How did I create the problems that Charlie has had in school since he was in first grade?
Because I believed in them.
Simple as that.
Oh, if only we could do a do-over on this one! What would I do differently? I would just believe that he was capable of fitting in, capable of being the square peg in a round hole, believing that ALL children can get SOMETHING out of a public school education, no matter how imperfect it is.
I had been priming the pump for years before any of my kids went to school. I had done several interviews with people in the education field, and they just ignited something inside me that did not go away, oh no! One woman went on and on and on about how badly boys were treated in the public school system (I didn't even HAVE a boy at the time, but let me tell you, I was determined with a passion that MY BOY would not experience anything negative.)
Uncanny, is it not?
The only thing that I had to draw on of my own personal experiences was less-than-inspiring teachers as I grew older. I had fabulous elementary school teachers. My first grade teacher was this young sweet blonde woman who began the year as Miss Paquette. Then she got married. I can feel, as though it was yesterday, how sad I felt when she left for a week to get married and have a honeymoon, and when she returned she wrote her new name on the board:
MRS. DICK.
(Do you think that that is why I have never changed my name? Could be. Perhaps I was permanently scarred by this one event.) Mrs. Dick. That name could not come out of my mouth, so I continued to call her Miss Paquette. Everyone did at first, but then they started saying, Miss Paw ... I mean Mrs. Dick. And I thought, I hate that name! That is an awful name. I won't use it! I remember her laughing at the end of the year and saying to me, "I know you know my name, you're too smart not to." She got me.
Second and third grades were not as memorable as fourth grade, when I had my first MAN teacher. Mr. Beliveau. He was so nice, I loved him. And he encouraged us all to sing in class, he loved singing. I remember one of my projects was to create a song about books. I sang, "Read, Read A book," to the tune of "Sing, sing a song, make it special to last your whole life long, don't worry if it's not that good enough, for anyone else to hear .... just sing, sing a song." Read, read a book, make it special to last your whole life long, don't worry if it's not long enough, everyone wants to hear, just read, read a book." (Guess it did last, huh?)
In fifth grade we moved to a new school and I had Mrs. Stafford. Oh, she was awesome. I decided that I wanted to change my name (doesn't everyone?) and so I decided I was Liz. And she went right along with it, and started calling me Liz (I of course wrote that on all of my papers) and when anyone else in the class made fun of me or said they wanted to change their name, she would say "fine, but you have to really mean it."
Yeah. You have to really mean it. (Though, I remember I was sick of the name Liz and felt bad that I wanted to change my name back, because she'd been so supportive of it.) But I just started writing Lisa on my papers and she never made mention of it. SO NICE.
Anyway, let's just say it's fairly simple to see that I wasn't scarred through a less-than-positive school career. I became less tolerant of the restrictions of school in junior high and began to exercise my right to be a pain in the ass. But even then there were plenty of teachers who never got frustrated with me. And while I really hated high school for the most part, it still wasn't sheer, torturous hell. And I think the reason that I felt so strongly about my kids going to private high school comes from just one event:
It was in a class where it was about acting, but you didn't act that much. I don't remember the name, but you learned techniques about relaxing and getting geared up for a role and so on. So finally one day we did this free form exercise where we were all in a circle and one person stood up and started talking, then when the teacher gave the signal, another person would stand up and take up where that person had left off -- but you could go anywhere with it. I remember thinking THIS is that I signed up for! Something fun. (It had been class after class of discussing this and discussing that, so boring I thought I was going to die) and then suddenly, we were moving and it was exciting and people were so good!
When it came to my turn, I remember I stood up and I don't recall what the person before me had done, but I was Mr. Rogers, and I started singing "It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood..." and I took off my sweater and my shoes, then put on my other sweater, and started to feed the fish, then the next person was up, and they continued with the Mr. Rogers theme, and so on, all of us just dying at the recall that we all had of Mr. Rogers.
Well. As soon as the last person had gone, still being Mr. Rogers, the teacher was quiet for a bit, then she said that the whole purpose of the exercise had been about being creative and spontaneous, whereas half of us had done the same thing.
The energy of the room went from the ceiling to the basement in seconds, and we all deflated like the pierced balloons we were and put nothing into the subsequent exercises.
After class the teacher asked me to stay, and she wanted to compliment me -- she said I had really "come out of my shell," and she hoped to see more of that. I just stared at her. I had just spent the rest of the class hating her guts for being such a mean-spirited bitch. Who CARED what the exercise was about. Didn't she get the idea of the whole damn class, which was to stir up creative juices? Here, right before her eyes juices had flowed like a geyser, and the first thing she did was throw a cork in it. I was D O N E.
And somehow, I took that negative energy and mixed it in with what the woman who told me all the things I WOULDN'T BE ABLE TO DO with my kids regarding school, and well. Don't challenge me ... or else!
So silly. Imagine what life might have been like if that one teacher had let Mr. Rogers be okay! Such tiny little instances that can lay the foundation for something that gets bigger and bigger and then takes on a life of its own.
For what? :::::::::::shrug::::::::::::::::
I can't answer that. In none of my internal rantings and ravings, in none of the letters I have written over the years, in NOTHING that has taken place in the 18 years I've had a child in public school have I ever found peace. Why?
