One's answer: "Today I learned in Health class that the dad of one of my classmates is in prison serving a life sentence. We've been talking about who we are and what we like about ourselves and what we don't, and when it was his turn he started talking about this and then he was just sobbing all of a sudden. It was awful."
Two's answer: "We did math, like, almost all day, even fractions. Because fractions are going to be on the STARR test and it's going to be a really hard test so we have to study a lot for it."
So I feel overwhelmed by One's answer. 11 is too young to deal with that. I don't want him to go to private school with kids whose parents have private jets at their disposal, but did he have to learn about "dads who go to jail" today? Really? Not that I blame that poor child for talking about it: I wouldn't want to do an "All About Me" project in Health class either if that was one of my talking points. But I'm feeling very much like a protective mama bear right now, and part of me wants to stuff One back into a shell for a few more years before releasing him into the wild.
Two's answer today is, in reality, the more troubling one (and yes, he frequently talks in onelongsentencelikethat. just in case you were wondering). This STARR test is the replacement for the state-wide TAKS, and most of what we've been told equates to "if you were commended on TAKS you'll barely pass STARR." For all of that, I don't give a rat's patootie about the damn test. I don't want anyone teaching anything because it's on some test written by a bunch of yahoos in Austin. I want my child to have a good, intelligent teacher and I want her to teach my child what a third grader should learn. Why does it have to be more complicated than that? Yes, I am aware that is merely a rhetorical question. But why does it have to be?
Fortunately for everyone, neither of the boys seem horribly upset about his day. It's just mom who got all stressed out. And that would be, of course, business as usual.
Showing posts with label School. Show all posts
Showing posts with label School. Show all posts
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Saturday, November 12, 2011
France 1, Texas 0
A expatriate friend posted on Facebook yesterday about the glories of Armistice Day* in Paris, where she now lives. Schools, government and most businesses were closed, at precisely 11am church bells throughout the city rang out, and jumbo-trons around the Arc de Triomphe broadcast the national celebration. Sounds absolutely beautiful, doesn't it? Honorable, respectful, and altogether the right thing to do.Meanwhile, back home in the land of the freest and the home of the bravest (that's Texas to the rest of y'all) my boys came home from public school and were surprised when I told them it was Veterans' Day. No announcement had been made in either of their schools, no lessons given in class about the hundreds of thousands of people whose work past and present makes our children's lives possible. There was nothing. Nada. Zilch.
So tell me, what exactly does the Houston Independent School District think about our veterans? It seems to me they're somewhere in between uncaring and downright ashamed. Unlike the French. And when Texas loses to France in the patriotism stakes, it's a very sorry day indeed.
*Yes, I know that, to the French, Armistice Day is more like our Memorial Day, in that it honors primarily war dead and not just those who served. But when was the last time your child's teacher told him why he was getting a three day weekend at the end of May? Yup, I didn't think so.
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
I Don't Know When
I really don't know when I've been this angry. It must have been at least a few days ... I mean years. Here's the ridiculous idiocy that has me furious:1. It all begins when One's debate club, scheduled for after school today, was cancelled. It was announced to the students only this morning. This isn't bad in and of itself: it just starts the ball rolling. Because then:
2. One's stupid, uncaring, worthless public school didn't bother to call or email parents about said cancellation. Instead, they left it up to 11 year olds to call their parents. On their cell phones. Which we don't (and never will) have for our children. Eleven year olds. Cell phones. Call at the end of the day, 7 1/2 hours after being told to do so. Sure, that works.
3. One decided that he would sit in the office for an hour and a half without asking for help. Without asking "may I use the phone to call my mom?" Without asking "can you look up her cell phone number for me? I seem to have forgotten it?" Nothing. Nada. Zip. He didn't even do his stinking homework while he sat there, thankyouverymuch.
I am definitely angrier at the school for thinking they have ZERO responsibility in this situation. An email? A phone call? Something? They knew from 8am on that this was happening, and we got ... nothing. Worthless people sucking up my tax dollars, that's what they are. I really don't care one damn bit that this is middle school - they're still children, for Heaven's sake. The adults are still adults, aren't they? Who is responsible for whom in this situation? I'm guessing it's adults responsible for children - but what do I know? Obviously not enough.
But I'm also angry at One, who didn't take the slightest bit of initiative to help himself out of his predicament. One minute I think he's all mature, the next he acts like a 5 year old. God help me: I may never live through his teenage years.
The only thing I can think of to do is to turn this one over to Husband. As the possessor of his horribly frightening litigator's voice, I think he owes the school at least one phone call. The thought of that almost makes me un-angry again. Almost, but not quite.
Friday, October 14, 2011
Favorite Things
High on my list of favorite things is the annual International Festival at our elementary school. This afternoon it did not disappoint - it never does. Here are a few favorite pictures.
The Indian dancers, who performed to a fun Indian pop song. They were fantastic, and very Bollywood.
Always the cutest: the Japanese dance.
The USA table:
And a small piece of our newly painted cow. I won't reveal which piece - just enjoy ...
The Indian dancers, who performed to a fun Indian pop song. They were fantastic, and very Bollywood.
Always the cutest: the Japanese dance.
The USA table:
And a small piece of our newly painted cow. I won't reveal which piece - just enjoy ...
Thursday, August 4, 2011
A Sense of Accomplishment
I wasn't blogging a whole lot at the beginning of the summer, so I missed writing about two very important events in the life of the Grass Widow household: One graduated from elementary school and both boys became black belts in taekwondo. All in one whirlwind week - it was quite a show. Watching both events filled me with pride and happiness. So much happiness that, in fact, toward the end of the graduation ceremony I realized my face hurt --- I'd been smiling non-stop the entire time. One was so handsome in his eagerly requested coat and tie, Two almost behaved himself, and the whole auditorium was filled with smiles and hugs and shouts of laughter.
I thought it was amazing.
