And I don’t know if I can do it
Posted on February 12th, 2013
The next time Pea’s teacher decides to talk to me about how I need to have the archdemon child in her class over for a playdate, I am not going to be as polite as I was today. (I was very polite. I explained why, I explained the history, and I explained that I would not violate any sort of implicit covenant with my child by bringing home her nemesis and forcing that social interaction on her.)
That was twenty minutes of my life gone, twenty minutes when I was sick and tired and cold at the park, sitting on a bench because I was too exhausted to stand, because I’d promised Pea that even though I was sick, if no other parents volunteered, I would go. So I went. All the non-accompanying moms said, “you shouldn’t go!” and I said, “I made a deal with my kid, and so I’m going.” I didn’t say, “Well, if one of you went, I wouldn’t have to,” but I did think it.
The teacher also made a comment about how Pea likes school. I laughed. It was a real laugh, because it just brought home how little she knows Pea. So I didn’t sugar coat it. I said, “No. No, she doesn’t. Every day, it is ‘please don’t make me go to school.’ ‘Please let me stay home with you, Mama.’ ‘I hate school, Mama. The girls are mean.’”
I am tired of having to explain what an introverted gifted kid is. I am sorry she is not a cookie-cutter Waldorf drone. No, I’m not projecting my history or M’s history on Pea. The teacher really does not understand that the package deal includes asynchronous social development. I’m sick of the woo parenting crap (yesterday’s: children can read your mind!) that keeps being left in Pea’s cubby.
I’m going to start photocopying things of my own.
I told the teacher that this child, who she thinks ought to be held back, talked to me on the car ride to school about Einstein (what he did and how he hated school, too, and why he stuck his tongue out in that picture), Vikings (in general), and what type of physics field her great-uncle is in. That her gross motor skills are fine, as witnessed by her progress in dancing and the OMSI balance thing.
I explained that based on their criteria of advancement to first grade: willingness to work in groups, motor skills, drawing ability, it was a miracle I made it to college and graduate school, because I clearly still didn’t qualify for first grade.
I don’t know if it did any good. But I got to say it, so I suppose there’s that. How it gets interpreted is anyone’s guess.
Back at school, there was an annoying little girl who started bugging me about why Pea did certain things. (Pea was teary today. In all honesty, I don’t think my going on the park outings is an overall benefit to Pea, but she wants me there, and it is the least obtrustive way I can be active in the class and observe dynamics.)
I’m not trying to be nice to the mean little girls anymore. Especially since this one is over a year older than Pea, and I’m just sick of the BS. Also, I’m tired of being interrogated about my kid. If they have questions, they can ask her.
MLG: Why is Pea always crying?
Me: She isn’t.
MLG: She cries if you pull on her arm.
Me: Why would you pull on her arm?
MLG: (Pause.) She cries if you tell her to stop touching her hair.
Me: Why are you worried about her hair? Don’t you have anything better to do?
Then I glared at the MLG until she sat down at her cubby.
There was an exchange with the archdemon little child (who splashed water on Pea in the bathroom and then acted VERY guilty when she saw me) where I actually gave her my meanest look and informed her I didn’t ever want to hear about her bothering Pea again. She physically backed away from me. I felt stupid and petty, but I was also relieved. I hear about how that girl hits Pea or calls Pea stupid just about every fucking day. My goal is to induce fear now. I want her to stay away.
Pea is playing more with the boys, which is fine with me, even if they do tell her werewolves and vampires are real. Her interests tend to align more with theirs, and their drama is so much easier to deal with.
I took one of Pea’s (male) friends home with us, and that was delightful — both kids were completely different the moment we pulled away. They chatted in the car about Phineas and Ferb and were so animated that I could hardly believe they were the same kids that had been at the park a couple of hours before.
The playdate lasted until late afternoon. At one point, I was using toothpicks to prop my eyelids open. It was like the Anti-Waldorf playdate: I made them Phineas and Ferb Mac-n-cheese, gave them orange juice and then we made brownies. (I did not let them watch any TV, though. Word might get around.)
