School Awards

I have been parenting for 5 1/2 years now. And I’ve been thinking about parenting for longer than that. In that time, I’ve read a lot of books, talked with a lot of people, and gained a fair bit of experience. Through that process, I’ve developed my own personal Parenting Style. It works for me and my kids, mostly, most of the time. Which is honestly the most you can expect from a Parenting Style.

One aspect of my Parenting Style is that I avoid empty praise. This doesn’t mean that I don’t encourage my kids, or give feedback when appropriate, or say nice things to them. But it does mean that I try not to offer an evaluation of every little thing they do. Not every tooth-brushing event needs to be followed up with a hearty, “Good tooth brushing!” You know?

The reason that I try to avoid empty praise is that I, myself, am extremely praise-dependent. I received a lot of praise as a kid. It was the 80s, they were very concerned about self-esteem. I think this is one of the reasons that I’m such a perfectionist today. I came to believe that something was terribly wrong if someone wasn’t constantly telling me how awesome I am. I don’t want that for my kids. Of course, my efforts to avoid empty praise may not pay off in the way I hope, but I’m trying.

Now will somebody say, “Good trying!” for me? I kind of like hearing that sort of thing. Ahem.

Back to my point. Hannah’s school has monthly award assemblies. At the assemblies, a few students from each class are recognized for something they’ve accomplished that month. Over the course of the year, every student in the school gets an award. When it’s your child’s turn, you get a letter inviting you to attend. You get to hear everyone sing “O Canada”, see your kid shake the principal’s hand, take photos and beam.

In many ways, these assemblies provide the emptiest of empty praise. Every kid gets an award at some point, and no kid gets more than one. There is no particular merit involved. Although the teachers come up with something noteworthy and individual for each child, the certificate that gets handed out is pretty much the same regardless of your child’s performance or abilities.


Hannah receiving an award at a school assembly

Given my stance on empty praise, you’d think that my reaction when we got a letter telling us that Hannah would be recognized at the next assembly would be a sniff and a roll of my eyes. But not so much. I was thrilled, man. Seriously thrilled. 15 kinds of tickled pink and bragging about my kid on Twitter and everything. And when I saw that the award was presented for ‘insights and exceptional illustrations’, I was even more tickled. I wasn’t able to be at the assembly, but Jon sent me live photos and I ate it all up with a spoon.

I have justified my reaction to this award by saying that a school is different than a parent. It’s true. I need to provide unconditional love in a way that teachers, principals and institutions do not. I have also told myself that the specific and personal recognition on the award makes it less empty. Maybe so. And I have told myself that it’s important that school communities recognize the individuals in their midst, and provide them each with their own moment. I certainly don’t like feeling like one of a faceless crowd.

I’m not sure how much of my justification is a reflection of the fact that I like awards, so I like it when my kid gets awards. But I’m going to come right out and say that I’m not really sure I care. The reality is that I do my best to parent Hannah, and provide her with a supportive environment, where she is not made to feel like she needs to constantly perform or do something noteworthy to earn my affection. I avoid providing a steady stream of praise, so that she doesn’t come to believe that anything less than perfection is disaster. And I think that this foundation is what matters most. Whether there is a certificate on our fridge from school or not is probably not going to make a big difference in the long run.

But there is a certificate on our fridge, and I like it. My apologies to Alfie Kohn, who is 10 kinds of awesome, but who had better keep his paws off my kid’s award.

What about you? How do you feel about the awards that schools hand out to every kid? Do you think that participation ribbons pander to low achievers? Do you think that schools should avoid this kind of empty token? Or do you think that kids need to have moments of recognition during their academic career? Or maybe you think I should be giving my kids more praise in the first place. Whatever your thoughts, I’d love to hear them.

Musings on Education

It’s Thursday and I’m Crafting my Life! November’s theme is learning. Because we’re always learning, but especially so when we decide to take our lives in new directions. This week I’m going to talk about traditional education.