And then I watched my children work harder than I ever imagine they could, and achieve something that not many achieve. And my perspective on the two events changed a bit.
Because as happy as I was for One at that graduation, let's face it: everyone (in the first world, anyway) graduates from the 5th grade. Yes, he worked hard and had challenges, but it wasn't Phi Beta Kappa from Harvard, for Heaven's sake. It was a happy, fun elementary school graduation, capped off by ice cream. It was a moment to savor and be proud of, but it wasn't truly an accomplishment.
I say that not to be mean, but to point out the difference between how we feel when we have to do something and how we feel when we choose to do something. You have to go to 5th grade, or the homeschool equivalent thereof. You don't have to play on an all-star baseball team, or dance on stage in a ballet in front of 100's of people, or earn a black belt in martial arts in less than 3 years. So when you do, it is sweet. It is a victory. And from a parent's perspective, it feels so much different from any other parenting experience I can hardly explain it. It's not just a sense of pride, of "hey, that's MY KID". It's more like you're impressed with them, because they are people in their own right who make sacrifices and work hard even when they don't want to and don't give up. They are people who make it. I was proud of the boys, but even more than that, they impressed me. Not in a shallow way, but in the sense that I was honored to have been a part of helping them get there - I was proud not because they were mine, but because I was theirs. They did the work, I didn't, but they let me share in the glory of it.
It's exhilarating stuff, this parent thing. Watch out, world: these boys are coming!
I thought it was amazing.And then I watched my children work harder than I ever imagine they could, and achieve something that not many achieve. And my perspective on the two events changed a bit.
Because as happy as I was for One at that graduation, let's face it: everyone (in the first world, anyway) graduates from the 5th grade. Yes, he worked hard and had challenges, but it wasn't Phi Beta Kappa from Harvard, for Heaven's sake. It was a happy, fun elementary school graduation, capped off by ice cream. It was a moment to savor and be proud of, but it wasn't truly an accomplishment.
I say that not to be mean, but to point out the difference between how we feel when we have to do something and how we feel when we choose to do something. You have to go to 5th grade, or the homeschool equivalent thereof. You don't have to play on an all-star baseball team, or dance on stage in a ballet in front of 100's of people, or earn a black belt in martial arts in less than 3 years. So when you do, it is sweet. It is a victory. And from a parent's perspective, it feels so much different from any other parenting experience I can hardly explain it. It's not just a sense of pride, of "hey, that's MY KID". It's more like you're impressed with them, because they are people in their own right who make sacrifices and work hard even when they don't want to and don't give up. They are people who make it. I was proud of the boys, but even more than that, they impressed me. Not in a shallow way, but in the sense that I was honored to have been a part of helping them get there - I was proud not because they were mine, but because I was theirs. They did the work, I didn't, but they let me share in the glory of it.
It's exhilarating stuff, this parent thing. Watch out, world: these boys are coming!
Friday, June 24, 2011
What I Don't Want for my Boys
One of things I do not want, most of all, is to turn out snobs. Sounds reasonable, doesn't it? But how many people who say that would also give a limb and a kidney to send their child to an Ivy or similarly prestigious school? This is why I've said before and will say again: what your kids learn in class is only one of the many things you should think about when picking a school - be it college, elementary school, high school - whatever.
Because really, do you want them to end up like this one day?
"My education taught me to believe that people who didn’t go to an Ivy League or equivalent school weren’t worth talking to, regardless of their class. I was given the unmistakable message that such people were beneath me. We were “the best and the brightest,” as these places love to say, and everyone else was, well, something else: less good, less bright. I learned to give that little nod of understanding, that slightly sympathetic “Oh,” when people told me they went to a less prestigious college. (If I’d gone to Harvard, I would have learned to say “in Boston” when I was asked where I went to school—the Cambridge version of noblesse oblige.) I never learned that there are smart people who don’t go to elite colleges, often precisely for reasons of class. I never learned that there are smart people who don’t go to college at all." [emphasis added]
That right there, folks, is the description on an idiot. A very educated one, but an idiot all the same. No. Thank. You.
Because really, do you want them to end up like this one day?
"My education taught me to believe that people who didn’t go to an Ivy League or equivalent school weren’t worth talking to, regardless of their class. I was given the unmistakable message that such people were beneath me. We were “the best and the brightest,” as these places love to say, and everyone else was, well, something else: less good, less bright. I learned to give that little nod of understanding, that slightly sympathetic “Oh,” when people told me they went to a less prestigious college. (If I’d gone to Harvard, I would have learned to say “in Boston” when I was asked where I went to school—the Cambridge version of noblesse oblige.) I never learned that there are smart people who don’t go to elite colleges, often precisely for reasons of class. I never learned that there are smart people who don’t go to college at all." [emphasis added]
That right there, folks, is the description on an idiot. A very educated one, but an idiot all the same. No. Thank. You.
Saturday, May 14, 2011
U.S. of A.
Compare and contrast:A teacher in MA refused to hang her student's drawing of the American flag in the classroom, or even allow him to hang it from his desk.
vs.
We just finished watching the video of Two's (public) school music performance entitled "America's Heart", in which children from 30+ birth countries sang five songs devoted to their love of the USA. Complete with flag drawings up on a large screen during the last song, Small Part of the World.
Why do we live in Texas again? Oh, wait - I remember.
Friday, April 15, 2011
Helping Japan
The boys' school has been making paper cranes to raise money to help victims in Japan - they started out with a goal of making 1000 and got to something like 2500 before it was all over. The 1000 have been sent to Japan with wishes for recovery and healing, and the leftovers are hanging around the school, hopefully bringing us all happiness and wishes come true.
Additionally, the Japanese families at school organized a bake sale, held today at early dismissal, to raise money for Japanese relief efforts.
I love the tee-shirts: they say "we are with you" in English and Japanese.
Additionally, the Japanese families at school organized a bake sale, held today at early dismissal, to raise money for Japanese relief efforts. 
