Foreign Language Requirement

I’m going to come right out and tell you that I know, to varying degrees, a pile of languages.  A pile of five languages.  I was a Japanese major in college for the love of all that is good.  And my joy at the prospect of teaching them to my kids, a long anticipated thrill, has been thwarted.  Four.  Times.  Over. 

One was excused from the Spanish requirement because of his speech issues, one dismissed from the language requirement because of anxiety related to dyslexia, one kid went to a whole school against the learning of foreign languages.  One by one my miniature linguists have slipped through my fingers.  And while it tears me apart a tiny bit I am, in the same breath, thrilled for them because learning a language has been akin to medieval torture.

Actually our entire journey down Learning Disability Lane was kicked off by the study of Hebrew.  And a kid who just couldn’t, no matter what we did, remember the letters or read even a single three letter word that recurred again and again.  There were tears and frustrations and angry stomping to rooms.  There were kit kat rewards and on line games.   And it just didn’t stick.  And what do you know…  Turns out there was a reason for that pain and suffering. 

I’m not kidding about being desperate for my kids to learn another language.  I feel like it expands your mind, introduces you to different parts of the world, changes your perspective.   And so last night in our house you might have come across a crazy scene – the 6 of us sitting on the sofa wildly flailing our arms about with a sign language instructor, possibly laughing her butt off at our tries.  All the while one of my kids shaking his head at me “you are loving this way too much, Mom.” 

I’ll go down trying – you know I'm nothing if not perseverant.  And if it’s not a written or spoken language – it’s gonna be American Sign Language. What the heck, it is the third most used language in the US and it fulfills the college language requirements so why not mine?   Two of the four kids love this adventure.  One even said “finally a language I’m good at”.  One is humiliated.  One is goofy.  One is full of questions.  One is showing off.  One has such performance anxiety that they are hidden behind another.  (I see that’s more than 4 – some are represented more than once, I know…)   

So we are trying this out because of that whole one door closes and another door opens thing.  Or just because I’m stubborn.  Either way – if you see 6 people walking down the street awkwardly practicing the signs for household items and farm animals, that’s us – hitting the homework hard. 

Hats Off to Homeschoolers (who aren't us)

I have an amazing, brilliant wife.   She stepped in as step-mother to four very simple and regular children back in the day when they were simple and regular.  With each successive test or diagnosis she has been unfailingly by my side, willing to do anything to help.  So you get it, I’m lucky beyond reason.  Like I must have saved a whole island of people from starvation in a past life to deserve this gift of a partner and spouse.

I remember the look on her face when we realized that we needed to take our oldest child out of school.  It was clear mostly because that child asked to leave school half way through 6th grade – a school that she loved and was loyal beyond reason to.    She asked tearfully and defeatedly – not in an obnoxious spoiled way.  Her anxiety about academics was through the roof and no combination of meds could control the accompanying outbursts of frustration.  Her best times of the day were when the rest of the class went to PE and she stayed behind and enjoyed quiet.

So that facial expression?  Sort of like a mix of terrified, excited and a sudden bout of nausea.  She pushed down the puke and raised her hand for homeschooling a sixth grader for the second half of the schoolyear while I cried with gratitude.  And we went shopping.  For a homeschool setup, of course!  And books!  And binders!  And a laptop!  We spent a week setting up and tons of cash to fund this new venture.  We had custom t-shirts made in a late night on-line shopping spree.  And, with a great looking school room and an attitude of gold, we launched – me as the planner and grader and support staff, her as the head teacher.

And every single skill that my wife amassed in her life was put to the test, none more than her soccer prowess - dodging and weaving with grace and agility the every day hurdles of a hormonal, mood disordered 6th grader with a learning difference or three.  Field trip Fridays, Cooking Tuesdays, Work-out Wednesdays, Thursday fashion drawing class with the homeschooling community.  She did it all.  But this venture isn’t for the faint of heart.  Our student’s motivation was low, her confidence was shot, her desire to sleep in was high and her interests were low.