I am an engineer. I graduated from an accredited engineering school in Canada, and I worked as an engineer for 10 years. My university degree was my key to that field. Without it, many doors would have been closed to me. With it, I gained credibility and status within my chosen profession. I needed the degree to get the job, much like if I had been a doctor or a nurse or a teacher or a lawyer.

Engineering school was very much like high school in that the course of study was extremely structured, and the goal was clear. In your first year you took these courses, with room for one elective, to be chosen from this list. In the second year, you did those courses, and completed your first work placement. While it took some people longer than others, there was not a lot of wiggle room in your coursework. And the end result was that you would be an engineer – there’s really no other reason to go to engineering school.

Partly because I was young, and partly because of the level of structure, I approached university very much like I’d approached high school. I was there to graduate and move on the next phase. I was not there to find myself, or explore the meaning of life, or spend long afternoons debating politics on the quad. And I already had a boyfriend, so I wasn’t there to meet someone. I did what I had to do, and didn’t spend too much time considering why. The purpose of Math 251 was to add a checkmark to the list of courses I needed to graduate, not to expand my awareness of the world of differential equations.

I have mixed feelings about my approach to my education. I’m disappointed that I focused so much on the end, and so little on the experience. But, in my defense, an education in the sciences is by its very nature less introspective than an education in the arts. There is a right answer on a math test. I did my best to find that answer, and I generally succeeded, managing to win enough scholarship money to cover my tuition every semester. What I lacked in a well-rounded educational approach, I made up for by earning a degree with excellent career prospects at no expense to myself. I can’t exactly complain about that.

Now my daughter is kindergarten, embarking on her own educational journey. My goals for her are actually easier to define than my goals for myself. I hope that she remains curious and continues to love learning. I hope that she gains the necessary skills to live a full life with many choices. I hope that she learns how to co-exist happily with her peers. And I hope that she finds studies that are personally fulfilling and interesting to her. As much as I feel that my engineering degree has served me well, my experience of getting it was not what I would call personally fulfilling, and it did not contribute to a love of learning. If I don’t want that for my daughter, why would I want it for myself?

I think the answer centres around why we go to school. Some people believe the purpose of education is to instill critical thinking, or to create well-rounded individuals, or to expose us to new ideas. Others believe the purpose of education is to give us the skills we need to find a career. There are valid points in all camps. There are strengths to every approach. And there are better fits for every individual. But there is no clear winner, and most people pursue an education for more than one reason, anyway.

If we can’t all agree on the purpose of education, and we all have different learning styles, then we can’t create a system that works for everyone all the time. But that doesn’t mean that an education is useless. It also doesn’t mean that we should just accept the status quo. We can make the best of the situation we’re in, work to make it better, and recognize when the fit is really not working – regardless of our educational level. Sometimes we stick it out and are glad we did, sometimes we walk away and think it’s the best decision we ever made, sometimes we write letters and collect signatures and effect real change. If you can tell when to do which, well, you probably have life figured out.

In the end, no experience is wasted in life, no matter where we end up. I may not be a practicing engineer right now, but I use my degree every day. It is part of who I am. Just as the time I spent in elementary school has shaped me, and the time I spent in high school, and the time I spent in summer camp. Math 251 didn’t make my heart sing, but it made me who I am, and that’s the bit that matters.

Are you using the degrees and diplomas that you have? And how did earning those honours impact you? Would you choose the same course of study if you could do it over again? I’d like to hear your thoughts!

November’s Crafting my Life series is about learning. On the last Thursday of the month, which just happens to be the 25th, I will include a link up. To participate, write a post on learning anytime in November, or track down a post you’ve written on the subject sometime in the past, and add yourself to the list. Then read everyone else’s ideas and thoughts and be inspired! Check out the link-ups from January, February and March to get a feel for how it works.

To my Daughter on the First Day of Kindergarten

Hannah, hanging out

Dear Hannah,

Today I will walk you up the hill to the neighbourhood public school. I will take you into the gymnasium, where you and all of the other kindergartners will be counted and slotted into classes. Over the next few days we will meet with your teacher and visit your classroom. We will gather your supplies and label everything with your name. And then very soon I will walk you up that hill and leave you there to learn.