Beautiful.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
The Story of Name That Book
Once upon a time ... well, actually today, Two went to his first Name That Book competition and, although his team took home 3rd prize and not 1st, a fantastic time was had by all. They missed being in the "sudden death showdown" for first place by one question, but still took home swanky medals and got to eat lunch out with the team, teachers and parents before heading back to school. Two is already making plans to try out for next year's team, which to me is the best news of all, because it means that he really did enjoy the whole experience. I didn't bring my camera for a few reasons, but hopefully I'll be able to update this post later when his teacher emails some pictures to me. He looked so cute in his (rarely worn) red school polo shirt!
Of course, I have something to say besides that. I always have something else to say (as you all know very well). My other somethings:
1. Our bracket was made up of, among other schools, TH Rogers, West U., and Condit elementaries - all some of the best schools in the district. The other brackets who competed earlier in the week and will tomorrow had 1, maybe 2 Exemplary schools in them. Not for us: this was a tough competition! I'm not sure if HISD planned it that way or, if they did, why they would, but at least we were up to the challenge.
2. I was surprised to learn that it takes five adults to run a two hour competition for 42 second grade children. This isn't counting the people who came with the teams - the librarians and teachers from each school who have been working with the kids to prepare for the competition. No: five administrators sat there for the entire time. One ran the clock (on, off, reset. on, off, reset), one announced "And the next question...", one asked the questions and kept score, and two were judges. They needed 2 judges so they could see all seven groups of children without moving (how could you ask someone to move while working? you obviously can't.) All these people had titles I have never heard of: Computer Library Technologist was one important-sounding one. But I have to ask: if they don't work with kids all day (or at any time, as I fear is the case), what do these people do when they aren't running a competition for 2nd graders? A competition, mind you, about which they spoke at length as having been so hard to put together, and for which they felt they had worked an unbelievable amount. Does anyone wonder why we have a budget crisis in HISD? Nope, me neither.
3. At the front of the stage sat a group of well-groomed, good looking, well-dressed children. They all happened to be African American. And they also happen to have teachers who need to be taken out and thrown in a lake (perhaps one with a few alligators). Why? Because those poor children sat there, quietly and with perfect manners, and didn't answer more than 8 questions out of 25 correctly. You could tell when a question was asked - unless it was an obvious one - that they had no idea. They sat quietly, then one of the children would put out a guess and they would go with it. Meanwhile, the top teams were debating and scrambling and whispering together, and when they picked their answer you could see the triumph in their faces: they'd worked hard and they were pretty darn sure they were right. But not these six. There they sat, a picture in miniature of what can go wrong with public schools. They'd been told they were smart (they probably are), they'd been told they were the best 2nd grade readers in the school (likely true, unfortunately), and yet when they left their school and went on a big stage with kids from other schools, they had no way to compete. Isn't that what's going to happen to them again and again in life? Yes, it is, unless they have teachers who step up and take responsibility for really and truly educating these kids in their care. By the end of the first round of questions I had tears standing in my eyes, as did some of those six children. I am sad and angry and I can't do a damn thing about it.
I wish I could end my once upon a time post happily ever after, but I can't, can I? I'm very, very happy for Two and the fun he has had through this entire process. I'm exceedingly grateful to his two wonderful teachers who gave up two afternoons a week for months to coach the kids on all 31 books. And I'm incredibly proud of the hard work my little monkey put into the competition, not only in taking his reading skills to a new level but in working to overcome his fear of being in the spotlight at the competition itself. But all the same, there are people out there right now who should feel nothing but shame for what they have done to children who deserved to have as good an experience today as Two did. Through this competition Two learned that perserverance and hard work mean something - they make a difference in how you perform and how you feel about yourself. All of those 42 children today could have - should have - learned the same lesson. But they didn't. That's wrong, folks; it's just plain wrong.
Of course, I have something to say besides that. I always have something else to say (as you all know very well). My other somethings:
1. Our bracket was made up of, among other schools, TH Rogers, West U., and Condit elementaries - all some of the best schools in the district. The other brackets who competed earlier in the week and will tomorrow had 1, maybe 2 Exemplary schools in them. Not for us: this was a tough competition! I'm not sure if HISD planned it that way or, if they did, why they would, but at least we were up to the challenge.
2. I was surprised to learn that it takes five adults to run a two hour competition for 42 second grade children. This isn't counting the people who came with the teams - the librarians and teachers from each school who have been working with the kids to prepare for the competition. No: five administrators sat there for the entire time. One ran the clock (on, off, reset. on, off, reset), one announced "And the next question...", one asked the questions and kept score, and two were judges. They needed 2 judges so they could see all seven groups of children without moving (how could you ask someone to move while working? you obviously can't.) All these people had titles I have never heard of: Computer Library Technologist was one important-sounding one. But I have to ask: if they don't work with kids all day (or at any time, as I fear is the case), what do these people do when they aren't running a competition for 2nd graders? A competition, mind you, about which they spoke at length as having been so hard to put together, and for which they felt they had worked an unbelievable amount. Does anyone wonder why we have a budget crisis in HISD? Nope, me neither.
3. At the front of the stage sat a group of well-groomed, good looking, well-dressed children. They all happened to be African American. And they also happen to have teachers who need to be taken out and thrown in a lake (perhaps one with a few alligators). Why? Because those poor children sat there, quietly and with perfect manners, and didn't answer more than 8 questions out of 25 correctly. You could tell when a question was asked - unless it was an obvious one - that they had no idea. They sat quietly, then one of the children would put out a guess and they would go with it. Meanwhile, the top teams were debating and scrambling and whispering together, and when they picked their answer you could see the triumph in their faces: they'd worked hard and they were pretty darn sure they were right. But not these six. There they sat, a picture in miniature of what can go wrong with public schools. They'd been told they were smart (they probably are), they'd been told they were the best 2nd grade readers in the school (likely true, unfortunately), and yet when they left their school and went on a big stage with kids from other schools, they had no way to compete. Isn't that what's going to happen to them again and again in life? Yes, it is, unless they have teachers who step up and take responsibility for really and truly educating these kids in their care. By the end of the first round of questions I had tears standing in my eyes, as did some of those six children. I am sad and angry and I can't do a damn thing about it.
