It's not often that I decide to take to this blog and write something I feel irritated about. The last time I did so I got a bit of a scolding (which was well-deserved) by a reader and am fully anticipating the same for this post as well. But I'm willing to woman up and take whatever responses I get.
In the last six months or so I've taken to doing occasional babysitting in my area using sites such as Care.com and Sittercity.com. These sites help parents find (hopefully) responsible sitters who meet their criteria for different jobs, both long- and short-term. If you haven't checked them out and are interested in either finding a sitter or doing some sitting, I highly recommend them. I've had background checks done on both sites, courtesy of interested parents, and have met some nice families.
In my area of the country, babysitting goes for all prices, but generally for one job, a skilled sitter gets paid between $10-$15 dollars an hour. A less experienced sitter might get paid between $5 and $10 an hour. Of course, every parent is open to set the price at whatever s/he feels as being reasonable and affordable. I've actually seen jobs as low as $3 an hour and nanny jobs even less than that. Because I have over twenty years of experience and a master's degree in education, I generally charge roughly $10 an hour. I let parents know that I'm usually negotiable with that price. I have also volunteered to watch children for next to nothing when I have seen families who are truly struggling and I have a free day. I don't want to get into justification of my price, but I paid $7 an hour to my sitters (college students) ten years ago when my children were young. We couldn't afford it often and consequently didn't go out much. We also lived in a different area of the country.
This morning I got an email in response to an ad I answered earlier in the week. I had told this parent, as I have in the past, that my rate is $10 an hour but I can be a bit negotiable with that. She said she had thought she was going to cancel her plans but then changed her mind. Then came the part of the email that I've seen becoming more and more common: "I've decided not to pay more than $8 an hour because my child will be sleeping and it's an easy job."
This excuse (and let's be honest, that's really what it is) is becoming more and more popular with parents. I've actually seen parents who want to split the time and the price between waking and sleeping hours. Here's the reason that doesn't work. Regardless of what your child is doing while a sitter is there, your sitter still has to be there and be responsible. Whether a sitter is playing with your child or monitoring his or her sleep, they are still responsible for your child. Not half-responsible, FULLY responsible. Your sitter still had to drive to your house (in our area sometimes fifteen to twenty miles) and commit to the care of your child. If your child awakens, your sitter isn't going to say, "Sorry, kid, I'm on half time now." If a, god forbid, fire or some other disaster were to happen, the sitter wouldn't leave your child, or do half a job because the child is now in bed. My point is that it really doesn't matter whether the child is asleep or not; my job as a sitter doesn't end until you walk through that door. I'm not allowed to run to 7-11, Redbox, my own house, or anything else. I'm going to monitor your child just as I would my own young one to ensure their health and safety are protected. Just because I'm not feeding your child or building a Lego tower doesn't mean I'm not working. Lots of other jobs have "down times" where workers are required to be on site for emergencies but not necessarily doing the same thing they are doing during other periods, but they don't get paid less during those hours.
I'll be the first person to say that this economy is horrible, and it's difficult to make ends meet. But if you can't afford to pay your sitter a respectable rate for a voluntary night out, then maybe it's time to pop some popcorn and stay in.
As for the parent who contacted me earlier today, I have chosen to turn down the job. She lives more than ten miles from me and I do consider that when I set my rate and my willingness to negotiate it. I'm sure she will find somebody who is willing to sit for $8 an hour. I wish her and her son the best. But in the meantime, I hope that parents everywhere will consider the implications of lowering pay for sleeping children. It's an insulting idea, if nothing else, and a dangerous precedent to imply a sitter is only partially working while children sleep. Personally, I always felt my children were particular vulnerable when they were sleeping. Just because the form of the job changes doesn't mean it isn't still a job.
Pay a sitter what you can afford, but don't insult them by implying they're somehow working less when your child goes to sleep.
Friday, December 30, 2011
Thursday, December 1, 2011
Tried and True: Gathering for Rudolph
So I approached the other night with a healthy dose of holiday cheer, and it wasn't until a friend of mine sent me a message that I realized: Rudolph was on! It was nearly 8:30 p.m. and I had already missed the first half of it, but I quickly flipped the channel over and settled in to enjoy the Island of Misfit Toys.
"Are you serious?" my twelve-year old said, with just a touch of a snide tone. "Rudolph, Mom? I don't wanna watch this!" She sunk down on the loveseat anyway, making herself comfortable.
Despite the fact I probably didn't need to respond, I said quickly, "Well, I'd like to watch it...look! All those poor misfit toys!" And we sat in silence for several minutes, watching the toys sing their sad song of being unloved. Personally, I was reliving memories from being ten years old and watching Rudolph with my classmates as we waited to go on stage and sing a Christmas medley for our parents.
