Noooooooooo

Things Sabrina has on her plate tomorrow:

• The school Veterans Day ceremony in which her Brownie troop will be front and center
• Grandparents Day in which her grandparents (and mom) will meet her for a special, pre-paid In N Out Burger lunch
• The final day of the book fair for which Sabrina has already dimpled her way into a new book from said grandparents
• A screening of The BFG which her class has earned for reading the book over the past 3 weeks
• A Brownie workshop for which she will earn another, much coveted patch
• The last football game of the cheer season (well, that's Saturday, but you get the picture)

So of course she is sniffling, red eyed, and possibly slightly warmer than usual.  I have preemptively medicated her and am praying desperately that this is at best allergies and at worst a cold.  If you have any good juju or healthy thoughts to share with her, we would greatly appreciate it. 

I Do Not Camp Because I Should Not Camp

Last month, I helped chaperon 100 or so 5th graders, including my son, on their 3 day camp-style overnight field trip.  I am still tired.

Things I Learned Are Necessary to Chaperon 100 Kids for 3 Days

• Bring a flask.  Hide it wherever you need to, but you need to.
• Egg crates.  Lots of them.  Princess & the Pea that plastic, inch-thick torture device they call a mattress.
• Do not listen if they tell you not to bring your own food/snacks.  You are a grown up and can handle keeping you stuff neat, tidy, and bug free.  Everyone else will be doing the same.
• Do you have enough aspirin/ibuprofen/headache meds?  No, you don't.  Pack more.  Keep it with you at all times.
• Caffeinate.  Often.  More, more than that.
• It's totally OK to hate the cheery camp counselors a little.  No one should be that perky.
• Find a partner and form a tag team.  Even a 5 minute breather can make things a lot clearer.  
• Make sure said partner loves to snark on everything as much as you do. This is gold.
• The kids will try to put one over one you every single chance they get.  They will never win.  Because they're 10.
• You will be sad if they run out of time for you to do the zip line.  But this is probably OK, since you are most decidedly not 10.
• Do NOT forget the shower shoes. Camp has not changed since you were a kid.

I have lots of thoughts and feelings about this trip, and while I enjoyed watching my kids, and particularly Sammy, it's highly likely this will be my first and last long-term chaperoning gig.  Chris can take Sabrina in 3 years, something I already told him, to which he responded, "I can't get that week off."  The plywood bunk beds, man.  They're out to kill you.

 

This made it all worth it.  First volunteer and smiling all the way.

Welcome Back

(Taking it back a little, since I inadvertently took a long hiatus...)

One of the biggest things for kids as they approach the start of a new school year is finding out which teacher they will get.  At our school, they e-mail this information the day before meet the teacher night (I hate this because I know they know where all returning students are placed at the end of the previous year, but yet they wait until the last second, come on now).  Now for Sammy, it was a non-issue, because the school does something called looping, which essentially means you get the same teacher 2 years in a row (the advantages of this system, I don't really see, but whatever, no stress for us there this year).  But it was Sabrina's year for a new teacher, her first switch up since starting elementary school.

I was ridiculously nervous waiting to find out which teacher we'd have.  Yes, we.  I was planning on signing up for room mom duty or helping out in whatever way I could, and I wanted to know if the teacher and I would mesh, as well as the class makeup, so I'd know what parents I'd be dealing with.  Sabrina was largely oblivious that day.  She just wanted some of her friends in her class, and to be separated from a handful of kids who caused her trouble in the past.  We weren't even home when the e-mails went out, and I know this because Facebook blew up.  Oh, Facebook.  I was able to see who lots of families got and had a good idea of class dispersion before I even got home.  I decided to wait and check our e-mail after we'd made it back.

I really wasn't worried because all the teachers are lovely - just amped to pull the envelope.  And to be honest, I was hoping we wouldn't get the brand new, fresh out of college teacher just so I could avoid that particular set of unknowns.  So I sat down, took a deep breath, and opened my e-mail.There at the top was a message with the subject line "Welcome to Second Grade!" courtesy of Mr. W. 

Cool, a male teacher.  We don't see a lot of those in these parts, especially in elementary school. 

I called Sabrina over and excited told her her teacher's name.  And she burst into tears.

She was terrified because Mr. W had a reputation of being "mean."  Which I knew meant strict.  But I also knew that every family who'd had Mr. W in the past had nothing but glowing things to say about him.  But watching my little girl's face fall and then crumple with worry was awful.