Looking in the rear view mirror today I say... enter these hallowed grounds with caution and self-reflection.  You have to have confidence that your kids are getting all that they need to learn, and that you know those things.  You must be dedicated to keeping them social and engaged.  You  must be determined to get them up every single day and get them excited…  And you must above all else be prepared that they will not be bubbling over with gratitude for your efforts.  For these thing we were not totally prepared, I'll admit.

I am exhausted just recalling this roll in the homeschool hay and am grateful for the wonderful traditional school option that 7th grade brought and the incredible opportunity we have to wave goodbye each morning to all four of our kids.  While we declared neither success nor failure at this attempt at homeschooling, we did declare ourselves unfit for a long term version of the task and we did declare all of you who do it with such grace and dignity and still have kids who love you and haven't run away to Australia - basically heroes.

Oh - and in case you are wondering,  I am not even nearly out of gift ideas for the incredible person who gave the gift of her sanity so that the other kids and I may survive only mildly scathed by one heck of a 6th grade year.

*Photo is the ACTUAL shirt we had made.  Yep.  Did that.  Went whole hog.

Homework - A Rant

I hate homework.  So much.  My kids hate it less than I do because they can't conceive of a different option.  But I hate it personally because no matter how much time there is in any given after school day, homework takes too much of that time.  And I really want that time for other things like playing outside or with some friends or a game or reading or drawing or even playing around on a computer and surfing things that I don't want to know about.  I want those things because they are different than what a kid does all day long.  They build some new and different skills like having conversations and filling boring space with fun stuff.  You know, the kind of skills that we all use every single day. 

Practicing what you already spent all day learning and then proving that you learned that all day seems like a mission to lengthen the school day to “all hours available every day” and seems like maybe perhaps kids aren’t learning the really important stuff in a day...  I am in favor of homework that teaches something new or explores a topic that I might not otherwise care to engage in with my kids (like tying a shoe homework or running around after a kid on a bike homework)  but some life skills they are never assigned on that pesky homework agenda.

Before you say "they have to practice what they have learned".... I get that.  And studying and tests and all that.  But I assume that if you have a homework doing kid you have more than once thought that some of that pile of day-stealing work is rubbish.  

So I actually have made in a mini-life mission to find and send my kids to schools with as little rote type homework as humanly possible.   Because I do want to make them uncompetitive with other nations, chiefly.  My mini-mission, if you must know, is pretty much a failure.  For the younger children even in schools that claim no-homework there is most often  something called “here is homework so you get used to doing homework”. For middle aged children there is often something called “see, I told you there would be homework, I’m getting you ready for high school”.  And then for the older child the invariable “life isn’t fair, there is homework everywhere you look in life”.  

I still rage against the homework machine in spite of my miserable failure at its avoidance. Extra credit is my arch enemy, long term projects the bain of my existence, test studying – well that is simply the worst.  Of course, it’s school and I suppose that I have to just resign myself to the fact that kids can’t just come home and spend the evening running around and snuggling with me.  But I’ll make a party out of every last day that we have a homework pass and every single vacation day without a blog entry requirement.  I know it’s education and stuff but I’ll go down working to skirt homework as much for my own gain as theirs  
– just you watch.

Crap Philosophy - On Toilet Training

Sorry if you were the person that I just told this exact same thing to.  It’s easy to lose track when you have like one idea string that you share over and over.  Here are the highlights so that you don’t have to read the whole thing.  Basically, potty training or toilet learning or whatever you want to call it is as developmental as walking.  You wouldn’t bribe a kid to walk to you with an M&M or be mad when they tripped and fell.  Because they just weren’t quite ready to walk.  

 

And everyone knows that walking is something that happens around 1 year old.  And proper toilet usage around 3 years old.  You know – some kids walk at 9 months.  And some kids have completely functional sphincters at 2-1/2.  Mine were not those kids and I personally have sported the milestone-jealousy that comes with kids meeting milestones a little late.

And so I bought books.  Some with stickers, ballerinas, bears, princesses, princess bears, ballerina bears… well, you get the idea, all of them learned to used the toilet.  I even shared my own yellowed,  ancient potty training book from when I was a young lass.   Also I bought potties. Ones that sing, ones that cheer, ones that have princesses and ballerinas…  I’m not kidding you – this doesn’t include the potty seats or the pee targets for the boys.  Target adores me.  