"Oh hey," my fourteen year old approached. "Look! It's Abominie...isn't that his name? That big snow guy?" He wandered through the room and over to do some laundry.
"The Abominable Snowman," I said, and my twelve-year old piped up, "Yeah! Cornelius is gonna get him!"
And thus I was reminded of the magic of traditions. Rudolph is such an American tradition that most children see him as a beloved sign of Christmas. I was immediately taken back thirty years to reflect upon a time when I was a child, and my children—even though they're tween and teen—took great joy in reminiscing, even for a short while, in the pleasure of Rudolph.
For years I have wondered about families who really watched the twenty-five days of Christmas, but after our experience with Rudolph the other night, it reminded me that there are wonderful programs that we all feel warmly satisfied with in our souls. Whether it's The Grinch, Rudolph, Frosty, or one of the many Santa Claus favorites, we all have a favorite we identify with and want to pass on to our children.
And that sharing is part of the spirit of Christmas, no doubt.
"Are you serious?" my twelve-year old said, with just a touch of a snide tone. "Rudolph, Mom? I don't wanna watch this!" She sunk down on the loveseat anyway, making herself comfortable.
Despite the fact I probably didn't need to respond, I said quickly, "Well, I'd like to watch it...look! All those poor misfit toys!" And we sat in silence for several minutes, watching the toys sing their sad song of being unloved. Personally, I was reliving memories from being ten years old and watching Rudolph with my classmates as we waited to go on stage and sing a Christmas medley for our parents.
"Oh hey," my fourteen year old approached. "Look! It's Abominie...isn't that his name? That big snow guy?" He wandered through the room and over to do some laundry.
"The Abominable Snowman," I said, and my twelve-year old piped up, "Yeah! Cornelius is gonna get him!"
And thus I was reminded of the magic of traditions. Rudolph is such an American tradition that most children see him as a beloved sign of Christmas. I was immediately taken back thirty years to reflect upon a time when I was a child, and my children—even though they're tween and teen—took great joy in reminiscing, even for a short while, in the pleasure of Rudolph.
For years I have wondered about families who really watched the twenty-five days of Christmas, but after our experience with Rudolph the other night, it reminded me that there are wonderful programs that we all feel warmly satisfied with in our souls. Whether it's The Grinch, Rudolph, Frosty, or one of the many Santa Claus favorites, we all have a favorite we identify with and want to pass on to our children.
And that sharing is part of the spirit of Christmas, no doubt.
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Saving Time and Money at the Mall
Ah, the great shopping mall at Christmas...the symbol of all that is so typically, well, American. Everywhere you look are the signs of what so many of us consider to be the problem with the Christmas holiday, as well as the pressure cooker of keeping up with every other family. Malls send us the mistaken message that all shoppers can afford hundreds of dollars in presents for their loved ones. Walk by the Apple store in my local mall on any given day and one would think the average American has hundreds, if not thousands, in disposable pocket money. The same mall is anchored with a Nordstrom's and a Dillard's, both high end stores. So why in the world would this budgeting mama encourage a trip to the mall with a tween?
Because I remember very clearly what it was like to be a tween myself. I remember vividly all the outfits presented to me at Christmas that were just slightly off, veering from cute to nerdy (sorry Mom!). I remember all the exchanges my poor mother made after Christmas. And I don't intend to spend my valuable shopping time after Christmas standing in the return lines.
My tween is almost thirteen. She has definite ideas of what she likes and doesn't like, particularly when it comes to what she wears. I have specific things I am looking to get her—a winter hat and gloves, and both can be found in a reasonably priced store hidden in a back corner of the mall. We will do some window shopping to get some ideas of what she would like for Christmas other than gift cards (I hate giving gift cards). We get to spend some time together looking at pretty things and getting some ideas of what the other wants for Christmas. In addition, today is $5 movie day. I have a rewards card with the movie theater, and the theater will also comp me the cost of my parking. So I'll pay $10 for parking and a movie for two, plus get the credits on my rewards card, which may very well give us a free snack or drink. Not a bad deal.
The trick with visiting a mall, I find, is to stay focused on the goal at hand, which is NOT to purchase anything today. It's to get ideas of what my tween likes and wants. Once I have those ideas, I can purchase the items from the semi-affordable store in the mall...OR I can purchase it somewhere less expensive. Either way, my tween feels heard, we have a nice afternoon outing, and mom saves a few bucks. Not bad for an otherwise boring Tuesday afternoon, huh?
Because I remember very clearly what it was like to be a tween myself. I remember vividly all the outfits presented to me at Christmas that were just slightly off, veering from cute to nerdy (sorry Mom!). I remember all the exchanges my poor mother made after Christmas. And I don't intend to spend my valuable shopping time after Christmas standing in the return lines.