This is where I have to eat my words and say I was glad for the delayed news and that meet the teacher was a mere 24 hours away.  Because as soon as Sabrina met Mr. W, it was clear they were kindred spirits.  Whew!

So now, we're a quarter of the way into the year, and everything seems to be rolling smoothly.  Mr. W takes no guff from any of his students, but he loves them fiercely.  Sabrina thinks it's hilarious that he makes up crazy nicknames for the kids or calls them by their last names.  He must be bringing out good things in her because she volunteers for extra homework so she can get ahead.  I love to hear her stories when she comes home.  And it's easy to be his room parent - no strange requests of ultra strict requirements.  But (there's always a but).  His birthday is coming up, and I'm in charge of putting together the class gift.  I've never done that for a male teacher.  I can't exactly get him a mani/pedi, you know?  I mean I could, but he probably wouldn't appreciate it very much. 

So this is a learning experience for all of us. 

(I really don't have any way to wrap this up, except to say that all ideas are welcome and appreciated.  I mean, I have a hard time buying birthday gifts for my husband, so this is darn near impossible.  Hit me.)

One Syllable

This morning, there was an email from Sabrina's teacher.  Now, this is not an uncommon occurrence, seeing as I'm the room mom and the chief parent correspondent.  The subject said "Recess," so I figured she needed someone to cover playground duty on the fly, and I'm usually able to do that, so no big deal, right?

Wrong.

"At recess today, Sabrina lifted her shirt and showed her boobies to some of the other kids on the playground."

Excuse me while I melt into a puddle of embarrassment goo.

Come on.  How can this be?  How many times have we discussed that certain areas on you body are private, and only a parent or doctor should look at them?  So many times I've lost count.  She knows this.  And yet, here she is, creating her own personal Mardi Gras West.

My mind went through dozens of scenarios at lightning speed.  Start with a little fear of God?  Throw down a little shock and awe?  Be sweet and friendly and then hit her with Mom Knows All?  Or worse, send her straight to Grandma?  There were so many approaches, but I had to pick just the right one.  I decided to hang back and see how much she'd give away.

I picked her up from school, and she seemed her usual self, full of leftover energy but tired from a long school day, alternating between being sweet and downright ornery.  Yes, typical.  She gave away nothing.  This continued after we got home and went through the ritual of cleaning out the backpacks and getting everything ready for the next day.  Still nothing.  So I stared at the bull and took hold of its horns.

Sabrina followed me into the bedroom and I closed the door so curious big brother wouldn't disturb us.  I asked her how recess was today.  At first, she said, "Nothing, " but when I looked her in the eye, I think she knew the jig was up and said, "You saw the email?"  And promptly burst into tears.

Embarrassment?  Guilt?  Remorse?  I figured any of these were a good enough place to start.

Once I got her to calm down enough to form partial phrases I could somewhat interpret as English, I told her to tell me her side of the story.  It took a few spits and spurts, but she told her tale."

"Jack and Penny were showing their boo boos and I wanted to show them mine, too!" 

And that's when I remembered she had a scratch on her chest, right across the breastbone, probably from roughhousing with her brother and father.

Good gravy.

And here I had visions of my darling daughter ending up in a Girls Gone Wild video, when she was really just swapping war stories with her rag tag group of friends.  And somebody mistook boo BOOs for booBIEs.  So many innocent mistakes wrapped up into a horror show of misunderstanding.

That's a heart attack I can't give back.

I hugged her, reminded her to keep her swimsuit-covered parts to herself from now on, and gave her a special snack to change the mood in the room.  A little later, I will crack open the bottle of wine I went and bought immediately after receiving the original missive.  And toast to booboobies.

You Know You Want Some Cookies

After Sabrina's first daisy scout meeting this fall, her troop leaders (friends of mine) and I were chatting and they cautiously asked if I'd consider being cookie mom for this troop this year.  I believe my response - and this was completely instinctual as I didn't have time to think at all - was "Oh God, no!"  I am very professional.

But over the past 2 months, they've looked at me with puppy dog eyes, and I finally relented, remembering how I went door to door in my little uniform with my little sheet and turned in my orders and delivered boxes and that was it.  Surely I could do this.

Oh my lands.  I had to go to Cookie Mom Training (TM mine) today (plus I have to complete another training class online), and I think I've officially bitten off more than I can chew.  Did you know you don't order cookies to be delivered later anymore?  No, I have to figure out how many boxes we want to sell and what we take, we are stuck with.  Plus, there is all this accounting and pick up plans and receipts and sign up appointments and and and.  I haven even gotten to the part where we're supposed to set up cookie selling booths and can take credit cards.  To be crass but succinct: oh crap.

