We had a meeting today where we discussed whether using Zoom with students sufficiently protects student's information and if we'd get in trouble for using it. This is a valid question since I'm not entirely conversant with every aspect of FERPA laws that protect identifying students information from being shared with anyone outside of school.
This law, by the way, is a good idea and I'm happy to have it but, seriously? You want to stop having online meetings with students because then those students might be seen by someone not usually in the school or because....Why? All the people who might see the students are ones who could come into the school and see students at lunchtime, or as a "room mom" (Yes, those still exist and they're still moms, 90% of the time.) We have to be extremely careful about not posting work that could identify the child -- including via their handwriting* -- and these are mostly reasonable rules to have. (It is permissible, however, to have students grade each other's papers and shout out their grades for the whole class to hear, because humiliating a child is perfectly fine so long as the paper hasn't been collected yet.**)
That's not really what this post is about, though.
It's about our strange and rather bizarre desire to "protect" children by keeping them from ever talking to each other electronically.
It's absolutely forbidden for students to use Zoom to contact each other. And talk. Privately. Because they might get hurt! OMG! Someone could be preying on them! Yes, I suppose it's true that an adult could try to surreptitiously Zoom with them on an illicit school account. Trafficking and grooming and all that are a real thing. But preventing kids from ever having electronic access to their friends is not going to protect them from it.***
But my kid, in a video chat with her best friends she hasn't seen in a month aren't in danger. And that's what we're talking, with all seriousness, about trying to eliminate. Keeping kids from having conversations without an adult around.
Really?
You think, in reality, kids never have an unsupervised moment? There's no lunch time, no recess, no chat about anything but school during the school day? Or what about at home? Some kids do actually go outside and play with the neighborhood kids without adult supervision. Kids NEED to talk. They NEED to play games and argue about the rules, and they just freaking need time to be kids away from adults.
Right now we're in a place that nobody living knows. We're physically isolated and most of us adults are finding a lot of solace in the video connections we are making with others. We shouldn't be trying to keep it from our kids, too, in the name of keeping them safe. Few people have a landline phone anymore that enables kids to just pick up the phone and call a friend. We decry giving a kid a cell phone till 8th grade or later (and with some good reason, there) but it leaves them without easy ways to make connections in a time like this.
They need to see each other. They need to talk.
Let them.
*I defy most parents to ID'd their own 6 year old's handwriting, let alone anyone else's 6 year old's.
**I'm not kidding. This is allowed via a SCOTUS decision. Lazy, humiliating, ostracizing teaching practices are perfectly fine. I never want to be a principal, but if I were, this practice would be utterly banned in my school.
***Things like conversations, teaching kids openly about sex, sexual predators, relationships, and having a healthy involvement in their digital consumption is way more useful.
disapproving kitty
Tuesday, April 14, 2020
Sunday, March 29, 2020
Visiting Backyardia (One Star. Would not recommend.)
I spent some time in the yard today contemplating the horror that is our lawn and the backyard fence that is crooked as a dog's hind leg. This is what passes for a trip out these days. The front lawn. The back lawn. Fence inspection. These are things I need to do, granted, but when they're the high point of the day, well...
And I started thinking about the trip we aren't going to take this summer to celebrate our 15th anniversary. It was going to be a grand, multi-generational thing with my folks and other relatives and I was really looking forward to it, and now I'm almost positive it isn't going to happen, so hey, why not spend the money on a new fence or hiring someone to fix the lawn?
...
We could spend it on a cement trough, too, I suppose. Because that's the practical thing to do. Because there's not a need, really, to go visit a country where they don't talk in English and they don't even want to!* It's much more responsible to save the money, anyway.
I hate this.
I am just guessing here, too, but most, if not all the kids' summer camps will not be running. For the first year, ever, I got them signed up early for different camps and they were both so excited to go. But Dr. Fauci's "weeks," while better than "months" don't inspire confidence that it will be safe for my kids to go off to sleep away camp in June.