My tween is almost thirteen. She has definite ideas of what she likes and doesn't like, particularly when it comes to what she wears. I have specific things I am looking to get her—a winter hat and gloves, and both can be found in a reasonably priced store hidden in a back corner of the mall. We will do some window shopping to get some ideas of what she would like for Christmas other than gift cards (I hate giving gift cards). We get to spend some time together looking at pretty things and getting some ideas of what the other wants for Christmas. In addition, today is $5 movie day. I have a rewards card with the movie theater, and the theater will also comp me the cost of my parking. So I'll pay $10 for parking and a movie for two, plus get the credits on my rewards card, which may very well give us a free snack or drink. Not a bad deal.
The trick with visiting a mall, I find, is to stay focused on the goal at hand, which is NOT to purchase anything today. It's to get ideas of what my tween likes and wants. Once I have those ideas, I can purchase the items from the semi-affordable store in the mall...OR I can purchase it somewhere less expensive. Either way, my tween feels heard, we have a nice afternoon outing, and mom saves a few bucks. Not bad for an otherwise boring Tuesday afternoon, huh?
Monday, November 28, 2011
Creative Christmas...or how to do christmas on a very strict budget
We moved to Virginia to be near my family approximately seventeen months ago. In that amount of time I've had—and quit—three different jobs. My husband has had one temporary job. To say the job market is tight here is putting it mildly. The last job I had caused me tremendous stress, which caused more trouble for my physically, to the point that I could not complete what I needed to in order to do well. So I followed my gut and quit.
I'm not always the most reasonable person, as several people were quick to remind me. On top of it, our cars, both of them, chose this week to break down. One needs a replacement tire, and the other needs a couple thousand dollars worth of repairs.
Fortunately I'm a stasher. I stash all sorts of stuff everywhere. I have a "Disney account" that we'll be tapping into, and a retirement account from when I was in my early twenties that I never rolled over that I may have to use. The most frustrating part is knowing we are just one phone call away from everything turning around. So many of my friends across the country are in similar situations, doing whatever they can to make ends meet.
My first and biggest stressor, ironically, was thinking about how I was going to provide a fun and meaningful Christmas for my kids. They're young teenagers now, and material goods are highly valued. Gone are the days where a few puzzles and a dolly would make a grand Christmas. These days it's video games, iPods, cell phones, and whatever other gadgety equipment they can get their hands on. It's clear with our budget this year, there are not going to be a tremendous number of expensive gadgets gracing the tree. But I am determined that my family will have a joyous Christmas no matter what. So here's my plan.
1. Focus on the meaning of the Christmas season. Talk about how we give to others and how it makes us feel, and how that Christmas spirit is especially alive right now. I think when times are tough, it's even more important to talk with kids about the "true" meaning of Christmas, and how God's gifts to us are still alive today.
2. Schedule fun and free (or low cost) family activities each week. Some of the things we'll be doing include baking cookies for people who are shut in, taking walks around the neighborhood to see the decorations, driving through neighborhoods to enjoy the lights as we sip cocoa, and watching classic Christmas movies and cartoons. Making easy ornaments will be on the list too!
3. Find out what the kids want to do to celebrate Christmas. My twelve year old told me last night that she wants to have an "unplugged" evening, where all electronics are off, and we just sit around, drink cider, and talk. Ironically, things like this are often the memories we cherish.
4. Set an affordable budget and STICK TO IT. My budget is quite small but it will purchase a couple of things my kids really want. I also have an entertainment budget, and I use coupons and specials to stretch it farther. Since my kids are older, we can do free things on the weekend, when they're more expensive, and more costly things during the week, when the rates are cheaper. I have made a hard and fast rule for several years now not to carry ANY credit charges through the season. If I can't pay for it with cash, it doesn't get purchased.
5. Talk with your kids and explain how this Christmas may be different and why. My kids are old enough to understand our financial constraints. Younger children may be satisfied with an explanation of "We're going to do some things a little different this Christmas! It will be fun to try these new things!"
The most important thing to remember, in my opinion, is that our attitudes as adults will carry over to our children. If we have positive attitudes that focus on the important aspects of the season, we will be rewarded with children who will also begin to develop positive attitudes and respect for what we see as being important.
Check back here regularly for our plans for the season! And feel free to leave your own ideas in comments as to how you're making this Christmas a special one!
I'm not always the most reasonable person, as several people were quick to remind me. On top of it, our cars, both of them, chose this week to break down. One needs a replacement tire, and the other needs a couple thousand dollars worth of repairs.