Did I mention we just finished our last 2 selling/fundraising adventures this past Monday?  My head is going to explode.

Good thing we're (me and these puppy dog eye ladies don't think I'm not onto you) meeting for coffee tomorrow to go through all this business.  On second thought, we ought to meet at a bar.

Blurred Lines

I enjoy social media, I do.  I use it for what it is named - socializing, talking with people I'm not able to see in person, making friends, keeping up with far flung family.  I love being able to stay connected this way.

But I have a problem with social media seemingly becoming a requirement in life.  Specifically, Facebook.

"Mommy, my PE teacher says you need to take 3 pictures of me eating healthy meals.  You're supposed to post them on Facebook."

I get that Facebook is a great tool for sharing information, but this feels like the lines are getting blurred.  We all have different sides to us - the work version, the parent version (perhaps), the parent-of-school-kids version (also perhaps, just for example), the friend version, the private version, and we don't always want these to mix (how many of us really want our bosses checking our posts, really and truly?).  Also, there is no law that says I have to have a Facebook account, much less use it to help my kids submit homework.  I don't have to have one.  And even though I do, I want to keep my use of social media for social purposes.

Perhaps that's a naive vision, given the way society is moving.  But I just think it's a dangerous game and an extremely fine line.  Some years ago, Sammy's teacher and I developed a personal friendship that came back to hurt me when we disagreed over his treatment in class, and that was without internet intervention.  I try to keep the parent teacher relationship in a bubble now, at least until the teacher isn't my child's teacher any more (them all bets are off, as some of these people are so awesome and I really do connect with them).  So I hesitate to open a door to another part of my life to people with whom I basically have a business relationship (albeit a friendly one).

I feel as though I'm not expressing myself very well and perhaps I'll upset someone reading this, but that's not my intention.  It's not that I have anything to hide (because if I did, I certainly wouldn't be posting it for the world to find).  I'm just not comfortable with boundaries getting so distorted. 

I'll take those pictures, but they'll be printed out and sent to school the old fashioned way.

Can I Start Drinking Now?

You recall that field trip I mentioned a few days ago?  Well, the weather held, so it's on.  But I'm off.  Sigh.

Sabrina wasn't quite herself this morning, but then again she's also going through a DRAMA phase (let's just say diva doesn't quite cut it).  I had no backup babysitting available.  Since wasn't running a fever and said she was ready for school, so off we went.  All the while, I' was running scenarios in my head and decided my best bet would be to drive myself to the field trip (instead of catching a ride with a mom friend) and be ready to high-tail it outta there if I got the dreaded call.

I didn't get that far.  I ran home, showered, printed a map (yes, old school), and headed for my car.  I was rounding the trunk when my cell phone rang.  Yup, the school.  Sabrina had just barfed all over herself and 'd need to pick her up.  Joy.

I went to tell Sammy the bad news, and he wasn't happy.  But by the time I left, I think he'd accepted the situation.  He'll still have a good time.  But man, am I disappointed.  I really wanted to go on this field trip.  I know that sounds weird, but I was really looking forward to remembering a moment in my childhood (I'd been on this field trip as a student myself) and reliving it with my own child.  I'm bummed.

Perhaps there would be less bummage if my daughter hadn't walked out of the nurse's office smiling and looking for all the world like there wasn't a germ in her body.  She fairly bounced to the car (not because she was happy to leave school because she loves it, but I'm not sure exactly why).  She was also, dare I say it, proud of her in school vomitage (I'm blaming proximity to little boys and their enjoyment of bodily emissions).  She did come home and go right to bed, so maybe there is some sickness left, and I feel for her. but I'm betting she'll be completely normal before the afternoon.  She just doesn't get sick very often, and when she does, it's for but a moment.  Amazing immune system in that one.

As we left, the nurse told me that since she threw up today, she couldn't come back Friday and they'd be happy to see her Monday.  Except Monday is the first day of Thanksgiving break, so no, they won't.  But Friday is Sammy's pioneer parade, when the whole third grade dresses in pioneerish clothes (yay for recycling last year's Davy Crockett costume) and march around the school for 15 minutes.  Did I mention the lack of babysitting problem?  Yeah.  I'm either going to have to sneak her into the school to watch (which actually may work if I'm careful) or beg my neighbor (who is also coming down with something, gah sickness) to watch her for a few so I can snap some pictures.  I can't disappoint my little man 2 days in a row, so I'll figure out something.  If anybody's available from 8 to 8:15 tomorrow and willing to watch a probably not at all sick little girl, let me know.