Of course, learning is not somehow set aside for a public school classroom. But that, dear child, is another topic for another day.

Today I feel as if I am turning you over to our larger community. These first 5 1/2 years of your life have not been spoken for. No one has had a claim on you except for me, and your father, and our family. You have belonged wholly to us, and we have belonged wholly to you. And we were responsible for finding our way together.

We have found our way together very well. Mostly. Of course there were bumps along the way. This is the sorrow of being the firstborn child – a sorrow your father and I know very well. You are always the one laying the groundwork for those who come after. But you are also the model, the doted-on first grandchild, the trailblazer finding her own way. No one will label you “so-and-so’s little sister”, evaluating you based on an older sibling before they’ve even met you. It’s not all bad, even the parts where your father and I had no idea what we were doing with you, and you had no idea what you were doing with us.

Now we have found our way to the beginning of formal education, and we have to hope that we have equipped you sufficiently for the wider world that you will grow into. This, my daughter, is the world that will be yours one day, for better or worse. You will inherit the amazing beauty, the overpowering wonder, the many ways that we have interfered with and ruined it. You will bear the consequences, good and bad, for our actions. This is how life works. Just as I inherited a world from my own parents and grandparents, you will inherit one from yours.

I hope that you will not descend too deeply into the fallacy that we who have made this world are to blame for all of your problems. We all must work with what we’re given, and laying blame when our share is not what we would hope it to be helps no one. The secret is not what you start with, it’s what you finish with, and how you behave along the way. I hope you will behave well, because I am your mother, after all. Also, always remember to wear clean underwear in case you’re in an accident.

When I send you to school, I will do so with the knowledge that you will never be fully mine again. You don’t belong just to your family anymore. We no longer lay claim to all that you are. We will continue to love and guide you, and you will always be our daughter. We will not stop loving you ever, no matter what. But we are handing you over to yourself in a new way. You are learning to steer your own ship, and as you do we relinquish the wheel with hearts that are both heavy and glad. That is what it means to be your parents.

We can’t wait to see where you sail. Please send photos and letters from your journeys, will you?

Love,
Mom

I Didn’t go to Kindergarten

I know I promised to stop my incessant hand-wringing and navel gazing about the fact that Hannah’s starting kindergarten in September. Apparently, I lied. My apologies. Hopefully, this is the last post, but I’m not making any guarantees. I don’t want to become, “The mom who cried no more kindergarten talk.” For now, enjoy more hand-wringing and navel gazing about my first child’s foray into public education.

I didn’t go to kindergarten.

OK, that’s not entirely true. I attended a Waldorf preschool and kindergarten. However, as far as the local public school district was concerned, it was the same thing as not attending kindergarten. And as far as I can say, looking back, they weren’t wrong. I didn’t do the same things in the same setting as my peers who attended public school. While you could argue that the things I did were wonderful and maybe even more valuable, there were no worksheets or performance evaluations or any of the traditional trappings of school.

Missing kindergarten has not negatively impacted my life in any way. I am here to tell you that while there are no doubt many great things about kindergarten, it is not a prerequisite to future success. Which is good to know, because it takes the pressure off. It means that my daughter, who is about to begin attending kindergarten, will not be forever defined by what happens at school. Or doesn’t happen at school. Hooray for having perspective!

Unfortunately, my perspective is not the perspective my own 5-year-old Hannah is looking for. She wants answers, and I don’t have them. She wants to know what she will do all day in kindergarten. She wants to know what, exactly, she will learn. She wants to know how she will learn it. She wants to know what kindergarten looks like, and I can’t blame her.

I didn’t go to kindergarten. I don’t have the answers. And really, even if I had attended kindergarten, it would have been almost 30 years ago. Kindergarten has very likely changed a fair bit in that time. Either way, I am no help here.

But there is one thing I do know about public schools, and about kids. Public schools have playgrounds. Kids like playgrounds. And maybe, if Hannah had a whole new playground to look forward to it would stop the steady stream of questions. Can you say field trip inspiration?

