It's the first official day of school for most of the kids around here and I have to say, I've been "schooled" to death. My friends on Facebook have been posting for weeks about how concerned they are for their kids starting a new year. They're worried about kids taking two buses (I did that in college for a 7am math class and I can tell you that noone was holding my hand or worrying about me standing around in the dark.) I get the concern when it comes to smaller kids (although again, my Mom wasn't a coddler). We got our new teacher's name at the end of the previous year and that was that, you didn't ask to switch classrooms, or talk to the principal, or prepare a list of do's and don'ts for some poor, unsuspecting educator who couldn't possibly keep track of thirty kids' special needs. Did I get help when I needed it? Sure. Did I know how to ask? Sure. But I didn't get everything smoothed over for me weeks before going into a classroom.
I remember my first year of high school.I asked that a second set of books be put in each of my classes (I had four per semester) so that I wasn't lugging so many heavy books around. Well, you would have thought that I asked for the moon. There was a huge debate over whether it was even possible and in the end, I gave up and hauled books around for no good reason beyond bureaucratic red tape.
For four years I trudged up and down staircases with heavy bags, this time, without any help. Sure, I could have gone to a school with an elevator and saved myself a lot of grief, but why do that? I knew what I was capable of, I knew it would be a good physical challenge for me, and most importantly, I knew I could do it. My only concession was being granted more time to write tests (I was a slow writer) Somehow, they managed to make a federal case out of that too, so by the end of grade ten, I deemed it wasn't worth the trouble and just picked up the pace, hoping I could make up in clarity what I lacked in speed. I survived and I took a lot of pride in that.
If my Mom worried about me, she seldom showed it. I wasn't drowning in her tears on the first day of school, she didn't fight my battles for me (although there were some days I wish she would have) and at the end of the day, I think I came out better for it.
Showing concern for kids is one thing, setting them up so they never learn how to fail is another. I've fallen flat on my face (both literally and figuratively) and I've lived to tell the tale. Failure can hold just as many valuable lessons as success, there's no need to always cushion the blow. Kids take pride in sorting stuff out on their own, why not let them learn that they have the strength of character to do just that? I guarantee, they'll thank you for it. Maybe not now, maybe not next week, but someday, in the not too distant future, you'll hear "thank you" for what right now, seems like an overwhelmingly thankless job. So, dry those tears, replace them with a reassuring smile, and tell your kids that they're going to be great, that you know they can do it, because, they can.
Someone shared this gem with me on Facebook. Relates well to this topic IMO. I couldn't post it on my other journal (LJ doesn't seem to like youtube links anymore) Let's see if it works here...
I remember my first year of high school.I asked that a second set of books be put in each of my classes (I had four per semester) so that I wasn't lugging so many heavy books around. Well, you would have thought that I asked for the moon. There was a huge debate over whether it was even possible and in the end, I gave up and hauled books around for no good reason beyond bureaucratic red tape.
For four years I trudged up and down staircases with heavy bags, this time, without any help. Sure, I could have gone to a school with an elevator and saved myself a lot of grief, but why do that? I knew what I was capable of, I knew it would be a good physical challenge for me, and most importantly, I knew I could do it. My only concession was being granted more time to write tests (I was a slow writer) Somehow, they managed to make a federal case out of that too, so by the end of grade ten, I deemed it wasn't worth the trouble and just picked up the pace, hoping I could make up in clarity what I lacked in speed. I survived and I took a lot of pride in that.
If my Mom worried about me, she seldom showed it. I wasn't drowning in her tears on the first day of school, she didn't fight my battles for me (although there were some days I wish she would have) and at the end of the day, I think I came out better for it.
Showing concern for kids is one thing, setting them up so they never learn how to fail is another. I've fallen flat on my face (both literally and figuratively) and I've lived to tell the tale. Failure can hold just as many valuable lessons as success, there's no need to always cushion the blow. Kids take pride in sorting stuff out on their own, why not let them learn that they have the strength of character to do just that? I guarantee, they'll thank you for it. Maybe not now, maybe not next week, but someday, in the not too distant future, you'll hear "thank you" for what right now, seems like an overwhelmingly thankless job. So, dry those tears, replace them with a reassuring smile, and tell your kids that they're going to be great, that you know they can do it, because, they can.
Someone shared this gem with me on Facebook. Relates well to this topic IMO. I couldn't post it on my other journal (LJ doesn't seem to like youtube links anymore) Let's see if it works here...
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