Parenting Consultants' Report

As part of our multi-point response plan to The Incident, we convened a virtual meeting of our Family Security Council to discuss the long-term handling of what was going on in Maria's class.  The distinguished group includes my mom and step-dad, two teachers with a combined total of over 75 years of experience; MT’s step-mom, another career educator, and former dean of one of the main colleges of education in Minnesota; my dad, a psychologist; my step-mom, an educational psychologist for more than 30 years; two substitute teachers who love Maria (MT's mom and aunt); and my sister, a recent top grad from Berkeley in early learning and cognitive science. Not too shabby, eh?

The issues go beyond The Incident (thoroughly explained in the companion to this post) and include general difficulty listening and following instructions. (I think those were two things that were said about me in my last work evaluation...)  The discussion with our family and friends also centered on trying to figure out whether there is a larger problem with Maria, or the teacher, or both, and if so, what to do then.  Universally, our impartial consultants exhibited a willingness to cut Maria some slack.  There was some criticism of her parents, and our team criticized the teacher as well.  The consensus critique: leaving two new kindergartners alone in the bathroom, and the no-recess punishment, which seemed more excessive than effective, especially for a 5 year old whose pent-up energy was likely a contributing factor in her actions. 

My sister was critical of the seemingly knee-jerk use of fear or punishment as the incentive.  She says the real trick is to tap into self-reinforcing positive behaviors, like cooperation and compassion. That's as opposed to obedience and punishment.  As a parent, I feel that my only tools are rewards and punishments, so it's always useful to talk to her and realize there are other, more effective options.  My dad agreed, noting that in his observation of me and MT, we have allowed our children to have a voice, to have input in what happens to them, encouraging them to communicate, to articulate their reasons for wanting something. And it’s true. Both MT and I revolted against the “Because I said so” rules of our youth and, without talking about it or planning it, have adopted a very different approach, maybe to a fault. One of those things that regularly comes out of our mouths is, "Tell us your reasons.  Our reasons are...."  As a result, our daughter has become a very clever reason-giver and negotiator. (David, for his part, hasn’t moved much beyond “Because I love it,” but he, too, is starting to understand how we prefer to handle disagreements.) My dad suggested trying to use her strengths in this area to help her understand how to deal with her teacher and her frustrations.

MT’s step-mom looked past the incident and gave us some big-picture perspective.  She explained that Maria was so used to controlling her own day at day care and that her day care was a very fluid place, making room for creativity and the varied ways that kids learn and succeed. Maria could spend hours in the art area if she wanted (something she did every day), and the teachers would have her think about color patterns or story-telling in her pictures. By contrast, the fact that the kindergarten teacher is likely having to teach to kids who may not even know their letters, and the current focus of the grade school curriculum on math and reading, which misses the naturally well-rounded curiosity that kids have, especially ones like Maria, meant that Maria was now spending much less time learning through the kinds of activities that came naturally to her. She was also having to confine herself to a much more rigid schedule made up of a more transitions from one short block of time to another. Add to that, less control over her own time, and it’s not surprising that Maria was having difficulty.

My step-mom struck a chord with MT when she explained that Maria should view her school world as a community, just like she sees her family as a small community unit. She suggested that we would likely make some headway asking Maria to think about how she can help the class, and contribute to the class. She thought Maria would easily understand that her contribution would go beyond things like just cleaning up after yourself. Instead, Maria would realize that every kid had to tell the teacher what their goal was at the beginning of the year, and that the teacher has to try to help every kid reach each of their goals. Maria’s job isn’t just to reach her own goal, but to act in a way that helps the teacher help every kid to learn.

MT's mom, who has spent the last few years substituting in the school districts around town had a slightly different view.  She was most concerned with how Maria was feeling.  Knowing Maria, and very likely knowing MT, she thought that feeling ashamed and angry at the teacher would likely make things worse, and she wondered if the teacher's reactions were possibly the worst way to deal with a child like Maria.  At the same time, she has observed another hallmark of our parenting, one, that like the reasons thing, wasn't by design: at home Maria (and David) get lots of chances to do what we are asking.  And lots of last chances.  And some-times last-last chances.  Is that too many chances?  So if that's what she is accustomed to, you can't expect her to jump the first time the teacher says it.  So Maria is conditioned to ignore the first 3 or 4 requests, with the only consequence being threatened time outs.  All good things for me and MT to remember.  MT's mom also felt strongly that if Maria was already punished at school, then she shouldn't be punished again at home. 

MT's aunt came up with the idea that we would eventually implement (having used it successfully a couple times in day care): "Perhaps you could have a reward system at home. Every day that she has a good day at school, that is no time outs, etc, she could get a sticker, or something."  Aunt C. also came up with what will certainly be part of our Back-Up Plan, if we see regression or a different issue: visit the classroom for a half day.

