From Fine to Free
My mature and composed class turned into a fidgety, giggly, rambunctious bunch of goobers. It is hard to write about yourself, and your experiences... to air your dirty laundry.
But, this time it is what I am going to do.
Growing up in Oregon means that I went to public school. Public schools are the norm for kids here, although I understand that it is different in many parts of the country.
School was fine. I can still name the teachers that made me cry, or feel stupid, or the one whose shirt popped a button in class. She told me I was dumb. I can still name the ones whose breath smelled bad. I fondly remember the one who taught me how to write an essay, and the beautiful woman who pulled me kicking and screaming though Algebra 2. School was fine. Same goes for my husband. School was...fine. We learned. Some. Learning was done to us. We were the recipients. Fine.
So it makes sense that both my children started in public school.
Kindergarten started just fine. It was fine until they told me my daughter wasn't reading at the required speed. I freaked. I hired a tutor.
The next few years were uneventful for my girl. Things were fine. My daughter is well behaved and focused, so she sat quietly and never rocked the boat. There was no attempt to challenge her, to question her, or to pull her out of her shell that was beginning to calcify. Behavior in my daughter's classroom began to change, the way behavior does as kids get closer to puberty. The teachers did the best they could with a class of thirty squiggly preteens, but my wonderful and bright girl was uncomfortable with disrespect the kids were showing each other and the adults. Uncomfortable grew to stressed, and we pulled her.
My son followed in his big sister's footsteps, five years later.
Kindergarten was fine, mostly. Reading was difficult for my son, but this time there was more. The children made boats to float in the small plastic pool in the back of the class. My five-year-old was able to draw his boat to scale. He built his boat, and was the only one to attach a working motor. I was told about the boat to soften the blow that my son wasn't learning at the right pace. He was five. In first grade, his teacher unwittingly created a hierarchy among the students, and my boy was at the bottom. He was teased and beaten up on the playground. We pulled him.
So where did we end up?
A wonderful democratic free school.
We are at a school where learning is done by us. We are the agents. We are free.
My daughter is studying history, her passion. She is currently writing a research paper on ancient Rome. She is on the second draft right now. (I can't get my students at school to do more than one draft.) She volunteers six hours a week at our neighborhood library, and is part of the library's Teen Council. She just took the SAT subject test in history, and did very well. She is fourteen.
My son is creating. He researches on the computer, draws plans, and builds small structures. My house is full of projects. He is currently working on a target for target practice with his airsoft pistol. His advisers are helping him with some of the details. He has a solid grasp on basic physics. He makes proposals in the All School Meetings, and participates in the democratic process on a regular basis. He will be ten in the spring.
We are working on reading and math at home. My kids are building a solid foundation of fundamentals. I spend fifteen hours a month as a volunteer at the school, and serve on committees. I am challenged, questioned, and respected every time I enter the building. I am inching closer to forty every day.
A year ago my son was playing a video game with one of his cousins. Reading is still difficult for him, and it was even more so a year ago. He asked his cousin to read one of the instructions for him. She responded by asking what grade he was in, and then said "So what are you learning in school?"
He responded with, "I am learning responsibility."
He is. We all are.
Posted in DemEd in Real LifeParentingStudents on Feb 03, 2010 - 11:52 PM
I had my juniors fill out a worksheet this last Monday. The worksheet directed them to list the qualities that make them unique, interesting, and worthy of acceptance into the four year-colleges in our nation. The goal of this page was to create a list of attributes they could draw from when it is time to write their college and scholarship applications.My mature and composed class turned into a fidgety, giggly, rambunctious bunch of goobers. It is hard to write about yourself, and your experiences... to air your dirty laundry.
But, this time it is what I am going to do.
Growing up in Oregon means that I went to public school. Public schools are the norm for kids here, although I understand that it is different in many parts of the country.
School was fine. I can still name the teachers that made me cry, or feel stupid, or the one whose shirt popped a button in class. She told me I was dumb. I can still name the ones whose breath smelled bad. I fondly remember the one who taught me how to write an essay, and the beautiful woman who pulled me kicking and screaming though Algebra 2. School was fine. Same goes for my husband. School was...fine. We learned. Some. Learning was done to us. We were the recipients. Fine.
So it makes sense that both my children started in public school.
Kindergarten started just fine. It was fine until they told me my daughter wasn't reading at the required speed. I freaked. I hired a tutor.
The next few years were uneventful for my girl. Things were fine. My daughter is well behaved and focused, so she sat quietly and never rocked the boat. There was no attempt to challenge her, to question her, or to pull her out of her shell that was beginning to calcify. Behavior in my daughter's classroom began to change, the way behavior does as kids get closer to puberty. The teachers did the best they could with a class of thirty squiggly preteens, but my wonderful and bright girl was uncomfortable with disrespect the kids were showing each other and the adults. Uncomfortable grew to stressed, and we pulled her.
My son followed in his big sister's footsteps, five years later.
Kindergarten was fine, mostly. Reading was difficult for my son, but this time there was more. The children made boats to float in the small plastic pool in the back of the class. My five-year-old was able to draw his boat to scale. He built his boat, and was the only one to attach a working motor. I was told about the boat to soften the blow that my son wasn't learning at the right pace. He was five. In first grade, his teacher unwittingly created a hierarchy among the students, and my boy was at the bottom. He was teased and beaten up on the playground. We pulled him.
So where did we end up?
A wonderful democratic free school.
We are at a school where learning is done by us. We are the agents. We are free.
My daughter is studying history, her passion. She is currently writing a research paper on ancient Rome. She is on the second draft right now. (I can't get my students at school to do more than one draft.) She volunteers six hours a week at our neighborhood library, and is part of the library's Teen Council. She just took the SAT subject test in history, and did very well. She is fourteen.
My son is creating. He researches on the computer, draws plans, and builds small structures. My house is full of projects. He is currently working on a target for target practice with his airsoft pistol. His advisers are helping him with some of the details. He has a solid grasp on basic physics. He makes proposals in the All School Meetings, and participates in the democratic process on a regular basis. He will be ten in the spring.
We are working on reading and math at home. My kids are building a solid foundation of fundamentals. I spend fifteen hours a month as a volunteer at the school, and serve on committees. I am challenged, questioned, and respected every time I enter the building. I am inching closer to forty every day.
A year ago my son was playing a video game with one of his cousins. Reading is still difficult for him, and it was even more so a year ago. He asked his cousin to read one of the instructions for him. She responded by asking what grade he was in, and then said "So what are you learning in school?"
He responded with, "I am learning responsibility."
He is. We all are.
Tags for this entry:
history,
freedom,
bullying,
responsibility,
math,
democratic schooling,
challenge,
reading,
kindergarten,
science
comments
Wow, it’s so neat to trace your path from traditionally schooled to democratically schooled. Kudos to you for realizing that your kids would be happier and more fulfilled if they had the chance to explore and truly be themselves. I’m so happy that your family found freedom!
on Feb 05, 2010 - 09:52 AM