Today, I learned that sitting in a parent-teacher conference and having education ideals does not exclude me from wanting to ensure that the teacher is pleased with me.
While I did nothing to cloud my perspectives, I did spin language into a careful web so as to paint myself a concerned, dedicated, proactive parent. I prostituted my vision that working to normal development is undefinable, and instead emphasized all of the ways we compensate for what she thought were things to mention.
Today, I listened as the teacher explained all of the things that they would hope a preschooler would be doing before Kindergarten starts, and how Zoë did them all – as long as they related to sociability, playing, reading and other intangibles that can change in the blink of a hunger pang.
I agreed and semi-smugly said something about not being very concerned about her socialness or ability to share ideas and toys, or even to ask for help. I explained that I have to reign her in a lot, and tell her that older kids might not want to play with her and that people have personal bubbles, and that she has always had a love of books and seemingly creative play.
Today, I learned that my daughter has had issues with transitioning between one activity and the next, but that within a few minutes and with the follow-through of the teachers, she’d learned that she needed to follow the rules.
I apologized. For myself. Because I still have that issue, and if you demand that my focus is withdrawn from something to another that you deem worthy – that might have never been on my radar – then I throw my own kind of tantrum. I said that at home, we have a very democratic family, and that she gets a lot of lead because of that, and because her and I are so similar. I know this about her, from my own inside out, how hard and disturbing and sharp it feels to be yanked out of something of accomplishment into new, sterile conditions – like going from the hot tub to the Olympic-sized pool.
Today, I learned that she talks a lot and sings a lot, and that she needs to be reminded not to sometimes. Because it’s not fair to the other children and would also encourage them to act out of turn by singing and talking a lot.
Another thing I apologized for, describing my own inability to have a conversation without interrupting other parties continually. Another thing I said we’re working on, under the concept of respect – for others’ turns to speak or have silence, and to be able to work or have a conversation on the phone without interruption. I didn’t say that it was bogus, in my mind, to disallow children to be children. That would have been rude.
Today, I learned that her teacher doesn’t think academics are that important, but she still measures their ability to put together various skill-levels of puzzles, their drawing progress and their number recognition. Zoë passed, averaged and underachieved.
I interrupted, explaining the numbers she didn’t know, in what order. Explaining the drawing and my emphasis on making art because she wants to, instead of to accomplish drawing something. Explaining how she never used to care about puzzles at all, but that it’d started eight months ago: when I take a nap or sleep in, I invariably wake up to find another 50-or-so-piece puzzle put together on the floor.
Today, I learned that the teacher had learned really well how to sandwich critique – “good // needs work // good” were part of everything she reported, as if a quota was being met and I was to be held with gloves made of the softest material found on Earth.
Today, I learned that Zoë hasn’t gotten much out of preschool except for friends and time to play with them away from me. She hasn’t learned much that she didn’t walk into the classroom with – vehicles, seasons, jobs, animals are things we’ve been talking about for eons already; they don’t focus on the ABCs, so that’s come from her own interest, me, books, DVDs and the Word Whammer; she hasn’t overcome any sort of social boundaries because she wasn’t shy and has engaged in participatory play for nearly two years; she hasn’t gotten more creative in her play, because she’s still playing the same games as she was in the summer, just with different co-conspirators.
Today, I learned that I could sit there and hear how my daughter wasn’t measuring up, and how she was excelling, and describe reasoning against traditional schooling that almost exactly described what the teacher’s philosophy was – but that I couldn’t say to the teacher that I thought what she was telling me was bogus.
Today, I neared the end of the conference and asked the teacher’s opinion of how to transition Zoë into homeschooling, or if she had a perspective of the schools I’m interested in for her. The response I got was that my daughter was thriving in a very structured environment and the teacher didn’t recommend putting her in an unstructured one, for risk of her falling off a cliff, so to speak.
And I said nothing.
Today, I learned that I was less of an advocate for my daughter than I thought I was, that her preschool is less free-time based than I was led to believe and that I could sit there and be polite, simply to try to make a teacher like me.
Today, I learned that I am still stuck in the brain of my seven-year-old self, wanting someone with authority to say that I was good enough.