My mom was the most critical of the teacher.  Her email response consisted of 24 separate questions to ask the teacher.  Questions like these: Are the teacher's instructions clear? If Maria is talking with her friends instead of listening, has the teacher moved her to another seat? Why can't Maria talk while doing her work? Does the teacher have a clear sign for "I'm talking now, not you. I need your attention." Some teachers raise their hands, or have a "listen to me now puppet."  Is the material too easy for Maria? Is she not being challenged?  Why were the children left in the bathroom unattended? What positive reinforcements does the teacher give? How long has she been teaching Kindergarten (not just teaching--kindergarten is quite different from say, 2nd grade or even 1st grade)?  My mom was especially worried that the teacher and the class was too rigid for a 5 year old.  And that very well may be true.  Whenever I drop off, the teacher has some soft classical music playing, and is trying very hard to project a calm, quiet, classroom.  Well, my child is not usually described as either calm or quiet.  And you know what - I like that about her.  I want her to have some wild in her, some crazy in her eyes.  I want her to be supremely confident and fearless, to be able to stand up and fight.  I want her to be charismatic and compelling, to have substance and presence.  You know, quiet and calm are entirely overrated.

In thinking about all of this, I flash back to all of the parent teacher conferences that my mom had to have with my teachers.  Like the one in first grade when the teacher said I would be a juvenile delinquent.  Who says that about a 6 year old?  That teacher had no business being out there!  No wonder my mom went all la Febe.  Then there was the classic conference in which my mom just completely destroyed the teacher with one line.  I know what kind of power my mom wields with her eyes and tone of voice, so this was a brutal knock out punch: "Well, some kids learn because of their teachers.  [Picture the eyes squinting just a bit as she inhales through her nose, and then in a low, calm tone...]  And some kids learn in spite of them."  As a kid, it was awesome to know that your mom had your back like that, and I think I realized why: it gave me and my brother (my sister never did anything wrong) power in the asymmetrical teacher-student relationship.  It wasn't that my mom disbelieved the teacher when the teacher said what we did.  She just made the teachers think she disbelieved them.  Then she'd come home, and nail us for doing whatever stupid things we had done.  But knowing that your mom wasn't going to blindly accept what the teacher said, that was worth the beat down that followed.

I tried to remember what I could about being in Maria's shoes.  I know that I got under my teachers' skins.  I remember being held out of recess on my FIRST DAY of kindergarten.  I remember my first grade teacher (and second and third and, well you get the point) writing my name on the board--with a check mark--quite a few times each week.  I remember my second grade teacher calling me out for sliding across the room on my stomach like a snake to talk to my friend on the other side of the room.  I remember my fourth grade teacher tripping over something hanging out from my desk (for like the tenth time) and her losing it, ordering me to get up, picking up my desk, and dumping the entire contents on the floor, with a "There! Now, Clean. Out. Your. Desk!" I still can't sit still.  MT has never been able to work or study near me because I am constantly moving and whistling, and tapping, and smacking.  As a kid, I must have been constantly making noise and moving, distracting the teacher and the other kids.   

I also tried to remember some of the things that my mom did that helped me.  There was a little soccer ball eraser that I took to school and could play with and rub with my thumb, to keep my hands busy.  There were the countless sticker charts from kinder on up.  I even feel like I had to do one in high school, but maybe that never happened.  I remember my parents stepping in to allow me to leave my first grade class every day to read with the second grade class (I loved that.  All of my brother's friends thought I was a genius! Talk about an incentive to read.)  I remember my parents stepping in again and getting me moved to a different teacher for the last 5 weeks of the school year one year. 

So Maria's problems seem familiar to me, and I think she is going to have to learn the same lessons that I did as a student, and that I still am learning as an adult.  Even through my thirties I am still learning that I can rub people the wrong way.  I can be a bit too much--too much talking, too much intensity or aggression, too much confidence, too much energy.  I can be annoying, like Gilbert Godfried.  I can be abrasive.  (Sometimes, I can be an asshole.  MT says I usually save those times just for her...)  So, hopefully, I can also help my kids to turn it down a little bit, to be "just enough." 

Seeing my kids (both of them) exhibiting my same traits, high energy, demanding, loud, headstrong, and then seeing how these characteristics may be making it difficult for Maria's teacher to like her or relate to her, I think my mom was only part right.  Yes, sometimes, it was a lousy teacher's fault.  Yes, sometimes the teachers had no ability to see me or to teach to me.  Yes, I learned in spite of my teachers.  But the times when I learned because of them, those were the times when I was learning in spite of myself.  Maria is going to have to learn how to do that, too.  She has to learn how to be herself, full of energy and life, while at the same time being able to know when to be still and listen, when to defer to the authority of others.  I naturally defy more than I defer.

So, I don't know if this is just the start of a longer struggle.  And, I don't know if she will ever learn how to do all that.  Come to think of it, I don't know if I ever will. 

Maybe MT is the problem...No, I meant to type something completeley different than that, like maybe MT is a good complement for us both.  Right there to help us realize how others are reacting, and right there to soften my/our edge with some comment or reminder, something to deflect the glare.  I guess that's a good thing, even if it is annoying when she kicks me under the table to make me shut it up.