Because I wanted it to be that way to prove that I was right. Right about what?
Exactly.
In sixth grade I had a crazy teacher. Everyone said she was crazy. Everyone. My parents, other parents, other teachers. She was crazy. But ... she was also harmless, they said. And old. She would leave one day.
She mostly told us about what happened at her house. Not very exciting stuff. Like what she had for dinner, what the cats had been up to. The weather. What her husband was wearing. You know, the usual sixth-grade fare. She had one of those amorphous bodies where you were never quite sure what you were looking at. Her boobs or her knees? Her stomach or her elbow? There were folds of flesh for all the world to see, for she mostly wore sleeveless, shapeless dresses. Her husband dropped her off at the door and she walked the length of one classroom down the hall to her door on the right. Her husband picked her up after school, at the door. She didn't get much exercise.
Of course we were bored. We all got A's for breathing, and we learned absolutely nothing. Fortunately we changed classes for math, so it wasn't a full day of mind-numbing nothingness. But still. I was harmed! And I think that started my "You have got to be kidding me, if you don't teach, how can you be a teacher," crusade. I can't tell you how many times I've heard "she is in the middle of a divorce," "Her husband is cheating on her," "She has been really sick," "She is ready to go, maybe another year," and so on.
Now. If I hadn't been 12, maybe I would have had more compassion for my sixth grade teacher. It was her life, coming and hanging with her kids. She loved us, I will give her that. But these teachers are in all schools. Why?
Why?
I believe in change and progress and stagnation and the excuse "that's everywhere," makes me bonkers. But the thing is, you can't get away from stagnation if you are thinking about it! And suddenly you see burnt out teachers flowing out of the woodwork (if you are looking for them.)
I had a meeting recently with one of Charlie's teachers and I went in with NO expectations good or bad. I went in to meet with her fully present, open to an exchange taking place that did not dwell on things of the past. It went well and I hope that things improve for both of them and that they work in tandem to reach the goal of Charlie being a successful student and understanding that the intent of the teacher is to teach him (as opposed to his perception that they hate him, are out to ruin his day, etc.)
In my previous post where I discussed "pinging," and how these words and sounds come back to me on a daily basis, it occurred to me that on Charlie's first day of school he went into a classroom where about half already knew how to read. This was the overachiever (parent's mostly!) teacher of choice and while I was NEVER into requesting teachers and did not do so, somehow Charlie ended up in this class despite the fact that she was highly requested.
Anyway, she was a wonderful woman and loved Charlie, but she did him irreparable harm in those early days by comparing him to a girl who was a full year older than he was and who was reading War and Peace. (Why ruin a good story by stating facts?) Not comparing him side by side, but by pointing out that there were children in the class who were excellent readers, therefore he needed to go to the reading recovery program. Huh? (Charlie knew who she was talking about, believe me, and I said, oh, she's a firstborn, they're always early readers, don't worry honey, you're not SUPPOSED to be able to read.) Hell, that would have worked for me if someone had said that to me! Oh, phew, not SUPPOSED to read, okay, then I'll learn. But he's not me, oh no no no no no no no! (Probably think this blog is about me ....) Yeah. Self-esteem issues ... so not me.
I didn't know what to look for! I had a first-born War and Peace reader, I had a second-born who didn't read but could read a paragraph from any book and do a 12-page book report based purely on BS. Hey, whatever works, I wasn't looking for that either and it took me years before I realized she had done the SAME book report every year. Tsk Tsk Tsk!
So when my third child went to school, I was not concerned that he would feel like a failure from day one. Nope, didn't even enter my mind. But that is what happened and he gets pinged with that, and then that becomes his reality.
It's all so crazy. But it underscores how important it is to make sure our children receive an education that won't harm them for the rest of their lives! Sound extreme? It's because it is! Why is it okay to have classrooms full of kids who are on such extreme levels of ability? When I taught skiing, we would take a group of kids to the top of the hill and have them ski to us. We would break them up into groups according to ability.
Why? Because if you have a snow plower mixed in with a group of fast skiers, everyone has to ski the pace of the snow plower. Does that make sense?
Had Charlie gone into a first grade classroom where no one knew how to read, he wouldn't have been singled out because of his handicap. (It's NOT a handicap not to know how to read in first grade, but he thought it was because in his mind EVERYONE knew how to read but him. True? Absolutely not, but perception is all you've got to work with most of the time.) This is crazy important, it really is. Think how much more stream-lined learning would be if kids were placed into classes where they were all on the same page. Charlie's greatest problem with kids in school are with those that have "issues." Why?
Because he doesn't get it! As easily as I can dismiss the War and Peace readers as no big deal, he can NOT dismiss kids he perceives to be just the same as him, though they have aides or accommodations that address their particular needs. Do I think all these kids should be in the same class? You bet I do. I know that the parent's of these children wouldn't agree with me, but it just creates a class of snow plowers across the board. No one child learns the same, so find the ones that learn similarly and teach to them in that fashion.
AAAARGH. Wait a minute ... I am returning to the place where I think I can institute change. I am stating unpopular opinions which will only upset people and create more negative energy that will be charged and swirl about the universe and do none of us any good.
So, what does one dooooooooooooooooooooooo?
I don't know! That is why I am running away. I'll let you know if that helps!
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