I wish I could end my once upon a time post happily ever after, but I can't, can I? I'm very, very happy for Two and the fun he has had through this entire process. I'm exceedingly grateful to his two wonderful teachers who gave up two afternoons a week for months to coach the kids on all 31 books. And I'm incredibly proud of the hard work my little monkey put into the competition, not only in taking his reading skills to a new level but in working to overcome his fear of being in the spotlight at the competition itself. But all the same, there are people out there right now who should feel nothing but shame for what they have done to children who deserved to have as good an experience today as Two did. Through this competition Two learned that perserverance and hard work mean something - they make a difference in how you perform and how you feel about yourself. All of those 42 children today could have - should have - learned the same lesson. But they didn't. That's wrong, folks; it's just plain wrong.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Tolerance
I found this last night in The Principal's Page, the newsletter the boys' principal writes up for parents:
"If your child is fasting, please send a note to the teacher. Unless we are notified by parents that refusal of a meal is related to the religious observance, we will see that all children eat during the identified lunch period. Please help us be respectful of your child's religious observance by sending a note."
How much better is that than the Alabama governor's statements at his inaguration this week? Isn't it nice to know that there are some people in government (using that term loosely here, yes) who want to make it easier for people to freely exercise their religious beliefs?
"If your child is fasting, please send a note to the teacher. Unless we are notified by parents that refusal of a meal is related to the religious observance, we will see that all children eat during the identified lunch period. Please help us be respectful of your child's religious observance by sending a note."
How much better is that than the Alabama governor's statements at his inaguration this week? Isn't it nice to know that there are some people in government (using that term loosely here, yes) who want to make it easier for people to freely exercise their religious beliefs?
Thursday, September 23, 2010
The Post in Which We Go to the Principal
One had his first trip to the principal today and, as I like to blog about my children's accomplishments, I thought I'd write about this one, too. Seriously, if he'd knocked someone's lights out, I'd be too busy sitting on him while calling military schools to blog, but this was, well, it was silly. Essentially, he was rude to a classmate twice and, rather than deal with it herself (by, oh, making him sit out for 10 minutes of recess), the substitute teacher for the day called in the big guns. Some choice quotes from One's re-counting of the tale:
"So I told him to be quiet because he can't seem to stop telling poop jokes during math and I get sent to the principal? What's that about?"
"I was on the playground at recess and Ms. A. (one of the administrative staff) came to get me. She looked so serious, I thought her aunt had just died. She barely spoke to me, just led me to the office like a bailiff taking a criminal to the judge."
Who can punish a child who tells such a story - and tells it so well, at that?
"So I told him to be quiet because he can't seem to stop telling poop jokes during math and I get sent to the principal? What's that about?"
"I was on the playground at recess and Ms. A. (one of the administrative staff) came to get me. She looked so serious, I thought her aunt had just died. She barely spoke to me, just led me to the office like a bailiff taking a criminal to the judge."
Who can punish a child who tells such a story - and tells it so well, at that?
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Son, There's a Place for Everything, and it's called College
I spent a lot of time emailing last Friday back and forth with an old law school friend, and one of the main topics of conversation was college and what we were planning on doing about it. He has some more time to plan, as his daughter is still in pre-school, so the discussion was more about the boys and what Husband and I had in mind. Not that we, too, don't have a lot of time to think about this stuff, but it does come up not all that infrequently; the boys are interested in what their lives as adults will look like, and I think that's healthy.
Anyway, in the series of emails, my friend questioned our resolve to put pretty strict guidelines on where the boys went to school and (to a lesser extent) what they studied when they got there. So, I'm on my soapbox: are you ready? Here's pretty much what I wrote on Friday:
I am perfectly willing to make distinctions in what we will pay for. Something like MIT + physics or Chicago + economics makes sense to me, but Harvard + English does not. Will I accept an English major out of UT? Maybe, although I'd rather it was a double major with math throw in there as well. Why all of this? Because in the end, an English degree from Harvard isn’t worth ½ of what we’d pay for it. The tuition inflation makes that so more than anything else. I used to think college was all about learning who you were and doing what you love. Now I know it’s about spending someone else’s money.
In a way this decision is the same as the one of public vs. private school right now. The boys have gone to good private schools, and we’ve discovered that they aren’t any better than our public school – so why on earth did we pay for it!? How much your kid learns has much more to do with parenting than it does with the school you choose. Within reason of course – I’m not comparing some inner-city high school to Choate – but really, it’s true. Good parents have kids who are curious about the world and who learn from everything they do; school is just part of that. As for college: a lot of college is what you make of it. I want to raise a child who is prepared to squeeze every last drop out of UT – who is curious and motivated and aware of what’s going on around him. And one who knows the value of a dollar, both his own and his parents’ money. That child is ready for college, and ready to be an adult.
My cousin’s child started college this month; he’s going to the local state university and living at home. It’s not the greatest school on earth, but he chose it over better private schools. He is wise enough to know that he can avoid putting himself and his family in debt, while still getting the best possible education he’s capable of getting. Not because the school is perfect, but because he’s going to look high and low for every bit of knowledge he can find. In other words, they raised their son to be an adult. That’s a he!! of a lot better attitude to have than the one of snobby entitlement with which I went off to college.
I have to tell you: I’m getting more like this as I get older, not less. 18 years in Texas has apparently knocked some sense into the idiot girl from upstate NY.
Make sense to anyone? Bueller? Bueller?