I do realize that this is a First World Problem of the grandest degree because there are folks out of work, and who don't know if, at the end of all this, they're going to be evicted because they got laid off and $1200 doesn't go all that far in most places. People don't know if there will even be jobs to go back to. Hospitals are overcrowding and there's not enough equipment. There's so much. So I know this is an irrelevant problem, but knowing that doesn't make me feel any better about it.
And then, of course, there's the real, underlying fear that in two months, I'll come back to read this and think "Oh my God, this is what you were worried about? This? This trivial, nothing thing?! What's wrong with you?" And I will be thinking that because the unimaginable has happened, and I am wanting to go back in time to shake myself for grieving such an unimportant loss as vacation or summer camp.
But that's where I am. Except right this moment DH is online for the first time playing a multiplayer dungeon crawl using Tabletop Simulator with his friends and it's actually working. And he's laughing. Little chuckles and big hearty guffaws that have been such a rare sound that I was startled by the first one. And I'm so grateful his friends insisted on trying this.
So maybe, in this moment, it's okay to grieve the tiny things in the same way we are grateful for the little things and not feel unworthy for any of it.
Be kind to yourself, friends.
*it's a reference to "Our Town." My mother will get it.
And I started thinking about the trip we aren't going to take this summer to celebrate our 15th anniversary. It was going to be a grand, multi-generational thing with my folks and other relatives and I was really looking forward to it, and now I'm almost positive it isn't going to happen, so hey, why not spend the money on a new fence or hiring someone to fix the lawn?
...
We could spend it on a cement trough, too, I suppose. Because that's the practical thing to do. Because there's not a need, really, to go visit a country where they don't talk in English and they don't even want to!* It's much more responsible to save the money, anyway.
I hate this.
I am just guessing here, too, but most, if not all the kids' summer camps will not be running. For the first year, ever, I got them signed up early for different camps and they were both so excited to go. But Dr. Fauci's "weeks," while better than "months" don't inspire confidence that it will be safe for my kids to go off to sleep away camp in June.
I do realize that this is a First World Problem of the grandest degree because there are folks out of work, and who don't know if, at the end of all this, they're going to be evicted because they got laid off and $1200 doesn't go all that far in most places. People don't know if there will even be jobs to go back to. Hospitals are overcrowding and there's not enough equipment. There's so much. So I know this is an irrelevant problem, but knowing that doesn't make me feel any better about it.
And then, of course, there's the real, underlying fear that in two months, I'll come back to read this and think "Oh my God, this is what you were worried about? This? This trivial, nothing thing?! What's wrong with you?" And I will be thinking that because the unimaginable has happened, and I am wanting to go back in time to shake myself for grieving such an unimportant loss as vacation or summer camp.
But that's where I am. Except right this moment DH is online for the first time playing a multiplayer dungeon crawl using Tabletop Simulator with his friends and it's actually working. And he's laughing. Little chuckles and big hearty guffaws that have been such a rare sound that I was startled by the first one. And I'm so grateful his friends insisted on trying this.
So maybe, in this moment, it's okay to grieve the tiny things in the same way we are grateful for the little things and not feel unworthy for any of it.
Be kind to yourself, friends.
*it's a reference to "Our Town." My mother will get it.
Is it Blursday Yet?
Reporting to you from day...something...of the quarantine. It hasn't been that long, really, but I can lose track of the days in a 3 day weekend, so knowing exactly how many days this forever has lasted so far is beyond me.