Could all the woo be part of the problem. I’d be longing for some old fashioned time outs and letters home for this anuskids. Instead it seems to be all feelings and let’s accommodate the shitheads.
The catch of the charter school is that the parents have a disproportionate amount of control — that is, the parents who are on the board, etc. Most of the worst offenders have parents on important committees — go figure. I can sympathize with the teachers, but only to a point. Grow a spine, bitches.
You’re right to call out the bratty kids to their faces if the teacher won’t do it. I still remember when the mother of a kid in my class (this was probably 3rd or 4th grade) told me that her son felt very hurt when I teased him. It made me so ashamed of myself, and I did stop the bad behavior.
I was thinking of you and what you’d said in an earlier comment when I unhinged my jaw and started talking. It actually gave me the moxie to do it! Thank you.
I knew I’d had this thought before when you wrote about Pea and mean kids, but I couldn’t remember if I’d shared it. So glad it helped! Makes me feel somehow that I’m doing a bit of making up for my shitty behavior 25 years ago!
First of all, I think you could have a lot of room to be even “less nice” than you were to the mean little girl.
And this is probably a$$vice, but have you thought about pulling Pea out of this school and teaching her at home or switching her to a different school? (I remember there were several considerations that lead you to selecting this school, but not the details). It seems like having her there is pretty rough on both of you guys and there might not be a lot of scope for it to be improve (although it’s definitely good that you’re not sugar-coating things to the teachers or taking their woo advice).
I’m seriously thinking that, if I do not get the job I applied for, that I will pull her out. Kindergarten isn’t mandatory in this state — I don’t even need to call it homeschooling — and we can go back to our routine of museums and worksheets and outings. Although talk to me after our upcoming five day weekend (YIKES).
Excuse me, what?! Since when do teachers have any right to set their student’s social agendas outside of school? Or to tell parents who they will and will not have in their house? Give me a break. You were nice once. The next time it comes up – if it does – be brutally frank and tell her that not only is her advice unwelcome, but it is also out of line. The teacher clearly has a misunderstanding about the score (read that: boundaries) of their job.
I know!! She’s tried this BS before and I’ve blown her off. M and I are not raising a doormat; I schedule playdates with the kids she likes to play with (the boys). I’ve done an outing or two with some girls and have been unimpressed with them (and their mothers). I’m not forcing my kid to tolerate bullies. I suspect it’s part of the Waldorf “you-must-all-be-exactly-alike” method. Ugh. No, we don’t all need to get along!
My middle triplet Nick is shy yet very inquisitive like his (distant) cousin Pea. I’m dealing with a similar situation with his 3rd grade teacher who suggested he cheated on the state mandated testing because he scored the highest in the class yet struggles to stay focused in class. Nick told me the teacher makes him work in groups with kids who are loud & laugh at his ideas so he prefers to work alone (which is not allowed). I’ve tried to talk to the teacher (to no avail) and the principal recently suggested moving Nick to another 3rd grade class (which I’m about ready to do). I guess my point is this: You are not the only one dealing with a “difficult” teacher. Good luck and give Pea a hug from her triplet cousins!
I hate that group work is pushed now. I think it’s lazy teaching and it’s anathema for bright/gifted/introverted kids. I hated doing everyone else’s work (because if I didn’t, we wouldn’t finish or I’d get a crappy grade), I hated waiting for everyone else to catch up, and I was easily distracted by seatmates.
Have you read QUIET: THE HIDDEN POWER OF INTROVERTS? It gave me a lot of food for thought — and realization that I was going to be spending the next few years doing a lot of advocacy for my introverted kid.
Yeah, I think I would just tell the teacher I disagree with her recommendation and I won’t be following it, so please don’t bring it up again. As for the super-mean girl, can you talk to her mother? I know it’s not ideal, but Pea is miserable, her child is saying/doing things that hurt Pea most days, and it may be better than trying to knock sense into a 6 year old yourself. BTW: one of my friend’s children was being bullied, and the father told him he had two options: physical confrontation, or “yo momma” jokes. He did the latter and got in trouble, but the bullying stopped. I wonder if this is a Philadelphia thing? I would not have thought of the yo momma angle.
