Had one of those great afternoons at the island with the kids. It was a little cool (by northern standards… downright freezing by our own), very sunny, relaxing, and fun.
I’ve posted all of these pics to Flickr, but I decided to fool around with my gallery plug-in again (even though I haven’t worked out how to shed the link underlines in the photos that show up in Safari – without shedding all of the underlined links everywhere).
It’s in the low 60s and the kid in back is a little hyper from an hour of running, leaping and kicking. What better time to roll down the windows and sing Feliz Navidad (complete with musical flourishes in between lines) at the top of your lungs as you drive through the neighborhood.
Some might call this behavior a touch unstable. I prefer to think of it as loving being a parent.
It’s too nice to be outside, but lunch is too short to stay out. It’s a classic worker’s delema, but not one I face often. Most of the time I’m not paying close enough attention, holed up in my little corner of invisible, government service. Today I’m a little burned out – thus the walk-about at lunch. Life’s been a little harder lately, intruding on my work, making it harder to focus on any one thing.
There’s a simple name for this condition: depression. It’s a recurring theme, one that bores even me.
More than anything else in my life (caveat: I’m living in the moment), kids are a source of peaks and valleys. Beth is a magnet for bullies. She has been since her first day in day care. She’s attracted another batch of little cretins this year (see, I’m not above being mean either… revenge is a dish easiest served unnoticed). Yesterday the culprit wasn’t just one, it was a team effort. A group of classmates trapped her in a school restroom, after a few kicks, shoves, and turning out the lights for good measure. The school is apparently addressing the situation, but not to my immediate liking. I can appretiate the bind schools find themselves in when bullying occurs with out reliable witnesses, but as a parent, nothing is ever soon enough. A part of me feels that a calm approach is best, that we shoud speak to the school with a certain amount of understanding for their position, while still holding calmly firm in our expectation that something will be done.
That’s a nice sentiment, but not terribly realistic when Beth is so worried about school she’s sick to her stomach. My first instinct was to make her go to school today, but my heart felt weak and tired, so she stayed home – safe for now. But what about tomorrow? The little twerps really know they got to her now… that they won. What kind of punishment can overcome that kind of empowerment?
The principal says if it happens again the kids will be suspended. In the adult world this kind of behavior approaches kidnapping. Is a warning enough? I don’t expect a day in the stocks, but a warning?
Someone asked me the other day if Beth was in junior high. When I said yes, this person went on to share some of their horror stories about that age: boys pulling girl’s hair, the physical awkwardness, etc. I nodded my head, but I was thinking that was just the tip of a very large iceberg. To be fair, this person was just making small talk in passing, not engaging me in a serious, drawn out discussion about the human condition. I guess what I’m trying to say is this post is not meant to pick on this person… just that it stuck in my mind.
Yesterday Beth was allowed to wear her Halloween costume to school. It was a little small but she really wanted to wear it. She bought it last year but didn’t get to wear it because she got really sick.
She felt really good about herself until she got to school.
“What, are you supposed to be dressed as a janitor?”
Actually, she was dressed as a mission specialist for a shuttle mission. She’s always been fascinated by space, but she doesn’t think she has what it takes to be a pilot. She figured her ticket to space was as a scientist. She’s had it all worked out for some time, this one.
I tell her it’s not always going to be like this. Kids grow up to be (slightly) more secure adults who don’t feel the need to drag everyone else down to make them feel better. We grow up and grow a little less dependent on acceptance from everyone, learning the acceptance from a relative few we know, love and trust is enough. I tell her kids were mean when I was growing up too but things got better. I tell her there are lots of people who love and accept her: me, Cheryl, her brother (who adores her more than she can stand at times), her grandparents.
I can see the look in her eyes. She’s not completely convinced. I guess we do what we can and hope it’s enough.
I can still be surprised by things my daughter says, even after eleven years. Here’s a snippet of a conversation between Cheryl and Beth.
“You know Beth, in another six or seven years you may be living on your own.”
“Not in this economy. I wouldn’t be able to afford to live on my own.”
She may be gaining on Cheryl’s height as we watch, but she’s still that little girl with a squeaky voice in my heart and mind.
We pulled Beth out of her school yesterday. We’re not opting for a private school though… well not exactly. There’s a charter school down the road that a bunch of folks at church recommended. Today’s her first day… wearing a uniform. I’m working really hard to repress all of the bad associations with school uniforms running around in my mind.
It may turn out for the best, but right now I feel like a quitter and a loser. We’ve agonized over this decision for weeks. We went over for an open house. Beth spent a day shadowing to get the lay of the land. We spent a lot of time talking to Beth about what she wanted. We agonized over leaving her gifted programs behind (which she loved). In the end we came to a decision together, but I still feel awful.
Her first day at the new school comes one day after her first report card (of the middle school era). She was a little disappointed… only making the honor roll.
Expectations can be rough, eh?
I gave up writing reviews some time ago. I’d never been happy with them. At some point I decided I’m not very good at them and my days as an amateur critic* came to and end. You may have noticed the book cover in this post, wondering if my decision to give up writing reviews lasted less than fifty words.
Don’t worry friends, I’m not going to torture you with a review, but I am going to make a recommendation. Beth is not an enthusiastic reader of fiction. She loves National Geographic, and she brings a new book on astronomy home from the library every week. Dannette Haworth’s first book: Violet Raines Almost Got Struck By Lightning is an exception. If you’re daughter is looking for a good book to read, consider this one.