In some ways, things aren't that much different. I stay inside and putter around instead of going out and doing yard work or going for a walk until the rain hits and then "hey! It's not my fault I can't go out and rake the dead grass out of the lawn, it's raining!" This is a pretty typical non-quarantine thing for me to do. On the other hand, I haven't talked to anyone in person who isn't a family member in...days? Weeks? I think I did have a yell-chat with our neighbor the other day while I was in the car and he was a safe 15 feet away and there's the occasional "hi!" to people we see when we're out walking, but that's really it. I'm not an introvert by nature, and the lack of other human contact is starting to wear. I never would have made it as a homesteader or a pioneer.*
It was "spring break" for me and the kids this week and one thing that is the same is the mounting anxiety that I haven't really prepped enough for the coming weeks and there's a lot to do, so I really should get in to school. Only not only have I not prepped enough, I'm not even really sure what I'm doing since a great part of my job is supporting teachers and none of us are really solid in this online-teaching yet. So there's anxiety on top of anxiety and so far I've managed to do a better-than-average job at avoiding it.** I did manage to make some lists today, which helped. Having this job which is a little tough to nail down to begin with does not help. In the physical world, I had a schedule, lots of time booked with gifted kids, independent projects, extension lessons, co-teaching lessons all filling my time. It took a long while for me to build *that* with my colleagues. Now I'm back to square less-than-one. I'm flooded with roughly eleventy billion fabulous online resources to use, but even that is anxiety provoking, to be honest. I do my best work when I'm bouncing ideas off of people.
I miss my teams of teachers. I miss my students. I miss the tiny day-to-day interactions with colleagues and friends. I miss hugs from the kids. Elementary kids hug you all the time. They're marvelous like that.
I know this won't last forever, and yes, I know this could be much, much worse, but knowing that has never helped anybody. (So do us all a favor and quit posting the memes about how much more awful it was for someone else, 'k?)
This wound up being kinda bleaker than I meant it to, but hey, that's just Blursday for you. Never could get the hang of that day.
Peace.
*Let's be honest here, my total lack of physical skills and general dislike of roughing it of any sort would have been much larger problems than a need for social contact.
**My own DD is stellar at avoidance, and, it seems, she comes by it honestly. I mean, I come by it honestly, too. In my own family, we even have names for specific kinds of procrastination activities.†
†Creative task-avoidance: when you get something productive accomplished instead of not doing another, more important task. Housecleaning, blogging, organizing the game cabinet, exercise and baking all fall into this category.
Crass task-avoidance: when you do nothing of any value whatsoever instead of doing what you need to do. Video games, internet surfing and Facebook are in this category.
Sunday, March 22, 2020
It's All in What You're Looking For
A few years ago a blogger/journalist decided to make a name for herself by attending a Mensa gathering (called an RG, for Regional Gathering) and blowing the lid off the whole sordid affair. She found the creepiest of the RG creepers and told the world that this was what Mensa gatherings were about. Creepy people who love showing off how smart they are.* Every time her clicks slope off, she goes back in for another shocking exposé.
Fine. Whatever. In a way, she's not entirely wrong. These people she seeks out are the broken stairs of Mensa, and articles like hers, plus the incessant and brave work of many, many others have gotten the leadership to boot some of the worst offenders out of the club, and put others on notice. It's easy, you see, to have a fair number of socially-inappropriate or even criminal jerks in your club when the only criterion is that you be good at standardized tests.
Mensa is the place where all those smart people who never fit in anywhere else can go. People who spent much of their childhood being bullied for being different, or being socially awkward or just introverted can join Mensa. You have a high enough score and money to pay the entry fee, and you're in. No other questions asked.
In many respects, this is a wonderful thing. I work with gifted kids, and there are so many of them who aren't just square pegs in a round world, they're 7-sided, asymmetrical prismatic stars that are never going to fit anywhere, but that doesn't mean they don't need a place to thrive. Mensa can give them a place to belong. Most Mensans I've met are welcoming, kind and fairly tolerant of the strange-but-harmless. Mensans give them a home, and even a family.
On the other hand, this means that there is a higher percentage of utter weirdos in Mensa than would normally be allowed in a not-specific-to-that-weirdness group. But that doesn't mean everybody is a bundle of social inappropriateness waiting to happen. It doesn't even mean a majority are. It just means more than average, and if you go looking for it, you're going to find it. And just like the bullies of our childhood, if you choose to, you'll find it very easy to mock and disparage.
