Reserving Judgment
I have to learn to slow down. I have to learn to breath deeply, count to ten, and wait to pass judgment.
We woke up this morning earlier than we have in weeks to meet with the woman who turned out to be the head of the special education programming at my son's new school, and the principal and the head of general studies. This followed calls the previous night to our friend, the head of kindergarten and first grade curricula at my son's old school in San Antonio, who, coincidentally, used to teach at the school in Chicago. We called our friend because she had taught my son in kindergarten and had she also worked with the woman who was making me see red. I figured she could give us some insight into what was going on.
What followed was a game of musical phones. We called our friend who called the special education administrator who called us, and then we called our friend again, etc.
It was an absurd dance between neurotic parents, an intense New Yorker, and a calm smiling friend in between. She set us all straight. To the anxious parents she assured us that the special education administrator was top-notch, a great educator, a kind-hearted person, and not the negative burn-out I had imagined. I suspect she told the administrator to be more positive and gentle with us. We were, afterall, fresh off the boat from genteel, laid-back San Antonio.
The upshot was a more positive, conciliatory tone. My boy's admirable attributes were addressed first, a description of the current class dynamics followed, and suggestions and strategies for dealing with my creative but absent-minded blossom were exchanged. We all left happy and relieved. He is in a good place where he will be loved, nurtured, encouraged, and enriched.
I learned several important lessons here. Back in San Antonio, I used to go walking with my friends late at night, when the temperatures had dropped from 104 to a cool, breezy 98 degrees. These walks were always part exercise, part therapy, and part life coaching for each other. One of the main topics covered on our evening strolls, after we tackled the ups and downs of marriage, disciplining our children, and problems at work, was our children's education.
Jewish parents are rarely satisfied with their children's education. The secular studies are never strong enough, the Jewish content is never religious enough, or else it's too religious. The teachers never challenge our kids enough, or they push them too hard. We're a tough crowd to please.
As an educator and the wife of a former Jewish Day School administrator/teacher, I always tried to be a voice of reason.
The teachers are professionals, they're doing the best they can. I would counsel.
Parents have to take an active role in their kid's education. Talk to your child's teacher! I would advise. She's on your side!
The teacher only sees your child in the classroom, she doesn't know what he's like at home. Give her a chance, talk to her. I would suggest.
Did I listen to my advice?
Are you nuts? This is my son we're talking about! In the end, my sage advice turned out to be pretty good. I just wish I had listened to it before going off half-cocked.
Genteel, laid-back San Antonians, indeed.
I'm also learning to keep my opinions to myself, although this is much harder lesson to internalize. Opinions, like sorority girls, get around. We are a nation of instant opiners. With very little information, we pass down judgments with authority and certainty, rarely letting the facts get in the way, if we ever bother to find them.
Hence, the popularity of blogs.
And thanks to those blogs, those half-comprehended opinions expressed with the confidence of the blissfully ill-informed, are laid out for the world to see. All of this is my way of saying I'm sorry to anyone who happens to chance upon my writings only to find a less-than-flattering description of themselves.
And please don't call me "mom"!
* * *
You're not going to believe this, but I went shopping for school supplies for my children for the first time today. In San Antonio, the parent-teacher organization in my son's school always took care of that, although I'm not sure why. I just appreciated not having to do it myself.
I appreciate it even more now.
I dragged my three tired, hungry kids out in the rain today, fed them a donut (kosher Dunkin' Donuts, my friends!), and spent close to two hours hauling them around Target to find an endless list of specific demands: 12 pocket folders (with prongs or not?) in specific colors (No orange or white! What am I to do?), 2 boxes of 24 crayons (they only have 16 and 48!), a clear ruler (can it be a clear blue?), 2 pink erasers (is that more of a burgundy? Will the teacher know the difference?), 2 pencil sharpeners with tops, 6 yellow highlighters (2nd graders highlight?), hand soap, tissues, markers and colored pencils, a yellow spiral notebook, Polaroid 600 Series (not the 500 series, and certainly not the 700 series) film. One would think these were ubiquitous items in a store prior to the beginning of the school year. One would be wrong.
"I really need this."
You need a pink fake-fur lined cellphone/MP3 carrier?
Atilla-the-baby kept trying to Houdini her way out of the shopping cart. If I turned my back on her for a second, I'd hear a shriek of delight as she prepared to leap from four feet off the ground.
My son, trying to be helpful, kept grabbing things off the shelf and asking,"Is this on my list?"
No, I don't think $400 graphing calculators are on the second grade list. Please be careful putting it back.
As the baby started a very loud and kinetic melt-down, the cash register rang up and up and up. Who knew school supplies could cost as much as a few months of private school tuition?
* * *
I don't know who had more fun!