In the meantime, I am eating apple coffee cake I found in the freezer, wishing Starbucks would deliver, and online shopping for a woe is me present.  Please send happy, germ-free thoughts and any pick me ups you can imagine.  I'll be here with my can of Lysol.

Bus Rides & Sack Lunches

Thursday is Sammy's 3rd grape field trip.  Field trip days were pretty much the best days of the school year, right?  I remember them so vividly, visits to the zoo (yes, even in high school for some reason), museums, even the bus wash (last minute change of venue, to be sure).  Kids so full of energy at the beginning, and completely drained by the ride home.  When my own kids were tiny, I imagined the day when I could tag along as a parent volunteer, just as my mom did so many times, and I'm happy to say I haven't missed one yet.  Almost once, but that's because the teacher forgot to buy my ticket.

So, Thursday, we're supposed to go to a historical park downtown, a place where I went on field trips back in the day.  I guess since history is history, this place can stay the same generation after generation.  I'm so excited.  I plan to repeat a little activity I started on last year's excursion and take along an extra point & shoot camera so I can let the kids in my charge take pictures of whatever they want (I'll download & make CDs for them afterward). Very sunrise, sunset.

However, I see the forecast is for cold & rainy weather.  Joy.  Think good thoughts for a turnaround, please?  I mean, this is Texas.  If you don't like the weather, just wait a minute.  I'm hoping that minute brings sunshine.

Grandparents Day

Last week, the kids' school (it's still so weird to say the kids' school - plural kids - because I still can't believe they're both elementary school age since I am not nearly old enough for that, ahem) hosted Grandparents and Special Friends Day, where the titular people were invited to spend lunchtime with their child(ren) of note, eat in the cafeteria if they wished (not sure too many folks partook of that offering), and visit said kids' classrooms.  Oh, and escort their shorties to the book fair, from which they likely would leave slightly less wealthy.

Sweet day of sharing or elaborate ruse for fundraising?  You decide.

I'll just take cute pictures.

Setting Out on the Right Foot

Starting this school year, our school district issued iPads to all the ninth graders (and possibly to the entire high school, but I'm not sure about that, so let's just go with the freshman, with plans to continue to add in future years).  I had heard this was coming, but I really didn't know much about it, having no current dog in this hunt.  But I'm finding out more and more about the program, and indeed, the plans for technology use in middle and elementary school around here, and it's raising a lot of questions in my mind.

As I understand it, the freshman use their (school property) iPads for just about everything - their schedules, their textbooks, their notebooks.  They are required to submit assignments via the device, even when they might more easily turn them in written on actual paper.  They have the technology with them all the live long day.  That much I know for sure.

What I can divine from the situation is that the program is so new, there are a lot of holes.  Downloaded material and apps aren't are completed vetted as they need to be  In fact, it seems like higher ups are pushing for extensive classroom use even when the teachers don't have a full grasp on how to implement them (it would seem they are left with the task of figuring out what apps and website to use).  And as I'm hearing, security measures are not robust.  There was an incident early in the year when students were instructed to download an app, and when they complied, inappropriate pictures popped up on the screens.  Clearly, this was an accident or virus or something else unintended, but it happened nonetheless.

I also heard tell of a sixth grade teacher requiring her class to get Twitter accounts.  Requiring.  11 year olds.  To engage in social media.

I am all kinds of mixed up about this.  I love technology.  I love iPads, tablets, smartphones, and all kinds of devices.  My kids use tablets on a regular basis because I see them as a better alternative to handheld gaming devices that use expensive cartridges.  I can control what apps get downloaded and can choose games that have educational value for my particular kids at their particular ages.  I believe iPad use has helped my son improve his hand eye coordination.  And in some cases, Sammy has learned better and faster using a computer than more traditional classroom methods (specifically reading - he took a major jump in his ability when he started using a program called Read Naturally).  The internet has allowed me to meet people  that I would likely never have met in real life (stupid geography) and find friends that are a lot like me (introverted and shy).  I am grateful for the world wide web.