Fortunately I'm a stasher. I stash all sorts of stuff everywhere. I have a "Disney account" that we'll be tapping into, and a retirement account from when I was in my early twenties that I never rolled over that I may have to use. The most frustrating part is knowing we are just one phone call away from everything turning around. So many of my friends across the country are in similar situations, doing whatever they can to make ends meet.
My first and biggest stressor, ironically, was thinking about how I was going to provide a fun and meaningful Christmas for my kids. They're young teenagers now, and material goods are highly valued. Gone are the days where a few puzzles and a dolly would make a grand Christmas. These days it's video games, iPods, cell phones, and whatever other gadgety equipment they can get their hands on. It's clear with our budget this year, there are not going to be a tremendous number of expensive gadgets gracing the tree. But I am determined that my family will have a joyous Christmas no matter what. So here's my plan.
1. Focus on the meaning of the Christmas season. Talk about how we give to others and how it makes us feel, and how that Christmas spirit is especially alive right now. I think when times are tough, it's even more important to talk with kids about the "true" meaning of Christmas, and how God's gifts to us are still alive today.
2. Schedule fun and free (or low cost) family activities each week. Some of the things we'll be doing include baking cookies for people who are shut in, taking walks around the neighborhood to see the decorations, driving through neighborhoods to enjoy the lights as we sip cocoa, and watching classic Christmas movies and cartoons. Making easy ornaments will be on the list too!
3. Find out what the kids want to do to celebrate Christmas. My twelve year old told me last night that she wants to have an "unplugged" evening, where all electronics are off, and we just sit around, drink cider, and talk. Ironically, things like this are often the memories we cherish.
4. Set an affordable budget and STICK TO IT. My budget is quite small but it will purchase a couple of things my kids really want. I also have an entertainment budget, and I use coupons and specials to stretch it farther. Since my kids are older, we can do free things on the weekend, when they're more expensive, and more costly things during the week, when the rates are cheaper. I have made a hard and fast rule for several years now not to carry ANY credit charges through the season. If I can't pay for it with cash, it doesn't get purchased.
5. Talk with your kids and explain how this Christmas may be different and why. My kids are old enough to understand our financial constraints. Younger children may be satisfied with an explanation of "We're going to do some things a little different this Christmas! It will be fun to try these new things!"
The most important thing to remember, in my opinion, is that our attitudes as adults will carry over to our children. If we have positive attitudes that focus on the important aspects of the season, we will be rewarded with children who will also begin to develop positive attitudes and respect for what we see as being important.
Check back here regularly for our plans for the season! And feel free to leave your own ideas in comments as to how you're making this Christmas a special one!
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Supermoms and Priorities
Today is October 30th and I feel like "Mom of the Year". That's actually a facetious joke between me and one of my friends. Whenever one of us would screw up something, we'd claim to be "Mother of the Year". Of course we frequently stole the title from one another. You could be mother of the year if you, say, forgot your kid's field trip money, or didn't sign the permission slip, or lost it and yelled something less than pleasant (or nonsensical) at your child. I have found that I win the Mother of the Year contest quite regularly, actually. And today is one of those days.
It's the day before Halloween and I've done nothing (read: NOTHING) to prepare. No carved pumpkins, no special Halloween spiced muffins or themed treats. No decorations. Haven't even checked my daughter's costume for final touches. Worst of all, I don't know that I'm motivated to do it.
When my kids were younger and I was incredibly ambitious, I was determined to make every Halloween costume from scratch, and do it for under ten bucks apiece. Yes, I did it and yes, it was stressful! I finally gave in with my son, because he refused my creative solutions. I simply gave him a budget and we got what he wanted. On one occasion, I found the cutest witch costume at a consignment sale for my daughter—still in its original packaging—for three bucks. It included the fancy hat, and boat feathers around the rim and on the dress. With my daughter, though, we went super creative most years. My favorite costume we made was a princess dress, created from a wedding dress we bought at Goodwill for four dollars. The dress was a tiny size and a light, cottony type fabric. We dyed it purple, made a cone hat and attached silvery sparkle fabric to hang down from the top. The whole costume came in for under ten dollars, and I have to say she was the cutest princess I'd ever seen.
Recently I've been chatting with several of my friends about the burnout and exhaustion of motherhood. I think every mother experiences it to some degree, based on the connection she has with her children. Some parents are extremely connected while others aren't. For those of us who are, the holidays mean additional work on top of everything we already do—getting kids ready for and off to school, helping with homework, cooking and cleaning, possibly working outside the home—and then adding costumes and candy and fancy meals and decorations and presents and parties to it all. Is it any wonder so many moms feel exhausted and overwhelmed this time of year?