Anyway, in the series of emails, my friend questioned our resolve to put pretty strict guidelines on where the boys went to school and (to a lesser extent) what they studied when they got there. So, I'm on my soapbox: are you ready? Here's pretty much what I wrote on Friday:
I am perfectly willing to make distinctions in what we will pay for. Something like MIT + physics or Chicago + economics makes sense to me, but Harvard + English does not. Will I accept an English major out of UT? Maybe, although I'd rather it was a double major with math throw in there as well. Why all of this? Because in the end, an English degree from Harvard isn’t worth ½ of what we’d pay for it. The tuition inflation makes that so more than anything else. I used to think college was all about learning who you were and doing what you love. Now I know it’s about spending someone else’s money.
In a way this decision is the same as the one of public vs. private school right now. The boys have gone to good private schools, and we’ve discovered that they aren’t any better than our public school – so why on earth did we pay for it!? How much your kid learns has much more to do with parenting than it does with the school you choose. Within reason of course – I’m not comparing some inner-city high school to Choate – but really, it’s true. Good parents have kids who are curious about the world and who learn from everything they do; school is just part of that. As for college: a lot of college is what you make of it. I want to raise a child who is prepared to squeeze every last drop out of UT – who is curious and motivated and aware of what’s going on around him. And one who knows the value of a dollar, both his own and his parents’ money. That child is ready for college, and ready to be an adult.
My cousin’s child started college this month; he’s going to the local state university and living at home. It’s not the greatest school on earth, but he chose it over better private schools. He is wise enough to know that he can avoid putting himself and his family in debt, while still getting the best possible education he’s capable of getting. Not because the school is perfect, but because he’s going to look high and low for every bit of knowledge he can find. In other words, they raised their son to be an adult. That’s a he!! of a lot better attitude to have than the one of snobby entitlement with which I went off to college.
I have to tell you: I’m getting more like this as I get older, not less. 18 years in Texas has apparently knocked some sense into the idiot girl from upstate NY.
Make sense to anyone? Bueller? Bueller?
Monday, August 23, 2010
First Day
Back to school is here already! It's easy to get ready, having boys and living in a swamp; I mean, it's not like anyone has been begging me for new school clothes. They went off today in their favorite shorts and tees, eager to get on with 2nd and 5th grade. We've heard nothing but good things about their teachers this year, and they were really ready to go.
I've also resolved to go back to packing their lunch every day, even if it means sacrificing a little sleep each morning. They ate school lunch from January to May last year, but I really want to get them back on the brought-lunch wagon. Why? Well, One lost 6 lbs this summer: was it because he was so active, or did he just gain too much last Spring with all those tacos and burgers? I'm guessing half and half, but we're still not going back to school-bought food. Here's what they brought today; every day will look pretty much like this.
And if you're interested in what to feed your kiddos and all other things lunch, Bettina Siegel's blog The Lunch Tray is a great site to check out.
I've also resolved to go back to packing their lunch every day, even if it means sacrificing a little sleep each morning. They ate school lunch from January to May last year, but I really want to get them back on the brought-lunch wagon. Why? Well, One lost 6 lbs this summer: was it because he was so active, or did he just gain too much last Spring with all those tacos and burgers? I'm guessing half and half, but we're still not going back to school-bought food. Here's what they brought today; every day will look pretty much like this.
And if you're interested in what to feed your kiddos and all other things lunch, Bettina Siegel's blog The Lunch Tray is a great site to check out.
Friday, August 6, 2010
Why We Chose Public School
This could be a one-sentence post.
It's free.
Beginning, middle, and end. Complet, as the French say. But while it would be technically true, it wouldn't begin to cover the complexity of the choice, and it certainly wouldn't explain how we've been from private school to home school to private school to public school, all in eight years.
So here we go. I'll try to explain and you'll try to understand what passes for reasoning in my tortured brain. You will then (a) wonder how on earth I got through law school, and (b) have great pity on my husband, who lives with this kind of "logic" every day.
Ahem. Where was I? Oh, yes, now I remember. Public school: reasons for. I've found them; here they are:
After sampling the great offering of schooling out there - two very different private ones, a public one, and a year of home school - it has become painfully obvious that we are blessed with a ridiculously good public elementary school just a mile from our house. Teachers in one of the largest urban districts in the country wait years to get an interview at this school, never mind a job. Parents make home-buying choices based on our school zone. Other parents battle the magnet school lottery, hoping for the award of one of the few spots. Seriously, when I look at this public school in comparison to the private schools I've encountered, the only difference is the uniforms: they wear them and we don't. Oh, and in the price: did I mention that our school is free?
That's the basic reasoning, and it holds true most of all for our particular elementary school. A sheltered place, a good curriculum, a fine arts and music magnet, children from over 40 birth-countries, mothers with more post-graduate degrees than me - all in all, a rare and precious find.
But public school overall? Public school for middle and high school? That choice is another ball of wax altogether. We think we're committed to public school all the way through graduation. We've learned through experience that God isn't very interested in our "commitments", though, so we're open to being turned in a different direction, should He decide that's what's going on. But assuming we've got it right, and the boys are in public school for the long haul: why?
First of all, the options for middle and high school look good. There are two options for middle school other than the one to which we're zoned. We'll be checking both of them out this fall, although if I had to choose today I already have a heavy favorite. We'll also look at where we're zoned; it has a patchy reputation, but it's getting better every year. By the time Two is ready, it may be the easiest choice. For high school, the situation is similar. Our zoned high school has an IB program to apply to, and there is a magnet high school with very high marks that we're very interested in investigating. It may be a better choice than the IB program, especially if the boys aren't interested in playing high school team sports. Basically it guarantees they will be surrounded by more than the average number of what most people would call "dorks", but what I call "good friend material".