Hannah on the playground

Headed down the slide

Monkey kid

Jacob considers his next move

Look at that!

My boy

I am happy to say that my plan worked. Hannah loved the playground. It gave her something concrete to look forward to, and it gave me at least one solid answer. When she goes to kindergarten, she will get to play on that playground. Score one for the no-kindergarten mom!

Did you go to kindergarten? Do you actually remember anything about it? Share your memories, and if you have school-aged kids, let me know how kindergarten has changed in the past few decades.

PS – As you may know, I have started including a link-up with my monthly reviews. The reviews are an informal listing of a few things I learned in the past month. My August review will go live at 6am Pacific on Wednesday, September 1. If you want to play along, write a post on or before September 1, come here, and link up!

Greening School

My daughter Hannah is starting kindergarten in a few weeks. I am currently doing my summary best to ignore this fact. For now, that’s working for me. So, hooray for that! Eventually, I will be able to ignore the reality no longer. And there are a whole lot of things that I will have to consider and make decisions about. Whenever I come out of denial.

One of the things that I will be considering is the environmental impact of Hannah’s school experience. When we attended the orientation night, there were sculptures that the children had made out of their recyclables lining the hallways. The sculptures were lovely, and I loved that they were emphasizing recycling in the first place. But a lot of the recyclables were items like empty juice boxes and plastic water bottles. I couldn’t help but think it would be better to avoid these items in the first place.

Since this is my first experience with public education as a parent, I don’t have a lot of actual knowledge about how schools can reduce their environmental impact. But I do have a few thoughts on how I am going to try to reduce my family’s environmental impact as Hannah enters kindergarten. Here are my ideas:

1. Green the lunchbox. I will pack items in re-usable containers, and send along re-usable cutlery and a stainless steel water bottle. At home, I buy the biggest food package we can reasonably use, or avoid packaging altogether, and reduce the amount of waste that is produced with Hannah’s snacks and lunches. I am also starting to phase out plastic, in favour of glass and stainless steel containers, to avoid any possible concerns associated with storing food in plastic.

2. Green the trip to and from school. Hannah’s daycare was approximately 3.5 km from our house, which is a little far to walk twice a day with a toddler and a 5-year-old in tow. Luckily, Hannah’s school is much, much closer. I plan to walk to school and back each day. It means two round trips, including a big hill, for me, 5 days a week. Not only is it carbon-neutral, but it might be good for me, too.

3. Green the school supplies. I admit, I haven’t been that proactive about this one. Hannah’s school gave me the option of paying them, and then they arrange school supply purchase and delivery through a private company. Luckily, most of the items on Hannah’s list are pretty basic – exercise books, pencils, crayons, erasers. In the future, though, I think I will take the list and do my own shopping, so I can opt for more sustainable supplies, with less packaging and a lower carbon footprint.

4. Green the back-to-school wardrobe. There are a lot of options now for fun and sustainable kids’ clothing. Companies opt for alternative fibers, organic cotton, and non-toxic dyes. And, of course, buying second-hand is always environmentally friendly. And, really, who wants to step into the back-to-school frenzy at the local mall, anyway? Not me.

So, tell me, experienced parents of school aged children. Do you think that public schools are as green as they can be? And how do you reduce the environmental impact of back-to-school time? I’d love to know!

I was inspired to write this post for the Green Moms Carnival, which is being hosted by the lovely Micaela at Mindful Momma this month. If you want more ideas on greening back-to-school, check it out on August 30!

My 5-Year-Old Can’t Read

My daughter Hannah is a perfectly normal 5-year-old. She can hold up her end of a conversation, she enjoys books and music, and she loves to play outside. She can print her name, most of the time. She can dress herself and use the washroom on her own, and she plays well with her friends at preschool. All things considered, she is pretty typical.

Like a lot of parents, I still feel anxiety about my daughter’s development. The other day I met a child exactly 1 year younger than Hannah. An adult was reading a book that neither kid had seen before, and would occasionally point at a word. Hannah guessed based on context and the picture, with about a 30% accuracy rate. The other child, though, was clearly reading the words. I’m not particularly proud of myself, but seeing that a child a full year younger could read words when my own daughter doesn’t recognize all the letters in the alphabet sort of caught in my throat. I became concerned that my child is behind somehow, and won’t catch up.

