied into the bus where he was and they said they had him and would return him to the school. 

He skipped into the front office with his backpack and his new school shoes.

-Hey, Mommy.
-Hey, Sweetie.  You okay?
-Oh yeah, I just got on the wrong bus is all. 
-Yeah, I know.  You wanna go get a milkshake?
-Sure.  Sounds good.

And that was that. 

I must remind myself when it seems difficult that sometimes it is very easy. 

First Day

Back to school came early for us.  It took two weeks of making the Pre-K school uniform seem super awesome and amazing to get GirlChild on board, but she resigned herself this day and didn't complain too much. 

One View on Education

I could go on for days about this...

Public education in this country is in shambles.  There are few people who would disagree with that, although many of us disagree on why or what is to be done about it.  I suppose we must begin with defining what success in education is.  What, exactly, is the goal of educating the children?  Why does it matter that all children are educated (and not just the ones in my home)?  What are we attempting to produce and how will we know that it has been achieved?  How do we measure that?

Each day, BoyChild is evaluated on his behavior in kindergarten.  All the students in his class begin on green.  One violation later, they go to yellow, then to red.  It is a system the teacher uses to entice her students to behave properly.  And, no doubt, a way to embarrass them among their peers and feel shameful when they act inappropriately.  I don't mean that in a judgmental way.  I use the same psychology on my children-praise when they do what I ask and reprimanding when they don't. 

But what it comes to mean is that each day, we pull out his evaluation sheet and discuss what color he's on.  It means that as he's getting on the bus each day, I'm  whispering,"Green day, okay?" in his ear as he hugs me goodbye.

Soon, this color system will be replaced with test scores and SATs and AP exams.  And, especially now with No Child Left Behind in full swing, his education will revolve entirely around those ways of measuring.  It matters not that he learns, but that he answers correctly.  It is, essentially, the antithesis of Education.

I say this because I was that child.  Any so-called "good student" will tell you that school is a system that you figure out.  Some kids get it and others don't.  I sailed through school with the least amount of effort I had to muster.  I studied for a quiz, made a perfect score, and promptly forgot most of it.  I learned the system but the real meat of it never quite made it into my brain. 

My younger brother, on the other hand, was never a poor student, but certainly struggled much more.  meanwhile, he was taking the vacuum cleaner part and  putting it back together.  At age 13, he would fix the computers at my father's office. For all his button-down conservatism, he is genuinely one of the most creative people I know.  He went though school (and life) asking "why and why not" as I just regurgitated the information presented to me.  Who was better educated?

I have read countless books on education.  The subject fascinates me and still, my opinions are all over the place.  What I do know is this-in order for our children to live full lives, we must address education holistically.  That process begins at home. 

I like a lot of what he says here.  This is not saying let's do less math and more finger painting.  It addresses the very human nature of education and how it has evolved:

Another Brick In the Wall

One month into public kindergarten and maybe, possibly, perhaps, we are finally feeling like it all may be okay.  I am not spending my evenings creating household budgets around nearby private schools at 25k an academic year (which does not account for after school or summer).  So, there's that.

When we found out the BoyChild's private pre-k school would not be offering kindergarten, we scrambled to meet with the principal of the local public school.  We got the tour and a lot of encouragement that he would, indeed, be treated and recognized as an individual there, in spite of the number of students.

So he began.  Day One, he was excited.  Day Two, not so much.  Day Three was a bit of a fight.  Day Four he said it was a very bad day.  Normally, none of this would cause me to be overly concerned.  It's like a new job.  The idea is usually better than the reality and the novelty of school had worn off quickly.

But I was concerned.  I had sent him to school with snacks and information on his peanut allergy.  But the teacher never once asked a question about it.  Instead, she had decided not to give him any snack in class while the others ate.  For days.  He kept saying he was bored.  He said it was baby work.  This from a kid who, like most, who can be entertained for hours with a popsicle stick and a paper towel. 