By the time I got to the third child, I began to wonder at all of this.  Why so many products?  Why so many approaches and bribes and expert opinions?  Why are there 20 Dora’s under my kid’s butt?  And why are so many of these products really gross?  Like the little potty that you sit on and poop in.  And that doesn’t come including, and apparently doesn’t even have sold separately, the fairy to clean it out.  I finally realized that there is an industry–a big huge industry around WC Education.  Because it’s gross.  And everyone wants to be done with diapers as soon as humanly possible.  And everyone wants to make it cute.  Adorable and expeditious is the goal, totally and precisely what you think about when considering the restroom, no?  

What other milestone could you brand and publish and make people feel ashamed for not joining in on?  Ummm… there are none.  No physical milestone or social or emotional or academic…  Nope.  None.  Shame is the hallmark of the bathroom – do you love to use public restrooms?  Probably not.  So… how to possibly teach the ways of the toilet without shaming our kids?  

I vote for this:  chill out and let them lead.  If they want a singing toilet that comes with a cleanup fairy and you are willing to be that fairy, go for it.  If the princess book looks awesome (where they actually cheer yay for #1 and #2 and there is a punch out crown for the kid to wear and add a jewel every time they use they potty), go with it.  But let them lead – like walking or climbing or reading.  Don’t rush.  Don’t overbuy, don’t compare and contrast and if you uncover a real issue, the doctor will help.   Last I checked, there are very few kids who are headed off to college in a diaper – it will happen, keep your M&M’s to pair with a cocktail once the munchkin is safely in bed with a pull-up on.  

Don't Be Silly

We are pretty silly around here.  Tickling and hilarious joking.  Chasing and jumping out from behind walls.  We love imagination and crazy games.  We love joke books and witty retorts.  Funny is, well, sort of our thing.  And the other day I said this on the occasion of a young person messing around at the dinner table:  "don't be silly".

And I was completely horrified by my own statement.  Don't be silly?  But I love silly!  I love making endless fun of boring tasks or making a joke to lighten a sad mood.  Silly is my thing and I was staggered, wondering suddenly at how many times I had uttered these words.  Don't be silly.

Once I told my then-second-grader child that it was no longer appropriate to cry in school.  That she needed to keep it together.  That she was simply too old for all of this carrying about.  As soon as I said it I knew that I would never live it down.  I may not have recognized the gravity and extent of "never living it down" that would ensue.

She is now much older and the other day she visited a school counselor on the occasion of an in-school crying jag.  She begged the counselor not to tell me, her own mother about this situation.  This situation is that she has never stopped crying in school.  For no amazing reason other than math is hard and she tripped in PE and other such stuff.  It is exactly what I forbade those many years ago - senseless crying.  What I thought was a reasonable request for a second grader has grown and become a monster set-up for parental disappointment in her mind.  And so she has kept this monster a habitual secret for literally more years of her life than there were prior to its inception.  Crap.

So I watch my words.  Carefully now.  And sometimes, every small once in a while, I listen to my own words and I am aghast to hear them sounding potentially condescending or demeaning or, worst of all, inconsistent.  I know that I'm not alone in this dark parental guilt - don't try to hide.  I also know that it is now confirmed fact that I clearly underestimated the impact of my words.  Oh, and apparently it's far too late to declare myself incompetent to parent - and so forward I push.

I am highly trained in the martial art of messing with my kids.  I tell them to not be silly but then am wildly silly 15 minutes hence.  I tell them to eat slowly or match their clothes and then I turn around and tell them to question societal norms and be themselves.  I tell them not to cry in class, to act their age, to show a little respect.... And these are just things we say - for no real reason except that they seem like the right and best things to say in the moment.  But it would seem that words are more important than we know - they ring in kids heads like that irritating pop song from the morning commute.  So great, now I have one more thing to do in the new Jewish year of 5775 - get back to being silly instead of condemning silly.  Anyone else?  I'll kick off the support group.