The part about the princess costume I don't usually tell people is the frustration I experienced in trying to get it the right length. I've never learned to sew but had to find a way to get this dress up high enough. The skirt was very full, and to make matters worse, I can't sew other than a simple backstitch. I tried everything from stitch witch to safety pins to duct tape. It would work for a short time and then would fall back down. So my goodness, that child looked cute for the first hour. Then I had to help her hold her dress up the rest of the time!
This year, my life has been nutty. One day during the summer I stopped in a store called Tuesday Morning that carries closeouts. There, hanging on the rack, was a beautiful costume of a "woodland fairy". Whole costume, wings and dress included. And the price? A rocking ten bucks! My budget met, I purchased the costume and announced to my daughter she would be the most beautiful woodland fairy ever. And she liked it.
And you know what? I'm okay with it. I'm okay that I didn't put my own touches on it, because I have other things that are a higher priority right now. My daughter hasn't complained at all, and tomorrow night when she dons her costume, I really do believe she'll be a beautiful woodland fairy. And me? I'm just hoping the kid will share her candy.
One year
It's the day before Halloween and I've done nothing (read: NOTHING) to prepare. No carved pumpkins, no special Halloween spiced muffins or themed treats. No decorations. Haven't even checked my daughter's costume for final touches. Worst of all, I don't know that I'm motivated to do it.
When my kids were younger and I was incredibly ambitious, I was determined to make every Halloween costume from scratch, and do it for under ten bucks apiece. Yes, I did it and yes, it was stressful! I finally gave in with my son, because he refused my creative solutions. I simply gave him a budget and we got what he wanted. On one occasion, I found the cutest witch costume at a consignment sale for my daughter—still in its original packaging—for three bucks. It included the fancy hat, and boat feathers around the rim and on the dress. With my daughter, though, we went super creative most years. My favorite costume we made was a princess dress, created from a wedding dress we bought at Goodwill for four dollars. The dress was a tiny size and a light, cottony type fabric. We dyed it purple, made a cone hat and attached silvery sparkle fabric to hang down from the top. The whole costume came in for under ten dollars, and I have to say she was the cutest princess I'd ever seen.
Recently I've been chatting with several of my friends about the burnout and exhaustion of motherhood. I think every mother experiences it to some degree, based on the connection she has with her children. Some parents are extremely connected while others aren't. For those of us who are, the holidays mean additional work on top of everything we already do—getting kids ready for and off to school, helping with homework, cooking and cleaning, possibly working outside the home—and then adding costumes and candy and fancy meals and decorations and presents and parties to it all. Is it any wonder so many moms feel exhausted and overwhelmed this time of year?
The part about the princess costume I don't usually tell people is the frustration I experienced in trying to get it the right length. I've never learned to sew but had to find a way to get this dress up high enough. The skirt was very full, and to make matters worse, I can't sew other than a simple backstitch. I tried everything from stitch witch to safety pins to duct tape. It would work for a short time and then would fall back down. So my goodness, that child looked cute for the first hour. Then I had to help her hold her dress up the rest of the time!
This year, my life has been nutty. One day during the summer I stopped in a store called Tuesday Morning that carries closeouts. There, hanging on the rack, was a beautiful costume of a "woodland fairy". Whole costume, wings and dress included. And the price? A rocking ten bucks! My budget met, I purchased the costume and announced to my daughter she would be the most beautiful woodland fairy ever. And she liked it.
And you know what? I'm okay with it. I'm okay that I didn't put my own touches on it, because I have other things that are a higher priority right now. My daughter hasn't complained at all, and tomorrow night when she dons her costume, I really do believe she'll be a beautiful woodland fairy. And me? I'm just hoping the kid will share her candy.
One year
Friday, September 23, 2011
A Preschool Teacher's (and College Educator's) Take on No Child Left Behind
Anyone who knows me knows how horrid I think standardized testing is. In retrospect, I think my opinions on this kind of testing have become extreme as the type of testing has become more commonplace and more extreme. Standardized testing requires all children to pass a test that is geared toward the majority population. That means, first and foremost, children who are not of the majority are already at a disadvantage. We're not talking Eubonics here, people; we're talking basic cultural variances. For instance, when I lived in Oklahoma, if you wanted a soda you asked for a pop a lot of the time. If my children were to take a standardized test and it had a picture of a soda can and asked them to circle the word describing the can, they could waste valuable time looking for the word "pop" instead of "soda". What's the big deal? Well, those few seconds add up, and make your New Yorker look smarter than my Oklahoman, even if that's not the case.