On the Friday of his first week, he was sent home with his week's worth of school work and his discipline report.  She was having trouble with him paying attention.  And as I looked through his huge collection of worksheets, I could see why.  He will be six in a few months.  And he was working on assignments like, find the triangle on a page of triangles and circles.  Next week they were planning on covering colors.  Monday was red day.

It was clear to me that we were losing him.  If he started hating school this early, where would we go from there? 

I've always believed that children have an innate love of learning.  And then something happens in schools to squash that into oblivion.  It becomes this process, this unnatural system that tries to force them into this compartment and they will, naturally, resist it.  He had gone from a learning environment where everything was presented as play to an academic environment where all material was presented by the teacher at the front of the class.  Gone was individual attention.  No more games.  No more "toys" like the fundamental Montessori classroom tools that use all the senses.  We had been relegated to worksheets and silence. So, not only was this a purely academic environment, the subject matter was so elementary that it couldn't even hold his attention. It was the equivalent of me taking a four hour class to  learn the fundamentals of boiling water.   

I thought about the other parents opening up their children's backpacks that afternoon.  Was I really the only one who felt like that was a real waste of time?  Apparently so.

I wrote his teacher a very nice note asking for some of her time to discuss the kindergarten curriculum and  what options we had in altering it a bit for BoyChild.  I never said anything personal about her, but just explained that he was used to more challenging work and that she was going to have discipline problems with him if he isn't engaged. 

Later that morning, I received a call from the school principal.  He said he had discussed the situation thoroughly with BoyChild's teacher and they both agreed that he would be better suited with another kindergarten teacher, one who has advanced training and certification with gifted students.  Now, don't get me wrong, BoyChild is a bright kid.  But does knowing his colors make him "gifted?" 

The principal walked him to his new class and a few hours later, I got a phone call from his new teacher.   She asked about his food allergies (thank you) and reiterated what the principal said, that BoyChild would be in a smaller reading group and for part of the day may go to a first grade class to  do some reading and math.  In the spring, he'd be tested for a formal gifted program.

I have some serious concerns about the whole first grade class thing.  I don't think he's socially ready for that.  I did it at his age and  found it very difficult to know who my peers were.  The kindergartens made fun of me.  The first graders didn't like me either. Ideally, I'd like them to find a solution that keeps him with his age group but allows him to do more challenging work. 

Last week, they did reading assessments on the students.  Kindergarten levels are A, B, or C (beginning, middle, or end of year).  BoyChild is hovering at Level E, middle of first grade. On the flip side, he has a total meltdown when he finds we are all out of Cheerios.  As a mother, I'm trying to figure out which part of that equation to address.

He has learned what he knows probably in spite of us. I wish I could take credit for his abilities, but I'm not sure I had much to do with it.  His emotional development, on the other hand, is all my doing (or undoing as the case may be) so if I have to focus on one area, that's gotta be it.  The rest of it will work itself out.

Kindergarten!

First Day of School Pics...

BoyChild was excited.  GirlChild was a wreck and wouldn't let go of Mommy.  Mommy only cried a little when he got on the bus.  Daddy took pictures. 

Item 1

I hate being “That Mom.” I didn’t like those broads before I had kids, and they still make me crazy.  But I’m beginning to get it.

I think it started with the diagnosis of BoyChild’s peanut allergy when he was three years old. Suddenly I had to deflect all danger from this kid in a way I had not dealt with before. Instead of just worrying he would fall down the stairs or choke on his peaches, I had to find some way to control his food intake when everyone we came into contact with wanted to feed my kid. I‘ve said this before, but he is an EATER.

We had a lock on the pantry for 2 years not to protect him from allergens, for we had long ago disposed of anything suspect, but because he would sit down and eat 5 slices of bread in one sitting. He would spoon Ovaltine into his chubby little mouth.  And on more than one occasion, I have found him elbow deep in the mayo. His Grammy says he is a joy to cook for.

So, everyone who shows up brings some li’l sumpin sumpin for him, and I have to be the mean Food Police, the big ole downer to say, “I’m sorry, but those fresh baked cookies that you just brought over might kill him.”