All of our public middle and high school options have a varied mix of kids from different ethnic and socio-economic backgrounds, and that is one of the points in their favor. The private schools here tend to be very, very uniform in their composition - and since that's not the environment in which the boys will live when they're grown, I see no reason for them to spend their "formative years" there. To me, one of the big reasons to stick with public school for middle and high school - especially in our large, city district - is that it looks like the city itself. To be perfectly blunt: if my upper-middle class Anglo kids stay in private school for the entire childhoods, they'll be surrounded by other children just. like. them. And they will therefore learn to work with and be friends only with children just. like. them. They will see people of other races and backgrounds - especially people with less than them economically - as different, puzzling, and (perhaps) uncomfortable to be around.
It's entirely my opinion, I know, but I don't think that is much of an education to give them. And as long as the pen-and-paper education at public school meets our expectations, it's not going to be the education they get.
It's free.
Beginning, middle, and end. Complet, as the French say. But while it would be technically true, it wouldn't begin to cover the complexity of the choice, and it certainly wouldn't explain how we've been from private school to home school to private school to public school, all in eight years.
So here we go. I'll try to explain and you'll try to understand what passes for reasoning in my tortured brain. You will then (a) wonder how on earth I got through law school, and (b) have great pity on my husband, who lives with this kind of "logic" every day.
Ahem. Where was I? Oh, yes, now I remember. Public school: reasons for. I've found them; here they are:
After sampling the great offering of schooling out there - two very different private ones, a public one, and a year of home school - it has become painfully obvious that we are blessed with a ridiculously good public elementary school just a mile from our house. Teachers in one of the largest urban districts in the country wait years to get an interview at this school, never mind a job. Parents make home-buying choices based on our school zone. Other parents battle the magnet school lottery, hoping for the award of one of the few spots. Seriously, when I look at this public school in comparison to the private schools I've encountered, the only difference is the uniforms: they wear them and we don't. Oh, and in the price: did I mention that our school is free?
That's the basic reasoning, and it holds true most of all for our particular elementary school. A sheltered place, a good curriculum, a fine arts and music magnet, children from over 40 birth-countries, mothers with more post-graduate degrees than me - all in all, a rare and precious find.
But public school overall? Public school for middle and high school? That choice is another ball of wax altogether. We think we're committed to public school all the way through graduation. We've learned through experience that God isn't very interested in our "commitments", though, so we're open to being turned in a different direction, should He decide that's what's going on. But assuming we've got it right, and the boys are in public school for the long haul: why?
First of all, the options for middle and high school look good. There are two options for middle school other than the one to which we're zoned. We'll be checking both of them out this fall, although if I had to choose today I already have a heavy favorite. We'll also look at where we're zoned; it has a patchy reputation, but it's getting better every year. By the time Two is ready, it may be the easiest choice. For high school, the situation is similar. Our zoned high school has an IB program to apply to, and there is a magnet high school with very high marks that we're very interested in investigating. It may be a better choice than the IB program, especially if the boys aren't interested in playing high school team sports. Basically it guarantees they will be surrounded by more than the average number of what most people would call "dorks", but what I call "good friend material".
All of our public middle and high school options have a varied mix of kids from different ethnic and socio-economic backgrounds, and that is one of the points in their favor. The private schools here tend to be very, very uniform in their composition - and since that's not the environment in which the boys will live when they're grown, I see no reason for them to spend their "formative years" there. To me, one of the big reasons to stick with public school for middle and high school - especially in our large, city district - is that it looks like the city itself. To be perfectly blunt: if my upper-middle class Anglo kids stay in private school for the entire childhoods, they'll be surrounded by other children just. like. them. And they will therefore learn to work with and be friends only with children just. like. them. They will see people of other races and backgrounds - especially people with less than them economically - as different, puzzling, and (perhaps) uncomfortable to be around.
It's entirely my opinion, I know, but I don't think that is much of an education to give them. And as long as the pen-and-paper education at public school meets our expectations, it's not going to be the education they get.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Fine Motors Skills and Boys
When One was beginning 1st grade - 3 1/2 years ago - we were told by his teacher and the lower school principal that "unless we did something about his horrible handwriting, he would fall farther and farther behind his classmates." We were a little confused at the time; he was six, he was a boy, and we didn't think six year old boys were known for their handwriting. But, apparently, it was a major problem for these two women, and he was threatened with falling behind in a class that was already far too easy for him in terms of learning materials. No flexibility was suggested at all; instead what they offered was punitive more than anything else.
What did we do? Well, this was maybe the 5th most important problem we had with the school, so we did what most parents who have already paid way too much in tuition would do: we pulled him out of the school. I home-schooled him that year, and we didn't worry too much about his fine motor skills, at least not while doing school work. I would fill in the addition and subtraction problems that he could do in his head, he would narrate book reports to me while I typed on the laptop, and we did spelling verbally as well. It was a short-term fix, but we didn't want him to miss out on learning because his hands weren't ready to catch up with his brain. In his free time, he participated in sports that involved hand/eye coordination and hand strength: baseball and fencing. He didn't notice that this was helping, but it was.
The next two years? That's when we worked on his motor skills at school as well - it was time for it at that point. He learned cursive in Montessori, and suddenly his handwriting was completely legible. He did a lot of art in Montessori as well, and doing an enjoyable task with his hands - everything from drawing to painting to weaving - was a painless way to build motor skills. He also began to take after school art classes, something that continues to this day. Taekwondo helped his upper body and arm strength, which in turn has helped him write and draw for longer periods of time without tiring.
None of this was really planned by Husband and me, but it has worked wonderfully in helping One to "catch up" on his fine motor skills. Not that I ever really felt there was catching up to do; some skills develop before others, and this was what lagged behind for him. What solved the problem was time, encouragement, and an enjoyable way to work on the skills he lacked. He didn't need us to have a complete parent freak-out when he couldn't print perfectly at 6; he just needed us to keep an eye on things and look for ways to work on the problem whenever we could.