But here's where I'm torn.  I believe technology has a place in the classroom, but not as the be all, end all.  Yes, children need to learn about and how to use technology because that's a big part of the world today.  But they don't need technology to learn.  The fundamental concepts of elementary, middle, and high school do not require technology to be taught.  The require the information (texts), someone to explain the information (teachers), a means to record that information for future review (notes), and a means to determine how that information is being retained (I'll use the word tests here with the caveat that I don't only mean written or standardized testing).  There are lots of ways to have all of these things, which is good because kids learn in lots of different ways.  In a way, making students use an electronic device for almost 100% of those 4 elements is forcing all students to learn the same way, which seems counter-intuitive. 

I also worry that, especially without really strong limitations, that devices in students' hands in the classroom might provide significant distraction.  If the wifi is open so students can upload work and download material, they likely can skip over to non-sanctioned forums like games or social media.  In fact, I've heard from one middle school that he can sit in the back of class and count the number of classmates he can see on Twitter, Facebook, or Angry Birds.  It takes passing notes and talking in class to a new level, one that probably drive the teachers batty. 

I'm typing all these thoughts out and I realize I'm not exactly forming a cohesive or even coherent argument of any kind, but I wanted to talk about this issue because it's new and it's coming for all our kids, some maybe sooner than later, but all of our kids.  What is the right amount of technology use in the classroom?  How does it change as kids get older?  How do we put controls in place to keep technology use to its intended educational purpose?  What security measures can be used to keep kids safe online without limiting their ability to work?  How do we get through to kids that technology, while wonderful and useful, is full of noise and distraction and, yes, danger?  And how do parents work with the schools to figure all this stuff out?

It all makes me feel very old.  What's wrong with a red pencil and a Big Chief tablet?  What - no, you get off my lawn!

It's just such a big concept, and I'm struggling with it.  I don't know what the right answers are, but I'm happy to discuss how to figure it out.  I think it comes down to balance.  We have to find the right balance in the classroom.  We need to teach the kids that their devices are just tools like any other and have their specific uses. 

I could go on and on, but I'd probably get even more lost and end up wondering about nanobots in the water system or something, so I'll wrap this up.  Tell me, as technology seeps more deeply through our kids' lives, what do you think the role of electronic devices should be in the classroom?

(One day, we'll look about on this issue and think how precious we were worrying about tablets in school when we have robot armies to deal with.)

Creativity

Me: "Is there anything new or different you'd like for your school snacks?"

Sammy: "Well, how about some vanilla wafers?"

Me: "Do you think that would be OK? I don't want to get in trouble for sending you cookies for a snack."

Sabrina: "Sammy, just say they're made from nuts and whole grains. Those are good for you!"

Return of the Prodigal Blogger

Well, it seems I took a hiatus for most of the summer.  Whoops.  I really didn't mean to do that.

It was a good summer.  Busy, not as organized as I'd like, but good.  Fun.  Over a little bit too soon even.  I know lots of people who were really to toss their kids out of a moving vehicle come the first day of school, but I was sad watching them walk into the building.  I got used to our more free form days, and let's face, I wasn't so jazzed about having to get up at 6 AM for the next 9 months.  But that's neither here nor there, and now that we're settling into a school time routine, I can feel the calm a regular schedule brings.  Or at least "calm."  It's a relative term around here.

Notice I said kids - plural - walking into the school building - singular.  Both kids in the same school, same hours, legit.  This is weird to me.  I mean, they've both been going to school in some form for years, but now there are no more partial weeks or shortened hours or (thank heaven) individual  locations.  I walk them both to the elementary school, hug them goodbye (how long am I going to be allowed to do that?), and watch them go off together to their school.  Theirs.  Together.  This shouldn't feel strange, but it does, at least for now. 

Perhaps it my general, constant state of anxiety feeding itself.  I'm nothing if I don't have something to worry about.

Anyway.  Two kids in school.  Crazy busy summer.  Me, slightly and continually off my rocker.

Seeing as I've been off the grid (well, not really, I suppose I just ran away from this here space for awhile), I think I shall hit the highlights from the summer.  Because everybody loves a rundown of other's people vacations, right?

• I got especially worried about the onset of 3rd grade even before 2nd grade ended, so I planned all these lessons and projects and reading times for Sammy.  Yeah, that didn't exactly work out like I wanted.  But we did get some things done and I hope it gives him a head start this year.  As much as I detest our state's reliance on standardized tests (and that's a whole nuther blog post, letmetellya), they become a fact of life this year.  And so, I fret.  (Hopefully not in front of my sweet boy, who deserves to have a great year despite his neurotic mother.)

• Both kids took swim lessons again this year.  But unlike last year, they weren't such a good time.  Sabrina developed a sudden fear of not being able to touch the bottom of the pool and spent several days screaming at the top of her lungs.  The thing is, she can swim.  She just doesn't believe it.  If she forgets herself for a minute, she's a little fish.  Maybe next year she'll be able to get out of her head and just go with it.