The part that irked me most of all is that I’m just not that person with my kids. I don’t answer questions for them. I don’t do anything for them that I’m pretty sure they could take on. On a day-to-day basis, I’m much meaner to my kids than that. There are no special dinners just because you don’t like what we’re eating (oh wait, that never happens). I limit all options and expect them to deal with it.

School began last week. We all woke up and got dressed and walked BoyChild to the bus stop. We took some pictures and waved “goodbye” And so began the week of letters to and from his teacher. The first day, we had dropped off all his school supplies including snacks galore. At snack time, she wouldn’t allow him to eat anything because she was freaked out about the allergies. He’s a pretty easy-going kid, so no drama ensued, but still…I bought the snacks. So, I wrote a nice little note explaining he could eat those. By the time she wrote me back, on Wednesday, she said those snacks were gone because the other kids ate them and could I bring in some more? Okaaay. I wrote back and said, “Sure!”

All week, he would come home and say he was bored. “All they do is baby stuff.” Getting him up in the morning was a struggle. He was hating it. And that was unlike him. When he complained that he didn’t have time to finish his lunch, I told him he should talk less and eat more. When he complained that he has to use the bathroom only at the bathroom time when the whole class goes, I told him that that’s the way they do it there and his body will adjust (but ask your teacher to go if you can’t hold it.)

Then on Friday, he brought home his work for the week and it was sad. He had a folder of the most basic work, recognizing colors and “find all the squares on the page” kind of crap. He’s a bright kid, sure. But he’s almost six. We’re a little past “can you find the blue triangle” stage. His report for the week said he was having trouble paying attention. Another telling sign for me.

Like any mother, I know my kid. He can be a real pain in my ass and he can be bratty and impossible. But a few things are givens with him. He is socially adaptable in most every situation. He is eager and ready for anything. He thrives if he is engaged even a little. He can sit and concentrate for long periods of time. And he loves school. He craves it. He loves the kids, he loves the activities, he loves the teachers. That’s never been an issue.

All I could think about was the Montessori principle of capitalizing on a child’s inherent desire to learn. Children learn to hate school because of their experiences. Hating school is not inevitable. But this is how it goes…kids are bored, not challenged or not getting the help they need.  They are not connected, not engaged, and everything is geared to the group instead of the individual child. If we didn’t get this right, and soon, he would be lost.

So, I sent a very nice letter to his teacher asking if we could find a time to talk about the kindergarten curriculum and what our options are in terms of something more advanced. I explained that there will be discipline issues if he’s bored and tried not to make it sound personal at all.

Later that day, the school principal called me to discuss it.

So, on Monday, the principal walked BoyChild to his new classroom with his new teacher (certified in Gifted curriculum). He will be assessed this week and the class will be broken into groups according to abilities then each group will be taught accordingly. He will also be going to a 1^st grade class for part of the day for reading and math. But he gets to hang with his li’l buddies for Art and PE and all the fun stuff.

A few hours later, his new teacher called me to introduce herself and ask me personally what the deal is with his allergy. I was delighted. She also loves next door to my Boot Camp trainer. It is destiny, I tell you.

Yesterday, BoyChild bought his lunch for the first time. When I asked him about what he ate, he said he had some chicken nuggets and some peaches. “There was some cake thing but it didn’t have ingredients on it so Ms. Phillips said I shouldn’t eat it.”

“She walked with you through the lunch line?”

“Yep. She helped me get all my food and asked the lunch lady about all the foods.”

I heart Ms. Phillips. This is why she was Teacher of the Year last year. He is in good hands. Guess that means I should let go a bit, huh? 

The Peanut Pickle

It has begun.  My utter hysteria over Kindergarten beginning tomorrow.  Stranger than my freak-out is the fact that it has taken me totally off guard.

On Friday, I left work early to pick up BoyChild from camp and take him to his Kindergarten orientation.  Now, keep in mind that he has been to two schools now.  School Number One was a little Montessori classroom with 14 kids and 2 teachers.  Period.  School Number Two was 6 classrooms and a handful of teachers who all knew my children. 

