#MomFail
Posted on November 15th, 2012
I’ve written before about Pea’s school and my unhappiness with it. I’ve written about the racially motivated bullying I witnessed, the mean girls, and how it feels to have your volunteer efforts denigrated...well. I’ve not written about a lot, too, because I hoped things would improve.
It hasn’t, not really. She’s bored. They do nothing academic, because that’s not the method. So everything that interests her — zoology, paleontology, geology — is irrelevant. And it isn’t fun to play with kids a year+ older than she is (hello, redshirting) who form cliques and call her stupid. When she goes off and does her own thing, I get told by the teacher that I need to be more proactive and schedule playdates with the mean girls. (Again: WTF? With kids who call her names? No.)
Yesterday I learned about the stupid comment. This morning I mentioned it to the teacher. My philosophy is generally this stuff needs to be worked out on the playground and I work with Pea to develop skills to handle it. But stupid is another animal. Stupid is never okay in my book. Stupid is something that has to be nipped in the bud. Not because people aren’t stupid, but because people will internalize stupid. And my kid? Is not stupid.
Teacher: “We can talk about this at the conference.” (Next week.)
Me: “I’m sorry, but I thought this might be something you’d want to address with the child saying it.”
Teacher: “Yes, we talk about these things in the group.”
Me: “So you’re saying this will be addressed?”
Teacher: “Yes, we don’t permit name calling.”
And that basically sums up every conversation I’ve ever had with Pea’s teacher. I bring something up and it is never answered directly. I feel like I’m imposing by trying to ask direct questions. I want to send a notice of deposition and get answers. Real answers.
Right now the school is pushing hard for donations and “100% commitment” from all the families. Newsletters are going out outlining how much has been donated and what the percentage looks like. As hard up as we are for funds, I was set to donate a small amount, but I haven’t done anything with the check.
I donate my time every week, and I am trying to remember if anyone except other parents have said “thanks” and I’m coming up blank. I’ve signed up to do other things that require my time and effort (some of which I get to do later this week – yay). And I think…why? So I can have my concerns dismissed? My kid called stupid?
I spend my afternoons working with her on reading, math, money equivalents…it’s not exactly ideal, but it pretty much guarantees I’m never going to put her in full day kindergarten at this place.
And it’s hard. I’m pissed. This isn’t what I expected when I put my kid in kindergarten. I’d almost prefer, at this point, to have her sitting in some Title I school doing mimeographed worksheets.
Almost.
Or at home with me.
Almost.
Poor AAL and Pea. That’s really awful.
We’re lucky, in a way, that the kids while the kids in H’s class ostracize her, they’ve made her into a mascot instead of target. I’ll hear groups of them talking about her. “Oh that’s H. Isn’t she cute? She doesn’t speak.” They do it when she’s standing right there on the outside of the group, right in front of her.
I could never have imagined how difficult kindergarten would be, even when it was working semi-successfully.
Because this:
>Or at home with me.
>Almost.
Would uproot our lives in ways I can’t imagine. Even as the alternative just keeps getting harder.
I don’t think I understand how school works in the modern age – I mean administratively. It sounds like even private schools are so wrapped up in ridiculous amounts of procedure that the best interests of the kids are dead last in terms of importance.
This sounds so hard. I don’t see how it’s in any way a failing on your part, though… it seems like this school just isn’t right for your kid.
I feel guilty because I put her there, because I wasn’t patient enough to wait a year (like it seems like every other damned parent does now), because I can’t afford to send her to a private school that would be a better fit. I feel guilty that I took myself out of the job market for two years and am struggling to find something. I feel guilty that when I do have her home with me, I am exhausted by her energy and I don’t put enough time into working with her. I feel guilty because sometimes I let her watch TV just so I can have some quiet time to write or read.
Because I was so young and then skipped a grade, I was a mascot instead of a target for several years. It’s a better place to be, I think, and kids seem to be more tolerant of quirkiness. But then I was tiny. Pea is huge, physically, and the expectation is that she will act like the 7 year old she appears to be.
Thank you for making me appreciate Jacob’s education at a public, Title One school. It’s not the best, but it sounds oh so much better than what you’re getting.
I feel like saying, “my pleasure!”
But really, I wish she wasn’t going through this at all.
It sounds awful, and for what you went thru to get her in there, it baffles me that the school just lets it continue. And I would totally skip sending them a check – I believe that volunteering your time is worth much more than any amount of money you could send.
I almost think I’d reply to their request for donation with some version of this:
‘I donate my time every week, and I am trying to remember if anyone except other parents have said “thanks” and I’m coming up blank. I’ve signed up to do other things that require my time and effort (some of which I get to do later this week – yay). And I think…why? So I can have my concerns dismissed? My kid called stupid?” I mean, they ought to be ashamed of themselves if they can’t even express some appreciation before asking for even more from you, and that’s without even addressing their failure to meet one of the more basic expectations like, oh, actual education, actual understanding of why you might want to address an issue immediately and not a week later (when the kids have long since forgotten what they did).
But then, maybe you have to be afraid that they’d retaliate against poor Pea. I don’t know.