No fear here.

• Sammy is a tall, gangly boy who doesn't quite realize he has arms and legs that he can control.  Sammy's swim instructor was a little bit bowled over by this, given that she was trying to get him to hit goals for Level 4 when he was only in Level 3, but he had fun anyway.  He's not going to be Michael Phelps, but he isn't going to drown, so I'm putting that in the Summer: Win column.

• Speaking of Sammy (and it's usually one or the other, isn't it?), he started karate this summer.  The studio had a summer special, and Chris was really keen on Sammy trying something athletic having something to occupy his time, so we signed him up.  In the back of my mind, I figured that since Sammy's usual attention span makes a gnat look thoughtful, this wouldn't last too long and maybe not even the whole summer (anyone who saw him play soccer remembers that he never actually knew where the ball was at any given time).  But boy, was I wrong.  He went to class - willingly - almost every day he could (and sometimes twice) and practiced his moves at home.  The instructor told me Sammy was doing everything he asked of him and more.  He even tested for and earned his yellow belt.  He loves it.  He talks about earning his black belt, which he knows will take several years.  Everyone says it's good for him.  And even though he still looks to me as though his brain and his limbs have very little connection, he's trying and learning and engaging.  So it looks like we'll be sticking with this (but oh, my bank account is crying).  It just might be his thing.

• We took our somewhat annual vacation pilgrimage to visit family again this year, but we changed it up to visit friends and relatives in other parts of the country.  We started off with a bang, by which I got to meet this lovely lady and her husband: 

Internet, I know you're jealous. (Thank you, Internet, for making this possible!)

• Then we headed off to see my great uncle Larry (that makes him the kids' great great uncle, for those playing the family relation game) and his whole family at a reunion of sorts.  Long story short (too late), my kids are ready to move in.  My cousin Katie (3rd? 4th? 17th twice removed? I have no idea) has three girls ages 4 to 7 1/2 (and a 1 year old boy), and I'm fairly sure that Sabrina thought she was becoming the 4th sister.  Peas and carrots, these girls.  We had a blast at my cousin Terrie's house, where the kids had free reign over a trampoline, playhouse, and  a swimming pool, not to mention several kid-sized vehicles they (ahem, Sammy) drove all over the property.  Sammy also made fast friends with Terrie's husband Jeff (grandpa to the aforementioned girls + boy), who has been waiting patiently for years to do boy things with a grandkid (not too much longer, Jeff - you've to two grandsons growing as fast as they can).  Sammy stepped into that role quite nicely.  Plus, basements.  Oh my lands, do my kids love a basement.  I'm pretty sure they're ready to start digging right now.  Sammy even asked for a basement for his birthday.  And I can't even get into the breathtaking joy that is a riding lawnmower.  Sammy heaven!

 

• We spent another few days with the rest of the extended family after the reunion, and you're think that might be peaceful, but no.  Road trips with us are never uneventful.  So for this edition, we were treated to a tornado.  But.  For one thing, it happened in the middle of the night and we never heard it because we were sleeping in a basement.  I love me some basement - the kids come by their fascination naturally - but now I'm just about ready to start digging, too.  Also, by our standard, this was a dinky tornado.  The vast majority of damage was to trees, and it was sad to see such beautiful things twisted and cracked, but no one was killed.  No one was even hurt, as a matter of fact.  The worst was a woman who had a panic attack.  Seriously, this was the news story.  A panic attack.  Perhaps my perspective is a bit skewed, living in tornado country, but no death equals victory in my book. (Also, the nerd in me took great pride in explaining the difference between straight line winds and tornadoes to my relatives.)
 

• There was also vacation bible school, lots of swimming, playing with friends, Sammy's 9th (!) birthday, and vast amounts of food, but this is getting incredibly long so I won't go into great detail.  Suffice it to say we did not stop going (or eating) for 3 solid months.

And with that, I shall close.  Just reading all that makes me tired all over.  Are you tired, too?  You should go take a nap.  Or have a cocktail.  Or both.  You deserve it.

Soapbox

Today I'm going to rant a little bit about something that affects, I'm guessing, no one who reads this stuff.  But I don't have anywhere else to go with this, and it's festering, and I can't stand the fester any longer.  So I'm going to talk about preschool.  Please feel free to skip right on by.

