My kids’ school years are ending and I found myself thinking about how I might improve my performance as a parent to students next year. But this isn’t exactly a report card, it’s more like notes to self: School.
I’m pretty much in awe of my kids’ teachers. While it feels very natural to appreciate teachers, I used to be a bit shy doing so. Thanking someone, letting that person know how much their contributions mean, that’s never a bad thing. I am no longer reticent to express my gratitude.
A harder thing for me is finding the line to walk that allows me to learn from what a child experiences, use that, and yet not hold fast to the same being true for the next because if I have discovered one thing from raising four children it’s that each one is different (feel free to utter duh right here right now). From the kid who carries a book for comfort and whose greatest challenge throughout elementary school was recess to the kid whose very most favorite place at school is the kickball field, each person’s strengths and challenges not only give me a lot to think about in terms of how to support him or her but also offer different perspectives about the institution known as school.
Another fine line for a parent is figuring out how to be proactive without overdoing (thinking too much, worrying too much, interfering too much). My friend, Jeanne, cautioned me that she imagined any in self-evaluation I’d undertake I would be unduly hard on myself (hmm) and so before I beat myself up at all, I’ll say this: it’s a fine line for a parent because it’s a very fine line, period.
For that first child who was pretty much wired to love school, I often got to simply sit back and watch him. I ignored people’s counsel to push him to be even more academically inclined and I didn’t ask the school to do more for him (in retrospect, perhaps at times I should have, but that’s another story). If there was pushing to do, I just hoped to help him find his playful self and his physical self. I mostly felt grateful he’d landed in a community where his reading, opera loving, recess-averse self was honored and respected.
I didn’t really comprehend how fortunate he was, that if you fit a place to a T, you fit it to a T. And so, I didn’t appreciate how, if school is hard, it’s really hard, because you have to go there every day.
The elementary school journey included some pretty rocky terrain for my rising seventh grader. Before beginning to comprehend a concrete challenge like writing (something that remains a bit mysterious, truth be told) there was a more fundamental puzzle: why was he so withholding of himself in school? Posing this question involved seeing past clownish behavior and some defiance and finding a way to figuratively sit beside him and try to peer out from his vantage point. Finding that perspective, for the parents and for the teachers, required a lot of work.
However, the rewards are great: I learned that it’s critical to keep seeing the best your child has to offer without ignoring the harder parts and it’s critical, if there are harder parts for all, to become your child’s advocate. I had some phenomenal guidance in this process.
The next kid is different, of course. He’s effusive in sharing his anxieties with me, looks—and I think for the most part is—happy in school and refuses to let other adults in on his struggles, such that I’m pretty convinced no one at school would truly believe the level of complaint and worry experienced at home. I don’t yet feel like I’m a terribly effective advocate for him. More to the point, I don’t yet feel I understand what he needs that I can provide, what will just require time and maturation and what people in the school can do to help him.
For that guy, I’ve assigned myself a little summer homework. First off, I’m going to push the guy to challenge himself to read, because he’s on the cusp of really enjoying it and I know that if he’s reading fluently and comfortably going into second grade, he’ll have a happier year. We’re also going to work on some self-soothing techniques—maybe some breathing—to help meet anxious moments with another tool at the ready. And I’m going to think about how to bring this long anxious build-up pattern to his new teacher in such a way that we share holding it, even though he only wants me to know that he’s struggling, because I really see school as an opportunity to learn to rely upon adults besides your parents (without losing your parents’ support).
The other part of being a parent in a school is trying to support the school in all kinds of ways. I’ve been a joiner; I’ve been a complainer (constructively, I hope), and next year, I’m going to try being a slacker. With four kids in four schools, I think slacker’s the only option to possibly secure something approximating parental sanity.
Up next: happy summer!