I write this because I know we're not the only parents who have had this message delivered to them. Sometimes it comes in a tone of "go fix this child so we may teach him properly" and sometimes it is delivered more compassionately. Regardless of how the message is conveyed, I would encourage you to trust your instincts as a parent and look for alternative solutions to the perceived problem. If what you've been told seems to you as non-sensical as a 6 year old boy with perfect penmanship seemed to me, do your homework: get some books from the library, read on the internet, talk to some friends with older children. In other words, educate yourself in order to test your initial instincts. If it seems like you may be right, then go with what works.
And while I know he's still no Rembrandt, here's what works for me:
What did we do? Well, this was maybe the 5th most important problem we had with the school, so we did what most parents who have already paid way too much in tuition would do: we pulled him out of the school. I home-schooled him that year, and we didn't worry too much about his fine motor skills, at least not while doing school work. I would fill in the addition and subtraction problems that he could do in his head, he would narrate book reports to me while I typed on the laptop, and we did spelling verbally as well. It was a short-term fix, but we didn't want him to miss out on learning because his hands weren't ready to catch up with his brain. In his free time, he participated in sports that involved hand/eye coordination and hand strength: baseball and fencing. He didn't notice that this was helping, but it was.
The next two years? That's when we worked on his motor skills at school as well - it was time for it at that point. He learned cursive in Montessori, and suddenly his handwriting was completely legible. He did a lot of art in Montessori as well, and doing an enjoyable task with his hands - everything from drawing to painting to weaving - was a painless way to build motor skills. He also began to take after school art classes, something that continues to this day. Taekwondo helped his upper body and arm strength, which in turn has helped him write and draw for longer periods of time without tiring.
None of this was really planned by Husband and me, but it has worked wonderfully in helping One to "catch up" on his fine motor skills. Not that I ever really felt there was catching up to do; some skills develop before others, and this was what lagged behind for him. What solved the problem was time, encouragement, and an enjoyable way to work on the skills he lacked. He didn't need us to have a complete parent freak-out when he couldn't print perfectly at 6; he just needed us to keep an eye on things and look for ways to work on the problem whenever we could.
I write this because I know we're not the only parents who have had this message delivered to them. Sometimes it comes in a tone of "go fix this child so we may teach him properly" and sometimes it is delivered more compassionately. Regardless of how the message is conveyed, I would encourage you to trust your instincts as a parent and look for alternative solutions to the perceived problem. If what you've been told seems to you as non-sensical as a 6 year old boy with perfect penmanship seemed to me, do your homework: get some books from the library, read on the internet, talk to some friends with older children. In other words, educate yourself in order to test your initial instincts. If it seems like you may be right, then go with what works.
And while I know he's still no Rembrandt, here's what works for me:
Sunday, December 6, 2009
78 vs 95: or Why Two and Numbers Make No Sense
We receive the results of the boys "gifted and talented" applications last week from our school district. One made it into "g/t" by the skin of his teeth (I can speculate why, but won't right now), but Two? Two bombed. Stank. Crashed and burned. Not only did he refuse to do ALL 140 problems on the Stanford reading test, he blew off the Naglieri test to the point of generating a score of 78. Yes, 78. Since the Naglieri score is supposed to equate to one's IQ, that would mean that Two has an IQ of 78. Or, as one book puts it, a score that leaves him unqualified to dig ditches.
Do I think these tests are generally accurate? Sure. Do I think Two has an IQ of 78, or anything closely related to that number? Hell no. When questioned by Husband and me, Two confessed to finding all the testing uninteresting and to daydreaming through the entire process.
Which leaves me with this: a six year old who is so bored by an IQ test he blows it off.
Can you say "rip your hair out in frustration moment?" I can.
He likes school. He likes to learn. He gets good grades: he has a 95% average. I read with him every night, and he reads Magic Treehouse books well out loud. He's not reading at the level that One was at this age, but he's better at guessing and sounding words out correctly than One ever was. Both boys do supplemental math at home (more on that in another post) and he's breezing through the Grade 1 Singapore Math workbook without any help from me. He's also the creative child: his after-school art teacher finds him easy to teach and good at everything he tries. He designs and builds elaborate objects out of what he digs out of the recycling bin and copious amounts of duct tape. He sings well. He's good at sports: his taekwondo master says, that while Two is prone to not being fully present when he doesn't want to be, when he does give things 100%, he rocks. Backed up by the fact that he's kept up belt-wise with his three-year-older brother for almost 18 months now, I believe it. He's also the mechanically minded child; he undertstands how things work without explanation, and when he doesn't understand, he's delighted to take something apart just to see how it works.
So what's his deal? Did he mess up on one test, or does he have an intelligence that is hard to measure - one that his father and I can see quite clearly, but doesn't show up on standardized tests? I'm at a complete loss. Totally puzzled by the whole thing.
Anyone have a clue what to do with this crazy child? Input much appreciated.
For now, I'll just continue to tickle him, read with him, answer his innumerable questions, snuggle him, and enjoy the joy that is my irrepressible six year old. Because when it comes down to it, who can resist this?
Do I think these tests are generally accurate? Sure. Do I think Two has an IQ of 78, or anything closely related to that number? Hell no. When questioned by Husband and me, Two confessed to finding all the testing uninteresting and to daydreaming through the entire process.
Which leaves me with this: a six year old who is so bored by an IQ test he blows it off.
Can you say "rip your hair out in frustration moment?" I can.
He likes school. He likes to learn. He gets good grades: he has a 95% average. I read with him every night, and he reads Magic Treehouse books well out loud. He's not reading at the level that One was at this age, but he's better at guessing and sounding words out correctly than One ever was. Both boys do supplemental math at home (more on that in another post) and he's breezing through the Grade 1 Singapore Math workbook without any help from me. He's also the creative child: his after-school art teacher finds him easy to teach and good at everything he tries. He designs and builds elaborate objects out of what he digs out of the recycling bin and copious amounts of duct tape. He sings well. He's good at sports: his taekwondo master says, that while Two is prone to not being fully present when he doesn't want to be, when he does give things 100%, he rocks. Backed up by the fact that he's kept up belt-wise with his three-year-older brother for almost 18 months now, I believe it. He's also the mechanically minded child; he undertstands how things work without explanation, and when he doesn't understand, he's delighted to take something apart just to see how it works.