This is the third year I've had a child in this particular school, and the second year that child has been Sabrina.  For Sammy, they had a program that we really needed, given his extremely late summer birthday, communication delays, and the lack of support for such kids through our school district.  I was so happy to find a 5 year old pre-K that would allow him an extra year to mature and learn before jumping headlong into real school (and not to terrify you, parents of younger children, kindergarten, around here at least, is real school, but that's a discussion for another day).  This was the place where we discovered that Sammy needed more than just speech therapy, and even though that was a grueling and frustrating journey to go through, I'm glad we went through it here instead of a bona fide general ed classroom.  So, when Sabrina was 3, I didn't hesitate to enroll her at the same school.

And her 3 year old year was tremendous.  She was constantly learning new things and amazing us with them, to the point where she stunned a random group of grocery stoppers with her knowledge of various varieties of apples.  She loved her classmates (except for 1, and there's always 1, isn't there?) and her teachers were clearly meant for this role.  4 year old class was a no brainer.

At the end of the previous year, the longtime school director retired.  You might see where I'm going with this.

The first thing that happened was our tight little class of 12 was broken up among 4 classes.  Now, I wasn't really surprised by this because I get that classes are jumbled year to year, but I thought maybe with preschool, they might just bump the whole group up.  No biggie - I just wish I'd known that I could have requested certain teachers or classmates and have those requests taken seriously because I sure would have (as apparently some parents did).  But when the year started, I just didn't get a good vibe from the new teachers or the new director.  I tried to brush my gut aside for the most part and just let Sabrina go.  But now that we're 2 weeks away from the end of the line, and I don't have any more children waiting in the wings, I can say my gut was right and I am disappointed with how this year has gone.  

Sabrina hasn't learned near as much as she did the year before, and this is the time in her life when she should be exposed to everything so she can soak it all up like the little sponge that she is.  There has been no focus at all on learning to read beyond practicing letter sounds, and while it's not necessary for her to be able to read entering kindergarten, I can see that she's ready to learn, wants to learn, and many of her classmates are chomping at the bit, too.  In response to this concern, the director said that they focus on learning through play (OK, fine), don't want to push the kids to learn a skill too early (hrm), and some kids aren't ready to learn to read yet.  It's the last part that gets me.  If kids are taught to the lowest common denominator, then classes would never learn.  I'm sure they can see which kids are showing readiness or not, and work a little bit with those who are.  Why not expose the kids to some early reading techniques, and if there are some who aren't into it, let them do something more their speed.  

And there are other things.  They've cut out some many parties and celebrations, which weren't that elaborate to being with - just a snack, a craft, and a story really - with the explanation that some parents can't come because of work and they don't want those kids to be stressed out because of that.  I don't know where to start with that one.  Teachers and parents aren't allowed to communicate through e-mail.  No idea why (something about in the past some parents got too friendly with teachers, so let's blame an inanimate object for that).  And gee, if you didn't look at that 1 memo with a tentative schedule for the year (seriously, lots of TBD there) and commit it to memory, then it's your fault if you miss something, because heaven forbid we be reminded nearer the actual date.  Gah!

The pre-K program that was so helpful for Sammy, and lots of other summer birthday kids?  Gone.   Just doesn't exist anymore.  If your kid turns 5 over the summer, you have the options of a) going back to the 4 year old class, or b) nothing.  Mind you, for years this program had a waiting list.

I think it goes without saying that the Mother's Day teas I enjoyed with my kids in years past did not happen this year.

I wish I could say something to somebody somewhere that would help future parents and teachers and improve the situation in some way, but I can't.  I don't want to come off as some complaining harpy or worse, and I don't think anything I have to say will be received in the constructive way I intend it (see response to reading readiness inquiry).  I just want it to be better for the kids and I don't know how to make that happen.  In the few halting conversations I've had with other parents, I know I'm not alone in my feelings, and that makes me sad.

My hope is that the school realizes some of these issues and takes steps to improve things in the coming years.  If I can find an outlet to tell them, I will.  It really has been an exceptional environment for my kids, and I want others to be able to experience that.

And now, rant over.  Onward to (gulp) kindergarten!

Release of Breath

This morning, I went to meeting at school about Sammy.  This isn’t the first such meeting, and it won’t be the last, so I know how things work.  But, me being me, I always get at least a little nervous that I’ll be blindsided with something and I’ll end up in tears (it’s happened before).