I have that letter just about composed in my head. I’m almost waiting for someone to tip me over the edge, because it’ll be…not ambiguous. At all. I’m afraid it may make things more difficult in the long run, but I’m not sure how much of a long run there’s going to be here.
Oh no! I’m sorry about the band calling and teacher failings. I’m not looking forward to having to be assertive on my kid’s behalf!
You know, you think it’s going to get easier once your kids talk and can express themselves. I think it gets harder! (But maybe it’ll get easier again. And maybe it is easier for boys?)
This is horrible on so many levels. It isn’t like the you I know (via here) to tolerate inauthenticity–and I have the feeling you’ll press for answers and solutions as soon as you come up with a more comfortable way to phrase them. But also, WTH?!
Elementary school is giving me so much anxiety.
Nu just turned five (in Oct) and is at full-day K at a public school. She’s supposedly very quiet at school and I can see her getting wilder at home. I keep reminding myself that she’s around kids who are one or two years older than her all day. We’ve had other kids question her choice of backpack–Spiderman–but isn’t that for boys? And some of them asked me why she doesn’t wear pink all the time–I said that’s because she’s very stylish and really cool, you know? (I hope God forgives me for that.)
Have you heard of Princess Free Zone, Maya? I follow them on FB and love the articles they post. And I love the fact she loves Spiderman. (I have a huge comic collection!)
http://www.princessfreezone.com/
“I feel guilty because I put her there, because I wasn’t patient enough to wait a year (like it seems like every other damned parent does now), because I can’t afford to send her to a private school that would be a better fit. I feel guilty that I took myself out of the job market for two years and am struggling to find something. I feel guilty that when I do have her home with me, I am exhausted by her energy and I don’t put enough time into working with her. I feel guilty because sometimes I let her watch TV just so I can have some quiet time to write or read.”
I know you’ve already beaten yourself up about this a ton, but you really shouldn’t feel guilty about any of that.
As to wishing you could send her to private school or had held her back: It seems like you sussed this situation out pretty well beforehand and it sounded like the best choice by far. Even when you’ve done that homework beforehand, there’s no way to know how something is going to work out until you try it. And if you hadn’t tried it, you’d be feeling bad about *that*.
As to your guilt about not being able to be the world’s most attentive teacher/parent/child entertainer 24/7: Any parent who says they don’t feel the same things is LYING. Children – especially smart, inquisitive children – are exhausting. (And I really hope M doesn’t give up naps at 2 like Pea did! That is what keeps me sane!)
When I’m feeling objective, I can let the guilt go. But when I have her in the backseat on the way home, I just feel awful. Hopefully we will be in a better position next year — and if nothing else, there is moving across the river. It would make M’s commute miserable, but Vancouver schools are better.
One word: Beaverton! Only partly kidding…
I have so been there. I feel for you. Is Pea on the spectrum? Non-verbal? (Forgive me if I am making the wrong assumptions.) I haven’t yet had time to explore the archives here so I’m not sure. But even from the little I’ve read I know your heart is aching. I have no experience with private schools except the therapeutic school B is at now, which is totally governed by special ed law. I wish I could offer more than warm wishes, but those I can offer in bulk.
Keep on truckin’, Sister.
I don’t think she’s on the spectrum, although she has the tendency to grab onto one topic and plumb it to death. (I was the same way; her father is, too, but not to the same extent.) She’s bright but introverted (in large groups) and yet tremendously social (in small groups — I have to pull her away from strangers, because she interrogates them about everything from the age of their baby to where they got their coat/boots/dress). She is comfortable with older kids, adults, and young kids, but with the exception of about five peers, really not into socializing with her peer group. She would like to, I think, but they’re overwhelming to her en masse and she’s a full year younger than some of the other kindergarteners, so they’re on a different social level than she is. That immaturity is tough in a school environment.
She’s very sensitive to noise (I am, too).
All of that is to say: I suspect school may always be a bad fit, unless she gets into a school that caters to kids with quirky interests who do things on their own time. There is one here, and it’s public, but it’s highly competitive to get into. Still, I’m going to keep trying.
She sounds so much like Jacob….sometimes I think of it as “only child” syndrome, but I think it goes further because he converses on a higher level than his peers at school. He doesn’t have many friends at school, and says most of the fifth graders act like preschoolers. He’s quite introverted, but can hold conversations with adults quite well. Maybe it’s the combination of growing up as an only child and having a mother who is a lawyer??
I’m sad this has been your kiddo’s experience. My middle child was also a late talker and putting him into kindergarten turned out to be a wonderful thing for him.
Each class has it’s own flavor, not each classroom but each class of children, from school to school, and that’s hard to discern at the beginning. It’s difficult to reset the tone once it’s been put into practice. Playdates aren’t going to do that. This might take a visit to the principal with the goal of, “How are my child’s needs going to be best served by this school.” She’s bored and that’ll cause her to do poorly and makes her the target of more assertive children, where can we change that?
It is heartbreaking to see her unhappy. I keep hoping when academics start (at this school, next year), it will get better, because this is where she’s happiest. On the positive side, she doesn’t seem to be crying/really fighting going, which I’ve heard about from some other parents. (I can’t believe that’s the good side I’m looking at…)