Or, maybe, you could enter looking for kindness, or open-mindedness, humor, or inventiveness and you'll find people like L, who regularly gives of herself till she drops. Or folks like WA who is incredibly good at problem solving, and brings engineering skills to baking gluten free cookies so good people prefer them to regular ones. BW, whose organizational skills are second to none and who runs a hospitality suite like no one else. QML and V who, if they so desired, could probably take over the world but make you happy to be part of their kingdom when they did.** JW who runs tournaments with supreme efficiency and AB who can (and has) filled auditoriums with his talks on the historical relevance of Marvel Comics. Countless others who like playing boardgames, sharing their hobbies, quietly doing jigsaw puzzles together, devotedly recycling and being happily accepting of other's little quirks. There are so many good people, so many helpers, and you just have to look for them.
And, of course, I met my husband there in a game room. We met at an RG, and 16 months later we were married. We're going on 15 years now, and one of the things we look forward to the most during the year is going to MindGames, or other cities' RGs, or best of all, hosting our own. It's a ton of exhausting work and tremendous fun.
So, yes, there are a fair number of really annoying people in Mensa. Just because we have one attribute in common doesn't mean we will have a single other thing in common. And some of the members are downright icky if not criminal, and yes, we are doing better at ousting them. There's a ways to go on this front, but like all things, it's a work in progress. Some people are just awkward and we're trying our best to gently help them be less so, but such lessons are never easy and don't go down well even with the best of intentions, so it's slow going.
Want to know what an RG is like? It's a really big party. There's tons of food and drink, games, conversation, opportunities to help out, interesting talks, and activities with people who are smart, generally kind, quirky and fairly accepting of those who are pointy and asymmetrical and don't fit in anywhere else. That's what it's like. And like most other human endeavors, what you bring to it, and what you seek will largely determine what you find.
Look for the good. You'll be amazed at what you discover.
Peace.
*Most of the Mensans I know don't tell people they're in Mensa. They actively hide it. Bragging isn't a common trait.
**and you'd be really well fed. And for the record, I don't think they desire to take over the world, but they do throw one helluva party.
Fine. Whatever. In a way, she's not entirely wrong. These people she seeks out are the broken stairs of Mensa, and articles like hers, plus the incessant and brave work of many, many others have gotten the leadership to boot some of the worst offenders out of the club, and put others on notice. It's easy, you see, to have a fair number of socially-inappropriate or even criminal jerks in your club when the only criterion is that you be good at standardized tests.
Mensa is the place where all those smart people who never fit in anywhere else can go. People who spent much of their childhood being bullied for being different, or being socially awkward or just introverted can join Mensa. You have a high enough score and money to pay the entry fee, and you're in. No other questions asked.
In many respects, this is a wonderful thing. I work with gifted kids, and there are so many of them who aren't just square pegs in a round world, they're 7-sided, asymmetrical prismatic stars that are never going to fit anywhere, but that doesn't mean they don't need a place to thrive. Mensa can give them a place to belong. Most Mensans I've met are welcoming, kind and fairly tolerant of the strange-but-harmless. Mensans give them a home, and even a family.
On the other hand, this means that there is a higher percentage of utter weirdos in Mensa than would normally be allowed in a not-specific-to-that-weirdness group. But that doesn't mean everybody is a bundle of social inappropriateness waiting to happen. It doesn't even mean a majority are. It just means more than average, and if you go looking for it, you're going to find it. And just like the bullies of our childhood, if you choose to, you'll find it very easy to mock and disparage.