Today was an amazing day in my eyes, because three years into his presidency, President Obama has finally uttered the words every teacher in this country has longed to hear: educational reform. NCLB had good intentions; the goals of having every child ready for school by six was lofty but laudable. Where NCLB fell on its proverbial ass, in my opinion, is in these three points: 1. Recognizing that all children are NOT the same and some were left behind at birth; 2. providing appropriate wraparound services (medical, therapeutic, psychoeducational, family support) to ensure all children are fed and healthy and READY to enter a classroom; and 3. finding a scapegoat in this nation's teachers.
I have been a surrogate mom on a few occasions for students, and many years ago, for two children I cared for while their mother worked and dealt with a lot of problems she had. Nothing is as difficult as trying to be somebody's parent when you aren't. They know it and you know it, and what's worse, is they know that their own parent didn't care enough (or couldn't, for whatever reason) be there, and now they're stuck with you. Usually, I try to keep things focused on fun and we do that. But every once in awhile it's torturous. But that's part of my job now. Supporting my students in every way is part of my job.
Feeding them is as well. I have had children come to school unclean and unfed. I kept food in my desk for them. Pride often kept them from asking in front of classmates, but they knew they could pull me aside. Additionally, I often diagnose a child who is too sick to come to school. Fevers, rashes, excessive mucous, swollen eyes, vomiting, or diarrhea are unacceptable symptoms to bring a child to school with. And I always am looking for ways to educate parents. So many parents are looking for a little bit of help with their kids but don't know where to turn. The internet and the bookstore are almost frighteningly overwhelming. So they turn to me, their child's teacher.
All of the failures of NCLB have fallen on teachers' shoulders, except when they haven't, and they've fallen through the cracks. Those are the children who are really left behind. The children that nobody even notices, except for test scores. The goal then, is to get the child up to a passing score if possible.
Most schools provide extra food the week of testing. Why? Because we all do better if we've eaten. There are parent volunteers. Why? Because it's helpful to have more hands to proctor tests and collect answer sheets. I have known principals who have gone house to house to pick up sick or tardy or absent children to take standardized tests. Why? So their test numbers are high enough.
Can you imagine if we practiced these things without a test being our motivator?
Perhaps if we can learn anything from NCLB, it's that it's commendable to have strong, lofty goals for our children—and our nation. But those goals must be ones that we as a nation buy into, believe, and support wholeheartedly. Money for education must start with the education of parents prior to a baby's birth. Child development is NOT the same as academic rigor, and should be part of what parents learn about their babies. Expectations should be clear, and needs should be met. A child who is hungry simply cannot perform well on a test. Neither can one who needs medical care, or even one who needs the care of a parent.
NCLB has possibilities, should we be able to turn it on its ear, re-evaluate it, and redistribute some allotments. In addition, it makes sense for the nation's strongest educators of young children to be in charge of a project such as this, rather than political committees that vary state to state, producing tests of varying quality and leverage. A national skill set should be established for each grade, and children should be held accountable to meeting those skills, with the guidance of their teachers.
It's my deepest hope that President Obama's words today were just the start of a dialogue, rather than a passing fancy. I believe in our nation, and I believe in our nation's children. And with the guidance of loving adults, these children can shine.
Today was an amazing day in my eyes, because three years into his presidency, President Obama has finally uttered the words every teacher in this country has longed to hear: educational reform. NCLB had good intentions; the goals of having every child ready for school by six was lofty but laudable. Where NCLB fell on its proverbial ass, in my opinion, is in these three points: 1. Recognizing that all children are NOT the same and some were left behind at birth; 2. providing appropriate wraparound services (medical, therapeutic, psychoeducational, family support) to ensure all children are fed and healthy and READY to enter a classroom; and 3. finding a scapegoat in this nation's teachers.
I have been a surrogate mom on a few occasions for students, and many years ago, for two children I cared for while their mother worked and dealt with a lot of problems she had. Nothing is as difficult as trying to be somebody's parent when you aren't. They know it and you know it, and what's worse, is they know that their own parent didn't care enough (or couldn't, for whatever reason) be there, and now they're stuck with you. Usually, I try to keep things focused on fun and we do that. But every once in awhile it's torturous. But that's part of my job now. Supporting my students in every way is part of my job.
Feeding them is as well. I have had children come to school unclean and unfed. I kept food in my desk for them. Pride often kept them from asking in front of classmates, but they knew they could pull me aside. Additionally, I often diagnose a child who is too sick to come to school. Fevers, rashes, excessive mucous, swollen eyes, vomiting, or diarrhea are unacceptable symptoms to bring a child to school with. And I always am looking for ways to educate parents. So many parents are looking for a little bit of help with their kids but don't know where to turn. The internet and the bookstore are almost frighteningly overwhelming. So they turn to me, their child's teacher.
