Photo by D Sharon Pruitt, flickr
But the pressure to always be working is hard to resist, even when it comes to my kid. And the fact that my kid tends to forget stuff that doesn’t engage him… well, maybe I should prepare a few summer lesson plans, just in case.
On the other hand, perhaps I should declare an unschooling summer, more impressive-sounding than “we’re not doing anything this summer.” Because really, that’s what my kid wants–a few months to do nothing. In reality, that means skateboarding, tracking weather, building stuff from random wood scraps. The kind of activities that produce new knowledge and great summer memories, but whose benefits aren’t measured by standardized tests.
How’s your summer shaping up?
I believe that book reports are a true test of parental ambition. Sure it’s supposed to be the student’s book report, but then we’ve also overheard teachers dissing those slacker parents who aren’t actively involved in their kid’s school work. “You can always tell,” they’ll sigh, with a hint of disdain for the clumsy project before them.
And what parent can’t resist helping? A dab of glue there, a few facts thrown in here… nothing over-the-top, like the suspiciously polished display created by the kid with a scrapbook-obsessed professional marketing mom.
Yet I found myself nagging DJ about his book report. A lot. Not just to start it, but to do it right. To dig deeper into the book’s meaning. And finally, to finish the damn thing. In the end, it felt as much like it was my book report as it was his, at least in terms of emotional investment.
I wondered if I should step back. Let him fail if necessary. After all, he’s in 5th grade and it was just a book report, not a freakin’ entrance exam. But then what would that say about me, as a parent?
Have you ever sat back and allowed your kid to fail? In hindsight, was it the right thing to do?
A friend of mine, one of those friends who has cats not kids, recently said to me: “You know what? You’ve become a martyr mom.”
She wasn’t being mean at all. She and I had recently gotten back in touch, and she was merely reflecting on who I used to be, before the never-ending obsessions about school, activities, enrichment and all that other kid-stuff took over. And she was right.
That’s the cruel irony with me — even as I defend my kid’s right to be just ordinary, not some high-achieving wunderkind, I fall so easily into the perfect-mommy-trap myself.
I don’t demand perfection yet I want my kid’s life to be perfect, giving him access to every possible opportunity out there. I dont’ pressure him to max out his potential, yet I beat myself up at the notion that I may be shortchanging that potential.
So I’ve decided to refocus some of my attention on myself, allowing myself to become more of an ordinary mom, perhaps even a slacker mom. Like the mom I met not so long ago at a school open house who couldn’t tell me much about her daughter’s classroom beyond this: “I drop her off in the morning, pick her up in the afternoon, and she seems happy. That’s good enough for me.”
I’m still smarting from a meeting yesterday with my son’s fifth grade teacher. I always walk out of these wanting to throw up my hands and scream, “I give up!”
Despite my master’s degree and above-average knowledge of current educational theories, despite my research background that demands evidence to back any opinion, and despite recent test results by a highly-regarded school psychologist that say–guess what–my kid is solidly average, not below, not above… despite all of this, dealing with a pissed-off teacher can quickly reduce me to feeling like a stupid mom with a stupid kid.
I should have expected it. I was there to discuss my concerns about student behavior more fit for Lord of the Flies than school. No wonder, then, that the teacher brought his own ammunition. My son’s solid academic progress, as previously reported by the teacher, had suddenly disintegrated into a litany of concerns and deficiencies. If the other kids were out-of-control hoodlums, well then my son would be the kid in the corner with the dunce cap on. Or so the conversation seemed to go.
After the meeting, my son caught me in the hallway. He was happy that I met with the teacher to talk about bullying and other social problems among his classmates.
“How did it go?” he asked.
“Fine,” I replied with a brave smile.
But I’m really not so sure that’s true.
When I was a kid, it was acceptable to be just okay at school. This was back before those “My child is an honor student” bumper stickers started showing up everywhere. Back when gifted kids were the anomaly, not the norm. Before No Child Left Behind and the testing frenzy that drives our public schools.
Nowadays, academically-average, ordinary kids are often targeted for intervention, especially if they’re at high-performing schools that are deeply invested in maintaining high test scores.
Most of my son’s peers work at one grade level above (and yes, it’s a “regular” class, not gifted ed). Despite their high achievement, these kids also use private tutors to stay ahead of the pack. Their parents love to “complain” about the fact that when their kids reach middle school, they are bored because they are just so advanced. Gee, ya think?
Throw an ordinary kid at grade level into the mix, like my own son, and you can imagine how he sticks out. Worst of all, he doesn’t see the other kids as being advanced, but rather sees himself as being behind.
How much intervention does my son need? That’s the dilemma within our family as well as with his teachers. We want him to have a strong academic foundation, but honestly, I don’t care whether he outperforms 98% of kids his age.
Are we doing him a disservice by not pushing for a straight-A report card? Is it okay for a kid to just be average in school?
What do you think?