End of story first: that didn’t happen.  Far from it.  In fact, I dare say this is the best meeting I’ve ever had about my son.  Everything was about how well he’s doing this year – improved attention, more engagement, better socializing, amped-up confidence, new skills demonstrated.  It was fantastic.  When the routine question about behavior problems was asked, everyone in the room said there were none.  Yes, he still has challenges.  Yes, he’s quirky, hard to focus, and sometimes overly enthusiastic to the point of loud.  But they understand him better and they understand how to work with him better.  They have been learned, and consequently, he has been learning.  I mean, they showed me how he voluntarily took notes on a video (he wasn’t told to do so) using complete sentences and proper punctuation.  Man.  Wow.

It’s clear his teacher is a much better fit for him.  She told me straight out that his issues and idiosyncrasies don’t bother her and that she thinks he is a smart, eager to learn little boy.  This is so different from his teacher last year would list his non-normal habits and behaviors as if ticking off items in her garbage can.  It didn’t realize how bad that made me feel, both for Sammy and as his mom, until I didn’t hear that kind of thing anymore.  I can finally exhale.

I know we all have a long road to go, but we can see where we’re headed for the first time.  I’m sure the course will change and we’ll get lost along the way, but we’re moving forward, and that feels amazing.

Getting a Little Loopy

Has anyone heard about looping?  No, I'm not starting a knitting group.

The looping I mean is when an entire class of students plus the teacher move up together from one grade to the next, so that they all stay together for 2 years instead of 1.  It's an interesting concept, allowing the familiarity that develops over a school year to flow into the next.  It also may give at-risk students a sense of stability for a longer period of time, promoting a comfort level that will give them the room the need to grow.  It makes sense on paper.

When Sammy started kindergarten, I'd never heard of looping.  His teacher was sweet and very innovative with her class, which covered a wide range of abilities.  I was happy with the mix, so when I read the letter that said Sammy had the option of going on to 1st grade with the same teacher, I immediately said yes.  We wouldn't have to deal with any potential anxiety at the start of the next year becaue we'd know exactly where he was going.  Easy peasy.

The thing about Sammy is that he is different.  He doesn't fall into any one box or category, and no label exactly fits him.  But we know he needs special education intervention in school.  That was in place in kindergarten, and we hoped - hope- that one day that intervention will dwindle once he matures. He's making progress every day.

At some point during the second half of kindergarten, the teacher decided to move Sammy's desk to the front of the classroom, away from the other kids, to give him a better opportunity to focus.  When we walked into 1st grade that 1st day, his desk was in the exact same place, separated from everyone else at the front of the room.  You couldn't miss his isolation.  He was singled out on day 1, even though an entire summer had passed and 3 months is a long time for a kid to grow.  In fact, the educational leap the kids were expected to make from the end of kindergarten to the beginning of 1st grade was quite dramatic.  And it was already assumed that Sammy didn't change at all.

We struggled throughout the year, trying to overcome the teacher's preconceptions, but it was clear that she had done everything she thought she could do with him and had in essence pushed him off to the side to finish out the year.  Thank goodness his special ed teacher and other coordinators stepped in to change things so he would be given an environment to really learn (and that he did, making a lot of progress on the back 9, so to speak).  I was very glad to see the year end and looked forward to a fresh new beginning in the fall

Looking back, I really think that if Sammy had moved on to a new class in1st grade, I would consider his kindergarten experience a positive one, but knowing how 1st grade played out, it's a little tainted now.  And that's a shame.

2nd grade has started off nicely.  The new teacher knows her stuff, and having been somewhat versed on That Which Is Sammy (I still have to get with her and share a little more), she seems to be encouraging him in the right ways and is encouraged by his work as well.  I think it helps that she's new to the school and school district, but not new to teaching 2nd grade.  She's still finding her footing as well.  And Sammy still has his team helping him every step of the way.  But at parent teacher night, I learned that the school is planning to loop everybody next year, such that all kindergarten class move up to 1st grade, 2nd grade classes move to 3rd, and 4th grade classes move to 5th.  And that makes me nervous.  I know we're only at the beginning, and there are a lot of weeks to go before we're actually faced with a looping situation, but I will definitely be on guard throughout this entire year before I'm ready to commit to this business.  I can probably write a letter to opt out when the time comes, but that's a whole different kettle of fish because I wouldn't want to be seen as the lady bucking the system (and inadvertently creating an uncomfortable situation for Sammy in the classroom).  Basically, I'm just going to worry.

It's certainly never boring.

What do you think about class looping?  Have you been through it?  Would you do it again?  Would you jump into it if offered for the 1st time?  I'm just curious.