Kindergarten is a million kids, about 800 teachers, and 2000 administrative staff.  There are, oh, I'd say 50 doors leading into the school, and every one of those people are out to get my kid.  Oh, wait, no, that was my li'l nightmare last night.

In truth, I am feeling okay about this whole "some dude who may or may not be jacked-up on Meth is driving my only son to school five days a week" thing.  Sure.  No problem. No, this week's freak-out is the inevitable peanut allergy issue.

I arrive in his classroom and briefly meet his teacher.  She introduces herself using her first name which totally throw me off.  Then she points to where he will be sitting.  She hands him a bag of goodies and then goes to greet another family who has arrived.  First item in the bag, a big ole chocolate covered ALMOND.  Not a good sign.

Really, I understand.  I do.  If you don't have a kid with a nut allergy, it's not in your brain.  I don't fault her so much, but FUCK.  Have you picked up a fucking newspaper in 5 years?  Plus, it totally forces me to be THAT mom.  "Nice to meet you Ms. Pain in my Ass.  But don't worry.  After I smile sweetly at you, I'll just take out my teacher frustration on your vulnerable child."

-Hi.  I think I filled everything out correctly.  This is probably a  good time to mention that he has a peanut allergy (handing her the candy).

-Oh, well, that's an almond.

-Yeah, same thing in his body.  Peanuts, almonds, pecans---allergic to all of them.

-OH!  NO!  REALLY!!!??? (directs all of this to him)  Well, I guess we should keep you away from them then, huh?  How allergic is he?

-Well, he's been tested.  According to his allergist, pretty allergic.  Any ingestion could lead to anaphylactic shock.  It has the potential to be fatal if not treated.  He's pretty good about asking, but we should probably arrange a time to talk about this more if you haven't had a student with this allergy before.  With the right precautions, it's very manageable.  (I can see her eyes are on the door as other families file in.)

-Uh, yeah, okay.  I'm sending him some stuff home on Monday so you can just fill out the form in there.

-Uh, okay.  Is that all I need to do?

-Yep.  Ok, little guy.  It's nice to meet you.  See you on Monday!!

I went and met with the woman in charge of the cafeteria after that.  The basic gist is there are peanuts everywhere.  Cookies, brownies, in salads, sandwiches. 

Next stop, the school nurse.  Filled out a form aso she can keep an Epipen in there for him.  Did I mention, the nurse's office in on the whole other side of the school?

Okay, so here we are. Deep breath.

I have printed up and laminated little cards with his picture on it and emergency instructions that I will distribute to all his teachers-Art, PE, Computer, and Music.  The cafeteria will have one, the school nurse, and the front office. They look like mini-WANTED posters with the words "I AM ALLERGIC TO PEANUTS" on one side and the signs of a reaction and instructions on the back.

I have loaded up his class with every possible snack so hopefully no one else will ever have to bring any in.  He is taking his lunch everyday and has been lectured no less than 10 times on food-sharing and precautions to take.

On his first day of school, he's taking a story book geared towards kids his age about peanut allergies.  Hopefully his teacher will read it to his class.

Short of that, I'm not sure what else to do.

It's a fine line.  I don't want him to feel different.  But shit, everyone is different. Maybe it's good that he gets that now.  I have no idea.  Thank God he's hyper-social and we don't have to deal with any ADD issues or learning difficulties on top of this. 

I knew this day was coming. I guess I just anticipated that it would be about the normal stuff--the letting go of my first child and all of that.  I hate that those feelings, which I'm also feeling in mass amounts, is all jumbled up in this freaking allergy crap.

I am calling the allergist this week and having them schedule a food challenge ASAP.  Basically, they give him a small dose of pure peanut extract and we wait.  If he reacts, they are prepared to treat him.  If not, we figure out if we're safe.  Given his last 2 tests, I think it's worth a shot, terrifying as it might be.

If he was ever in the clear, I don't think I could convince him it's okay to eat peanut butter.  I probably wouldn't even try.