I have never thought of yo momma jokes. (I don’t even think I know any!) But hey, a Philadelphia solution in a Waldorf class would be nothing but fun, right?
The school sounds sucky… touchy-feely “student led” bullshit. Fuck no, I’m not inviting somebody else’s brat to my house just because the teacher thinks I should. I would definitely change schools. It’d be one thing if the problem was just little shit kids, but the problem there is the way the school is managed. It sounds awful. Forget the froo froo school!
Here’s my advice, for what it’s worth, because geez, poor pet, I *was* her:
It’s perfectly okay for her to just ignore the girls and hang with the boys. There should be no pressure to be friends with the girls, and particularly with mean girls. I wasn’t primarily friends with girls until adulthood. I had nothing in common with any of them. I wasn’t girly. I was the “smart kid.” I liked comic books, video games and sports, sci-fi/fantasy and astronomy, not princesses and such. But it’s still hard, because those same guy friends will eventually reject you too by middle school. Childhood is just so hard, even so young. Middle school sucks. High school is just drama.
But school isn’t about learning course material. You can sit at home and learn that out of a book. What’s valuable is the social interaction, and the strongest lessons happen when it’s hard. Learning to interact with people, work with people (particularly when they suck so bad), and resolve conflicts, is all integral to human development. This is particularly important for the introvert. I *was* the introvert. Oh, I was so painfully introverted. The first few years of school was just so hard for me. I spent most of my childhood in my own head. I still struggle with it. But it’s so important to continue to push her boundaries and comfort levels. I made it a priority to do so. She will get there. Those mean girls? Grow up to be mean women. She will work with them, she will work for them. She doesn’t have to be friends with them, she doesn’t have to like them, but she has to learn to deal with them, even at this young age. Because they only get more mean. Certainly holding her back is not going to help her, that’s ridiculous. She can and will grow with her peer group.
I’ve gone to great lengths to make sure Cora will not be as sensitive as I was, and will not spend the majority of her elementary education in tears every single day. (Every. Day. Shit. It was rough.) Teaching her to cope with her emotions, and in particular to control her emotions, is a big priority for me. It’s rough now, but it will get better, I promise! Hang in there. She’ll be better because of it.
We just need to get Pea and Cora together, and Cora can tell Pea all about Gorgons and beheadings, and Pea can tell Cora all about the dinosaurs (Cora loves dinosaurs, but she is no expert nor am I … but I still say it’s called a brontosaurus, dammit, and you can’t convince me otherwise).
Okay, off to bed.
That’s good advice, and a good way to look at it. It’s just the trial by fire is so awful to watch. I never thought the hard part of having a kid in school would be the heartbreak of seeing them hurting.
In the places where the teacher is unobtrusive, things are getting better. (Even mean girls were relatively nice today, which was shocking.) A huge part of the class is the school is mostly made up of kids who have older siblings in school together, so they have known one another for years. Very few of the families are actually new to the school. It means it’s awkward for parents and for kids.
What I find fascinating is that we don’t have these issues when she goes to museums or camps or other kid activities. It’s this damned school, or at least this class.
Gorgons! Pea is obsessed with Medusa! (She has a Medusa figure and a Cerberus figure and loves them!) It got sparked by interest in the constellations and now we’re reading mythology to her.
The dinosaur knowledge is starting to fade and it makes me so sad. But I keep pushing it a little, here and there. I love the dinosaur stuff! I want to stay in that phase!
That settles it, you’ve got to move here. Cora and Pea were meant to be BFFs. (Pea will have to learn to put up with some princess BS though. Cora loves Greek mythology, and Tolkien, but that doesn’t make her any less of a damn princess.)
I hope either of my daughters is as awesome as Pea and Cora. AF is well on her way (we heart dinos!) but its a bit early going yet.