We woke up this morning earlier than we have in weeks to meet with the woman who turned out to be the head of the special education programming at my son's new school, and the principal and the head of general studies. This followed calls the previous night to our friend, the head of kindergarten and first grade curricula at my son's old school in San Antonio, who, coincidentally, used to teach at the school in Chicago. We called our friend because she had taught my son in kindergarten and had she also worked with the woman who was making me see red. I figured she could give us some insight into what was going on.
What followed was a game of musical phones. We called our friend who called the special education administrator who called us, and then we called our friend again, etc.
It was an absurd dance between neurotic parents, an intense New Yorker, and a calm smiling friend in between. She set us all straight. To the anxious parents she assured us that the special education administrator was top-notch, a great educator, a kind-hearted person, and not the negative burn-out I had imagined. I suspect she told the administrator to be more positive and gentle with us. We were, afterall, fresh off the boat from genteel, laid-back San Antonio.
The upshot was a more positive, conciliatory tone. My boy's admirable attributes were addressed first, a description of the current class dynamics followed, and suggestions and strategies for dealing with my creative but absent-minded blossom were exchanged. We all left happy and relieved. He is in a good place where he will be loved, nurtured, encouraged, and enriched.
I learned several important lessons here. Back in San Antonio, I used to go walking with my friends late at night, when the temperatures had dropped from 104 to a cool, breezy 98 degrees. These walks were always part exercise, part therapy, and part life coaching for each other. One of the main topics covered on our evening strolls, after we tackled the ups and downs of marriage, disciplining our children, and problems at work, was our children's education.
Jewish parents are rarely satisfied with their children's education. The secular studies are never strong enough, the Jewish content is never religious enough, or else it's too religious. The teachers never challenge our kids enough, or they push them too hard. We're a tough crowd to please.
As an educator and the wife of a former Jewish Day School administrator/teacher, I always tried to be a voice of reason.
The teachers are professionals, they're doing the best they can. I would counsel.
Parents have to take an active role in their kid's education. Talk to your child's teacher! I would advise. She's on your side!
The teacher only sees your child in the classroom, she doesn't know what he's like at home. Give her a chance, talk to her. I would suggest.
Did I listen to my advice?
Are you nuts? This is my son we're talking about! In the end, my sage advice turned out to be pretty good. I just wish I had listened to it before going off half-cocked.
Genteel, laid-back San Antonians, indeed.
I'm also learning to keep my opinions to myself, although this is much harder lesson to internalize. Opinions, like sorority girls, get around. We are a nation of instant opiners. With very little information, we pass down judgments with authority and certainty, rarely letting the facts get in the way, if we ever bother to find them.
Hence, the popularity of blogs.
And thanks to those blogs, those half-comprehended opinions expressed with the confidence of the blissfully ill-informed, are laid out for the world to see. All of this is my way of saying I'm sorry to anyone who happens to chance upon my writings only to find a less-than-flattering description of themselves.
And please don't call me "mom"!
* * *
You're not going to believe this, but I went shopping for school supplies for my children for the first time today. In San Antonio, the parent-teacher organization in my son's school always took care of that, although I'm not sure why. I just appreciated not having to do it myself.
I appreciate it even more now.
I dragged my three tired, hungry kids out in the rain today, fed them a donut (kosher Dunkin' Donuts, my friends!), and spent close to two hours hauling them around Target to find an endless list of specific demands: 12 pocket folders (with prongs or not?) in specific colors (No orange or white! What am I to do?), 2 boxes of 24 crayons (they only have 16 and 48!), a clear ruler (can it be a clear blue?), 2 pink erasers (is that more of a burgundy? Will the teacher know the difference?), 2 pencil sharpeners with tops, 6 yellow highlighters (2nd graders highlight?), hand soap, tissues, markers and colored pencils, a yellow spiral notebook, Polaroid 600 Series (not the 500 series, and certainly not the 700 series) film. One would think these were ubiquitous items in a store prior to the beginning of the school year. One would be wrong.
Meanwhile, my 4-year old princess kept disappearing only to come back with various Dora, Cinderella, or ballerina-themed toys, clothes, and school supplies she found. The big brown eyes would open wide, and she would say in a teeny-tiny voice,
"I really need this."
You need a pink fake-fur lined cellphone/MP3 carrier?
My son, trying to be helpful, kept grabbing things off the shelf and asking,"Is this on my list?"
No, I don't think $400 graphing calculators are on the second grade list. Please be careful putting it back.
* * *
My son was invited to birthday party today. He made a friend at the playground three days after we moved. I made a friend, too. It was a great party with balloons, crafts projects, a sarcastic magician, pizza, cake, and lots of moms to meet.
I don't know who had more fun!
posted by law school widow at 1:57 AM
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