All of the failures of NCLB have fallen on teachers' shoulders, except when they haven't, and they've fallen through the cracks. Those are the children who are really left behind. The children that nobody even notices, except for test scores. The goal then, is to get the child up to a passing score if possible.
Most schools provide extra food the week of testing. Why? Because we all do better if we've eaten. There are parent volunteers. Why? Because it's helpful to have more hands to proctor tests and collect answer sheets. I have known principals who have gone house to house to pick up sick or tardy or absent children to take standardized tests. Why? So their test numbers are high enough.
Can you imagine if we practiced these things without a test being our motivator?
Perhaps if we can learn anything from NCLB, it's that it's commendable to have strong, lofty goals for our children—and our nation. But those goals must be ones that we as a nation buy into, believe, and support wholeheartedly. Money for education must start with the education of parents prior to a baby's birth. Child development is NOT the same as academic rigor, and should be part of what parents learn about their babies. Expectations should be clear, and needs should be met. A child who is hungry simply cannot perform well on a test. Neither can one who needs medical care, or even one who needs the care of a parent.
NCLB has possibilities, should we be able to turn it on its ear, re-evaluate it, and redistribute some allotments. In addition, it makes sense for the nation's strongest educators of young children to be in charge of a project such as this, rather than political committees that vary state to state, producing tests of varying quality and leverage. A national skill set should be established for each grade, and children should be held accountable to meeting those skills, with the guidance of their teachers.
It's my deepest hope that President Obama's words today were just the start of a dialogue, rather than a passing fancy. I believe in our nation, and I believe in our nation's children. And with the guidance of loving adults, these children can shine.
Monday, September 12, 2011
Honoring the Fallen
To my son-
This weekend was the anniversary of one of the darkest days in our nation's history: September 11, 2001. Because yesterday marked the tenth anniversary of that day, the entire weekend has been filled with news reports, movies, stories, and the like about September 11th and what it was like that day.
On Friday, you and I had a disagreement. You were talking with the family excitedly about watching these shows. You and your sister were looking forward to seeing such a powerful day in our nation's history, as you were a young four-year old when it happened. I immediately snapped at you and told you I didn't want to discuss it. I told you several times that I didn't want to see or hear anything about it, and had trouble hiding my tears from you.
"But Mom," you said earnestly, "we're supposed to honor them."
I remember snapping back something along the lines of honor not always having to do with television shows. It was a poor excuse to get you off my back in the moment. But now, I realize, you need to understand. I owe it to you to understand, and not just what you see on television or hear from your friends or the radio. You deserve to hear what that day was like, and the days after.
It was a beautiful, breezy day and I had dropped you and your sister off at childcare. I was ready to teach my course, and had started when a few of my students wandered in late, and said a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center. We all thought it was pilot error, and continued with class. A few minutes later, another student arrived and said there were two that had crashed into the towers, and now they thought it was a hijacking. We finished class and I went to the preschool as I always did. The three of us—teachers and university facilitator—decided to close the center for the rest of the day, because nobody was sure what was going on. All planes in North America had been grounded, but there were still two planes that hadn't been accounted for. All of the adults at the preschool split the phone numbers to call. I remember one of the parents, who was a professor on campus, saying, "Now you're not going to let a few little Iraqis scare you, are you?" Honey, you will remember that most of your childhood our country spent in a war with Iraq. This day—this terrible day—was used as a way for people to agree to attack a country that had nothing to do with the attack on us.
After we cancelled our classes, I went to pick up you and your sister. I took you straight home, locked the door behind me, and kept you out of any rooms with the news. You and your sister were sheltered from anything that might frighten you. I refused to allow you to be exposed to the events going on around you. We put on happy faces with you and made protecting you our top priority.
At school, I had one little girl who cried every day for two weeks. Little boys built tall towers and crashed them with planes over and over again. The same pictures played on the news, and child psychologists speculated that young children, like your sister and you, would believe the same thing was happening over and over again if you saw the coverage. I will never forget how the news, for weeks, talked about how to protect yourself from bioagents in the air, such as nerve gas. People were supposed to duct tape their doors and windows shut, and wear masks. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. When I had been eleven or so and learned of tensions between countries, I often worried about nuclear war. It would keep me up some nights, terrified that somebody somewhere would blow us all up. But I never imagined the pain and horror of terrorism. It used to be that wars were fought out in the open; we knew our enemies and the war started when it was declared on a battlefield. War is no longer civilized. Terrorism is not only a physically overpowering fight but a psychologically overpowering one.
You told me the other day I need to honor those who fell on 9/11. My answer to you is this: I honor them in every footstep I take. I honor them when I support our freedoms and when I fight against the fear that terrorism has left in our country. I honor them when I stay politically active and vote on issues that are important. I honor them when I guide children through moral and ethical land mines. And I honored them when I kept you and your sister away from the horror of those days.