There are a lot of organizations that prey on these parental fears and concerns. Of course we all want to make sure that our children have the basic skills to succeed in life. And so people and organizations step up to the plate, promising to help our children do better. They claim that the younger that reading starts, the better a child’s reading skills will be in the long term. In reading I even heard somebody cite the Matthew Effect as a reason that babies should read.

The Matthew Effect is named after Matthew 25:29 in the Bible, which says:

For to all those who have, more will be given, and they will have an abundance; but from those who have nothing, even what they have will be taken away.

In the context of reading, what this means is that when children don’t master reading by a certain age, it negatively impacts their educational advancement. They continue to fall farther and farther behind. This is because reading becomes critical to learning about many other subjects – children can’t research whales, or ancient Rome, or do mathematical word problems if they can’t read. However, it seems that most educational experts believe that the threshold for the Matthew Effect is around grade 3, not in preschool.

I have no doubt that people touting the benefits of teaching your baby to read are very sincere. But I will admit, reading their sites fills me with panic. If the sensitive period for reading really does start to close at 4, as one site claimed, then we have totally missed the boat and I have failed my child.

And then I came across a fabulous post by BluebirdMama, who is writing a series on her thoughts as her son gets ready to start kindergarten in the fall. Her post, Let Them Play, spoke to me and calmed a lot of my fears. In particular, I was delighted to hear about a study from New Zealand that demonstrated that by the time they are 11 years old, there is no difference in reading ability between early readers and later readers.

Anecdotally, our own family confirms that study. My husband Jon apparently started reading at around age 4, and I didn’t learn to read until I was in grade 1, at around 6 1/2. It makes no difference today, just as the fact that I was an early walker makes no difference to my current walking abilities. The fact is, children develop in their own time and at their own pace, and most of them end up just fine regardless of what that pace is.

Current research actually indicates that preschool-aged children, like my daughter, often do better in a an open-ended and creative environment that focuses on their social and emotional development. If children are interested in reading, that’s great. But if they’re not and we force them to complete academically-oriented tasks they can actually become discouraged and develop negative school associations. If we don’t impose academics on preschoolers who aren’t ready, they will catch up down the line. In fact, strong social skills in early childhood are linked to learning abilities in school-aged children.

Sooner or later my daughter will learn to read, when the time is right for her. In the meantime, we will do puzzles and paint and dance and role-play. And I will feel confident that I am not, in fact, dooming her to a lifetime of illiteracy.

Kindergarten Registration

On Tuesday I registered my baby for kindergarten. My daughter, Hannah, who was born 6 weeks early, and who at 4 days old weighed only 4lbs, 14oz. The child I feared would never learn to walk, or talk, or use the bathroom on her own. The child who made me a mother. I am so, so not ready for this.

I loaded the children up and we trekked the 3 blocks to the school. It’s not far, but it does involve a fairly steep hill, not fun with a toddler in a stroller. I think that walking to school and back twice a day, 5 days a week may turn out to be good for me. Hannah wanted to bring her bike but I talked her into riding her scooter, since the scooter is lighter and hence easier to handle if when she gets tired of riding it.

Scootering away from me
Hannah riding her scooter to the registration. Watching her ride away felt very wistful.

There is, as it turns out, a whole lot of paperwork involved in kindergarten registration. The form is short, only two pages of large, well-spaced font, but you need to bring documentation. For instance, you need a rental agreement, home-buying contract or property tax assessment to prove your residency. An electricity bill will not do. Your driver’s license will not do. You also need to provide verification of citizenship for your child and yourself. Does the school district really need to know my age? Apparently so.

Scooter, ditched
No surprise to me, Hannah wasn’t up to riding the scooter the whole way.