So what's his deal? Did he mess up on one test, or does he have an intelligence that is hard to measure - one that his father and I can see quite clearly, but doesn't show up on standardized tests? I'm at a complete loss. Totally puzzled by the whole thing.
Anyone have a clue what to do with this crazy child? Input much appreciated.
For now, I'll just continue to tickle him, read with him, answer his innumerable questions, snuggle him, and enjoy the joy that is my irrepressible six year old. Because when it comes down to it, who can resist this?
Friday, November 13, 2009
School Days
Some random pictures from around school - we're still loving it and the boys are doing great.
Another cool clock, to go with the one outside:
The unofficial Chinese Mom's Club - they wait here every day for dismissal. Love the parasol.
Beautiful geometric front gates:
Marching home
Red is such a school color, isn't it?
Pretty:
We had conferences today and all is well. It's refreshing to know that Two is just as stubborn at school as he is at home, and his teacher thinks it's a riot and just rolls right over him anyway. And he loves her for it. One's teacher is the first he's had who emphasizes to us that he is so smart, which is also fresh air. She also knows he's a stubborn, prickly, exacting grouch at times, and she, too, likes him anyway. Such a good start to the year!
Another cool clock, to go with the one outside:
The unofficial Chinese Mom's Club - they wait here every day for dismissal. Love the parasol.
Beautiful geometric front gates:
Marching home
Red is such a school color, isn't it?
Pretty:
We had conferences today and all is well. It's refreshing to know that Two is just as stubborn at school as he is at home, and his teacher thinks it's a riot and just rolls right over him anyway. And he loves her for it. One's teacher is the first he's had who emphasizes to us that he is so smart, which is also fresh air. She also knows he's a stubborn, prickly, exacting grouch at times, and she, too, likes him anyway. Such a good start to the year!
Visualize World Peace
One of the most recent projects in One's 4th grade class was based on a book found by his teacher - A Million Vision of Peace. Inspired by the book, Ms. O had One and his fellow 4th graders draw a picture of how they saw "peace".
My first question to One when he told me he'd completed this project was "did you draw a Marine?" No, explained One patiently. "I was going for something that wouldn't make Ms. O have a fit."
(Translation: "Mom, you are so difficult sometimes!")
"Well?" I asked. And then he told me. And so, here is what he came up with instead:
Obviously, my fourth grader rocks. Big. time.
And Ms. O loved it, too, by the way. As I knew she would.
My first question to One when he told me he'd completed this project was "did you draw a Marine?" No, explained One patiently. "I was going for something that wouldn't make Ms. O have a fit."
(Translation: "Mom, you are so difficult sometimes!")
"Well?" I asked. And then he told me. And so, here is what he came up with instead:
Obviously, my fourth grader rocks. Big. time.
And Ms. O loved it, too, by the way. As I knew she would.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Math: What I'm Not Having a Trauma About this Week
Now that we have mostly settled into school, things we'd rather not think about have begun crawling out of the closet. Chief among them: how One happens to be an entire year behind in math, thanks to Montessori math strangeness and my utter refusal to listen to two years of my overly patient husband suggesting "I really think we need to get him a little extra help in math."
Sigh. Can I be a little bit thicker? I do wonder sometimes ...
So despite the fact I swore a solemn vow (while in the throes of homeschooling fervor three years ago) that I would tutor my own children if they needed extra help, I am checking out remedial math options like Mathnasium to find which program will help our strange little ex-Montessorian. He is missing (a rough estimate I put together this past weekend):
-- adding and subtracting money
-- ditto for weights and measures (okay, he doesn't even know that 16oz = 1lb)
-- fraction addition and subtraction
-- any ability at all with word problems
-- most geometry
-- any idea how to take a test or where grades come from
What did he do his entire third grade year, you ask? Math every day, of course. Multiplication. Every. Single. Day. Nothing else worth mentioning.
I love it when things are my fault. I love making work for others, especially when they're small and they trust me to not do such things to begin with. I love it ... I just love it to pieces.
Sigh. Can I be a little bit thicker? I do wonder sometimes ...
So despite the fact I swore a solemn vow (while in the throes of homeschooling fervor three years ago) that I would tutor my own children if they needed extra help, I am checking out remedial math options like Mathnasium to find which program will help our strange little ex-Montessorian. He is missing (a rough estimate I put together this past weekend):
-- adding and subtracting money
-- ditto for weights and measures (okay, he doesn't even know that 16oz = 1lb)
-- fraction addition and subtraction
-- any ability at all with word problems
-- most geometry
-- any idea how to take a test or where grades come from
What did he do his entire third grade year, you ask? Math every day, of course. Multiplication. Every. Single. Day. Nothing else worth mentioning.
I love it when things are my fault. I love making work for others, especially when they're small and they trust me to not do such things to begin with. I love it ... I just love it to pieces.
Sunday, August 2, 2009
We're Done!
Well, it's done. We've made our decision, and the boys are off to public school in three weeks. I'm making my registration appointment in the morning and dropping off the withdrawal letter at our private school on my way to work. We've even told the boys and taken them for a walk around the campus. Two took it completely in stride; he is pretty much the same everywhere he goes. He'll do well academically while driving his teachers crazy with his stubborness, and have ten new best friends by the end of September. One cried for the loss of his best friend, but otherwise didn't have anything to say to argue against the change. He will pout more as the days pass, and there will be more tears, but I'm pretty sure once he adjusts that the school will be a good fit.
I am so relieved to have the decision over and done with! Thanks to all of you for your comments, emails and encouragement!
I am so relieved to have the decision over and done with! Thanks to all of you for your comments, emails and encouragement!
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