You are old enough now to make some of those judgment calls yourself. It is important for you to know what happened that day. It's important that you know that Osama Bin Laden, NOT Saddam Hussein, was responsible for 9/11. It's important for you to know that political parties jumped on the fear that Americans felt to take away our liberties and to start a war that should have never happened. But it's also important for you to know that in the days, weeks, months afterward Americans bonded together as never before. Your sister wrote an essay yesterday in which she stated that we learned what a great country we were. And that, my son, is the most important lesson we learned from 9/11: that no matter what was taken from us, we could not be destroyed. We WERE and ARE a great nation, and always will be.
And so I honor our country, and thus, I honor her fallen.
Much love always,
Mom
This weekend was the anniversary of one of the darkest days in our nation's history: September 11, 2001. Because yesterday marked the tenth anniversary of that day, the entire weekend has been filled with news reports, movies, stories, and the like about September 11th and what it was like that day.
On Friday, you and I had a disagreement. You were talking with the family excitedly about watching these shows. You and your sister were looking forward to seeing such a powerful day in our nation's history, as you were a young four-year old when it happened. I immediately snapped at you and told you I didn't want to discuss it. I told you several times that I didn't want to see or hear anything about it, and had trouble hiding my tears from you.
"But Mom," you said earnestly, "we're supposed to honor them."
I remember snapping back something along the lines of honor not always having to do with television shows. It was a poor excuse to get you off my back in the moment. But now, I realize, you need to understand. I owe it to you to understand, and not just what you see on television or hear from your friends or the radio. You deserve to hear what that day was like, and the days after.
It was a beautiful, breezy day and I had dropped you and your sister off at childcare. I was ready to teach my course, and had started when a few of my students wandered in late, and said a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center. We all thought it was pilot error, and continued with class. A few minutes later, another student arrived and said there were two that had crashed into the towers, and now they thought it was a hijacking. We finished class and I went to the preschool as I always did. The three of us—teachers and university facilitator—decided to close the center for the rest of the day, because nobody was sure what was going on. All planes in North America had been grounded, but there were still two planes that hadn't been accounted for. All of the adults at the preschool split the phone numbers to call. I remember one of the parents, who was a professor on campus, saying, "Now you're not going to let a few little Iraqis scare you, are you?" Honey, you will remember that most of your childhood our country spent in a war with Iraq. This day—this terrible day—was used as a way for people to agree to attack a country that had nothing to do with the attack on us.
After we cancelled our classes, I went to pick up you and your sister. I took you straight home, locked the door behind me, and kept you out of any rooms with the news. You and your sister were sheltered from anything that might frighten you. I refused to allow you to be exposed to the events going on around you. We put on happy faces with you and made protecting you our top priority.
At school, I had one little girl who cried every day for two weeks. Little boys built tall towers and crashed them with planes over and over again. The same pictures played on the news, and child psychologists speculated that young children, like your sister and you, would believe the same thing was happening over and over again if you saw the coverage. I will never forget how the news, for weeks, talked about how to protect yourself from bioagents in the air, such as nerve gas. People were supposed to duct tape their doors and windows shut, and wear masks. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. When I had been eleven or so and learned of tensions between countries, I often worried about nuclear war. It would keep me up some nights, terrified that somebody somewhere would blow us all up. But I never imagined the pain and horror of terrorism. It used to be that wars were fought out in the open; we knew our enemies and the war started when it was declared on a battlefield. War is no longer civilized. Terrorism is not only a physically overpowering fight but a psychologically overpowering one.
You told me the other day I need to honor those who fell on 9/11. My answer to you is this: I honor them in every footstep I take. I honor them when I support our freedoms and when I fight against the fear that terrorism has left in our country. I honor them when I stay politically active and vote on issues that are important. I honor them when I guide children through moral and ethical land mines. And I honored them when I kept you and your sister away from the horror of those days.
You are old enough now to make some of those judgment calls yourself. It is important for you to know what happened that day. It's important that you know that Osama Bin Laden, NOT Saddam Hussein, was responsible for 9/11. It's important for you to know that political parties jumped on the fear that Americans felt to take away our liberties and to start a war that should have never happened. But it's also important for you to know that in the days, weeks, months afterward Americans bonded together as never before. Your sister wrote an essay yesterday in which she stated that we learned what a great country we were. And that, my son, is the most important lesson we learned from 9/11: that no matter what was taken from us, we could not be destroyed. We WERE and ARE a great nation, and always will be.
And so I honor our country, and thus, I honor her fallen.
Much love always,
Mom
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