I sort of wonder about the necessity of these documents. I understand that they want to make sure that kids aren’t providing fake addresses, but how much of a problem is this really? Local enrollments are declining as the population ages and the birth rate declines. I needed less in the way of documentation to register to vote, for Pete’s sake!

Checking out the reading wall
Checking out a hallway display.

Thanks to our fastidious record-keeping, we did in fact manage to find our house purchase agreement. Good thing, because we don’t have a paper copy of our tax assessment due to my husband’s habit of scanning and destroying all of our documents. You’d better believe that when it’s time to register Jacob I am keeping a copy of the tax assessment. And maybe knocking 5 years off the age on my birth certificate with some white-out and a pencil. Or, if I’m feeling really wild, I’ll knock off 10.

'Happy' pose
Posing in front of the school.

Hannah talked the secretary’s ear off while we registered. She shared all sorts of personal details, and let her know that she’s feeling a little shy. She also let her know that her baby brother isn’t ready for kindergarten, that she is 4 3/4 and will turn 5 soon, and that kindergarten starts in a really, really long time after baby Jacob’s birthday. Having a 5-year-old teaches you to watch what you say, let me tell you.

They are implementing full-day kindergarten here in British Columbia, but not at our school. After much hand-wringing we opted for the afternoon slot. I’m hoping that Jacob will nap while Hannah’s at school and I will have actual time to myself. It could happen, right? (Please say yes.) Or, just share some kindergarten survival tips with me, because I think I’m going to need them.

(Lack of) Educational Philosophy

My daughter Hannah is now almost 5, and will be entering kindergarten in September. Our local school district is holding registration in early February, and so education is on my mind.

Hannah is a pretty normal kid for her age, I think, and is really looking forward to going to kindergarten. I have no doubt that she will handle the transition well. For our part, we have decided to enroll her in our local public school. I could come up with various reasons for why we’ve made this choice, but the truth is that it’s a combination of ease and reasonably positive school experiences for Jon and me. In general, my husband and I did well in public school. We have no undue concerns about the schools in our area, and we appreciate that public school is free. So we’re going with what we see as the easiest option – the default option, if you will.

As parents, Jon and I don’t have particular expectations concerning our children’s educations. We hope that they will be treated well and that their teachers will like them. We also hope that they will learn the things they need to know and generally get along well with their peers. That’s pretty much it. I don’t have a particular educational philosophy that I’m devoted to, at least not enough to seek out a school that follows that philosophy. And I am content to allow school to take place in a classroom outside our home.

Of course, we want our children to be successful. I think that all parents do, at least moderately so. As an adult, though, I have seen that the happiest people are not necessarily the smartest or the richest. They didn’t necessarily attend the best schools, or follow the most conventional paths. There is, quite simply, no easy formula for a successful life. Or, for that matter, no universal agreement on what ‘success’ looks like. I’m using it here to mean being generally satisfied with your life, and having the basic financial means to meet your needs and maybe a few wants. Others would use the term differently.

If there is no universal path to fulfillment in life, and no certain way to achieve it, then I must accept that I cannot control the outcome for my children. I cannot predict how my choice of kindergartens will or will not shape the course of their destiny. My kids may not do well in public school, not everyone does. If that situation arises, then we will address it as best we can. Unless and until it arises, though, there’s no sure-fire way of preventing it.

Perhaps we will regret the choice to enroll our children in our local public school. Perhaps we will pat ourselves on the back at our great wisdom when Hannah accepts her Nobel Peace Prize. For now, I am mostly content with our choice. And also vaguely alarmed that kindergarten registration is in a few short weeks, and that I am already reaching this milestone. Because no matter how I choose to educate my kids, I know this much for sure – my daughter might be ready for kindergarten, but I’m not sure that I am.

What about you? Do you have a particular educational philosophy that you adhere to? How have you made the decision about where to send your kids for school? I’d love to hear!

PS – Because I love a contest, I would appreciate a thumbs-up over on Babble. Search for ‘strocel.com’ – I’ve been hanging out at around 70, give or take. I am so grateful to whoever is nominating me for these contests. Your support is so appreciated, regardless of how I place!

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