*If you want to torture yourself, you can see them all here.
I’ve always believed in public schools, even if some conservatives in Florida don’t. I’ve been skeptical of our system of school grading, high stakes testing, and quasi-privatization – ushered in by Bush the Smarter. Now picture me this week: considering the idea of pulling my daughter out of public school. It’s eating me up inside.
So how did I come to this place, just six weeks into my daughter’s first year of middle school? I like to think I’m a little level headed when I need to be. I don’t think I’m prone to rash decisions, lurching from one reaction to another. I know six weeks doesn’t sound like a fair shake, not when so much changes from elementary to middle school. The gist of it is: I think they’ve gone way overboard on homework.
Beth isn’t new to homework. She’s in gifted classes, which sometimes involved quite a bit of homework even in elementary school. We all figured this year would mean more with the leap to middle school, and the special (advanced) program she was starting. The odd thing is, her gifted classes aren’t the ones with the most homework. It’s the regular classes that are loading it up. And Beth isn’t the only one. Other parents tell us stories about their kids (not in the gifted classes) staying up as late as they do, dropping out of all their extracurricular activities, because homework in middle school is all-consuming.
I can’t shake the feeling there’s something very wrong with this picture. Part of me wonders if it’s the funding scheme ‘ole Jeb set up, pitting school against school in a war of FCAT scores. I wonder if there’s a pressure on schools to work students as hard as possible, to gain an advantage over other schools, without regard for wether it’s in the long term interests of the students. I understand homework is important. It’s a fact of life. Most of us have to work, many of us hard at times. In some ways having a lot to do now could be good preparation for later. But does she really need to learn how to cram in an all-nighter at eleven (years old)… in sixth grade? Am I wrong to think my daughter should still have time to be a kid every now and again? At this rate she’ll get her first ulcer before I do. It seems wrong on so many levels I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop typing tonight. Fuck it, I’m not sleeping anyway.
I want to believe the proponents of our current system had the kids’ well-being in mind when they put it together. But you want to know something? I see a system that provides more and more proof the “free market” isn’t a panacea. Not when good students become a means to an end; or for that matter, anything other than THE end.
You want to hear the real kicker? The sales pitch for private middle schools around here always seems to start with: “we make sure our students have no more than x hours of homework every night.“
Friday evening my daughter asked me what we were going to do for Labor Day.
“Nothing,” I said.
“We’re not going to do anything to celebrate?”
“That’s right.”
“Why not?”
“Eh” (note: I’m surprised she let me get away with this one.)
“What is Labor Day?”
“Do you want the long answer or the short one?”
That’s code in our house for: “do you want to spend the next thirty minutes of your life listening to me pretend I’m smart?”
“I don’t know. Do I want the long answer?”
“That depends. How much do you want to know about world politics in the twentieth century?”
“The short answer then.”
“It’s to honor people who work.”
“That sounds boring.”
“If it quacks like a duck….”
“Huh?”
“What I meant was you’re right, it can be kind of boring. But it can be kind of nice depending on what you make of it.”
“Why don’t kids have any holidays?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, there’s mother’s day and father’s day but no kid’s day.”
“What, you aren’t satisfied with Christmas, Halloween and birthdays?”
“Adults have birthdays too.”
“True, but have you ever noticed me and your mom never get as many presents as you and Adam, and more of the presents we do get are boring things like clothes?”
“Ohhh… yeah. So we’re not going to celebrate Labor Day?”
“I didn’t say that. I said I wasn’t going to do anything to celebrate.”
“Actually, you said you were doing nothing to celebrate.”
“Right, I’m going to do nothing to celebrate. Don’t you think it’s kind of appropriate?”
“So you’re going to celebrate by doing nothing?”
“Yep.”
“You know you’re not making a lot of sense?”
“Yep.”
“Dad, has anyone ever told you you’re strange?”
“All the time kid.”
We both chuckled. I know we’re related and all, but sometimes I’m surprised by the easy rapport I have with Beth. I hate to think it’ll all disappear when she enters the dreaded teen years. Tonight, out of the blue she put down her math book and said to Cheryl, “you know mom, I think you did a pretty good job picking dad.” I inhaled more of that glass of water than I swallowed. “What?!?” she said. “Nothing,” I replied, “you’ve just got a funny way of putting things sometimes… funny in a good way.”
I’m riding a high even politics can’t bring down.
It turned out we did do something. Saturday and Sunday were pretty much washed out by the fringes of whatever storm was passing through this week, but Monday was a good day to live in Florida. Even a guy like me can appreticate a summer day in Florida once in a while. It was still freaking hot, but you get used to it after the first eight hours or so. That or you’re finally beaten senseless and can’t tell anymore. Still, it was pretty cool (you know what I mean). I got the yard work done and still had the energy to get out on the bike with Beth and spend a few hours at Honeymoon Island with the family. It was one of those days that invloved no advance planning but turned out great. I know I’ve said it before, but I love those days.
Beth brought her new red belt home tonight. Now she starts down the home stretch to her black belt. In her school, red is the last colored belt. There are two intermediate levels which can take six months each to achieve before she’d begin final preparation to test for her black belt. She’s a little worried about having enough time to get in training, with her academic schedule already looking pretty full, but I’m trying to preach a wait and see approach. We’ll worry about it when we get there.
In the mean time, tonight was pretty cool. You should have seen her. She’s so proud.
So are we.
I would have taken this picture outdoors, like the previous pics, but the weather hasn’t been cooperating.