School readiness
Soon, so soon, Louie will be entering kindergarten. I'd like to think of it as a great new adventure for all of us, but I have to admit that I'm really anxious about the future. I'm not worried about his readiness for school or his skill level. I'm pretty confident he will adapt to any environment. I just wonder what we're setting him up for.
Louie tested into the district gifted and talented program in the NYC public schools. And so we are very fortunate to have some choices in where he will go to school. At the same time I feel like we're about to enter an intense world of competitive parenting. The school tours are informative, but mostly I pay attention to the prospective parents. They ask good questions, things I haven't thought about, but I feel a little intimidated. These people could be our new social network. Are we going to fit in? Do we even want to?
I remember childhood quite viscerally. I loved school, but I also remember watching the clock, ready to burst out of my seat to freedom. I remember the warmth of positive feedback and that deep sinking shame when you were reprimanded. I excelled in school, but I find myself now unconcerned about Louie's academic prowess. Maybe this is because he hasn't given us reason to worry about delays or deficits. But we also try to keep things in perspective. Every child has their own unique gifts and their own timeline for development. We try very hard not to compare him (or Darren) to anyone else, or to our own childhood achievements. We want our children to lead full, joyous, meaningful lives, and we know that can come in many forms.
I find myself going from school to school, looking for a fit that I'm afraid doesn't really exist. I wish school kids spent more time outside. I wish that they were given more opportunities for self-discovery. I wish we didn't care so much what grade level their math or reading is or could be. I wish there was more racial and socioeconomic diversity in these programs. There is perennial paranoia about the demise of public schools, but I wish that, instead of (or maybe, in addition to) channeling that anxiety towards getting into these privileged programs and then raising PTA funds for our already privileged kids, we could be working to ensure there is real equity in public education. I kept hearing over and over again on the tours that parents had a loud voice in education, and I wondered if we would ever use it for someone else's kids as well as our own. I feel judgmental about so many things, not excluding my own discomfort at the level of privilege I am leveraging by being here. (How many times have I said privilege?)
Formal school is when your personal parenting journey and family life comes into sustained public view. Sometimes I feel like I'm always going against the grain. But we all are trying our best and want the best for our children, and likely for all children. The world is not tailor-made for any of us, and so maybe I should just approach the upcoming years with openness, humility and confidence that we're capable of handling any kind of adventure. Actually this lesson I should take from Louie and Darren.
Louie tested into the district gifted and talented program in the NYC public schools. And so we are very fortunate to have some choices in where he will go to school. At the same time I feel like we're about to enter an intense world of competitive parenting. The school tours are informative, but mostly I pay attention to the prospective parents. They ask good questions, things I haven't thought about, but I feel a little intimidated. These people could be our new social network. Are we going to fit in? Do we even want to?
I remember childhood quite viscerally. I loved school, but I also remember watching the clock, ready to burst out of my seat to freedom. I remember the warmth of positive feedback and that deep sinking shame when you were reprimanded. I excelled in school, but I find myself now unconcerned about Louie's academic prowess. Maybe this is because he hasn't given us reason to worry about delays or deficits. But we also try to keep things in perspective. Every child has their own unique gifts and their own timeline for development. We try very hard not to compare him (or Darren) to anyone else, or to our own childhood achievements. We want our children to lead full, joyous, meaningful lives, and we know that can come in many forms.
I find myself going from school to school, looking for a fit that I'm afraid doesn't really exist. I wish school kids spent more time outside. I wish that they were given more opportunities for self-discovery. I wish we didn't care so much what grade level their math or reading is or could be. I wish there was more racial and socioeconomic diversity in these programs. There is perennial paranoia about the demise of public schools, but I wish that, instead of (or maybe, in addition to) channeling that anxiety towards getting into these privileged programs and then raising PTA funds for our already privileged kids, we could be working to ensure there is real equity in public education. I kept hearing over and over again on the tours that parents had a loud voice in education, and I wondered if we would ever use it for someone else's kids as well as our own. I feel judgmental about so many things, not excluding my own discomfort at the level of privilege I am leveraging by being here. (How many times have I said privilege?)
Formal school is when your personal parenting journey and family life comes into sustained public view. Sometimes I feel like I'm always going against the grain. But we all are trying our best and want the best for our children, and likely for all children. The world is not tailor-made for any of us, and so maybe I should just approach the upcoming years with openness, humility and confidence that we're capable of handling any kind of adventure. Actually this lesson I should take from Louie and Darren.
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