Or, maybe, you could enter looking for kindness, or open-mindedness, humor, or inventiveness and you'll find people like L, who regularly gives of herself till she drops. Or folks like WA who is incredibly good at problem solving, and brings engineering skills to baking gluten free cookies so good people prefer them to regular ones. BW, whose organizational skills are second to none and who runs a hospitality suite like no one else. QML and V who, if they so desired, could probably take over the world but make you happy to be part of their kingdom when they did.** JW who runs tournaments with supreme efficiency and AB who can (and has) filled auditoriums with his talks on the historical relevance of Marvel Comics. Countless others who like playing boardgames, sharing their hobbies, quietly doing jigsaw puzzles together, devotedly recycling and being happily accepting of other's little quirks. There are so many good people, so many helpers, and you just have to look for them.
And, of course, I met my husband there in a game room. We met at an RG, and 16 months later we were married. We're going on 15 years now, and one of the things we look forward to the most during the year is going to MindGames, or other cities' RGs, or best of all, hosting our own. It's a ton of exhausting work and tremendous fun.
So, yes, there are a fair number of really annoying people in Mensa. Just because we have one attribute in common doesn't mean we will have a single other thing in common. And some of the members are downright icky if not criminal, and yes, we are doing better at ousting them. There's a ways to go on this front, but like all things, it's a work in progress. Some people are just awkward and we're trying our best to gently help them be less so, but such lessons are never easy and don't go down well even with the best of intentions, so it's slow going.
Want to know what an RG is like? It's a really big party. There's tons of food and drink, games, conversation, opportunities to help out, interesting talks, and activities with people who are smart, generally kind, quirky and fairly accepting of those who are pointy and asymmetrical and don't fit in anywhere else. That's what it's like. And like most other human endeavors, what you bring to it, and what you seek will largely determine what you find.
Look for the good. You'll be amazed at what you discover.
Peace.
*Most of the Mensans I know don't tell people they're in Mensa. They actively hide it. Bragging isn't a common trait.
**and you'd be really well fed. And for the record, I don't think they desire to take over the world, but they do throw one helluva party.
Saturday, March 21, 2020
We Were Never Really Normal to Begin With
It's the first weekend of the Quarantine and well, things are not great. My friend's son spiked a very high fever that wouldn't come down but they had a hard time getting into the ER. (He's okay. It wasn't Corona.) My mother is sewing hospital masks for where my sister-in-law works because people who don't need the masks are hoarding them. There's a war on between keeping our economy afloat and keeping our hospitals from being overrun, and I'm not sure if there are any winners to be had in this situation. I'm anxious about all of it, and having stress dreams.
But also, things are not that bad, either. I mean, we cleaned out the fridge, and J continued his massive "re-inventory-ing of all the games*" project. My parents have downloaded videoconferencing apps and we'll all get to talk to them tomorrow, and our usually very blasé teenager-y kids are really excited about it. I'm still working on blogging more and getting in some exercise every day. Today's exercise was going out for a walk in the 40 degree weather. Yesterday it was 72 at noon, and we walked around Prairie Oaks at 6, when it had dropped into a chilly, windy 50s. Still, as we headed back to the car, the whole park was filled with the sound of peepers, who I guess had been fooled by the 72 degrees into thinking that spring had arrived. The kids had never heard anything like it, I think. DD described it as the "same sound that little wooden frog the music teacher has makes when you rub the stick over the bumps." So hey, score one for accuracy for the woodcrafters.
While we were walking around both days, it was clear that little bits of spring are poking up. Our neighbors had fully blooming daffodils! We have some struggling crocuses that keep trying and then getting sucker punched by 30 degree drops in temperature from day to day. There are sprouts at the base of our perennials, too, which reminded me that I need to find our clippers since I never cleared away last year's twiggy bits from them as part of fall cleanup. Nature just keeps going.
China's air quality is the best it's been in 30 years. Pollution levels will probably drop everywhere that factories are shutting down. It's not all beer and skittles, though, because there are monkey gangs in Thailand fighting over food since there are no tourists to drop any. We impact the earth in ways we don't even realize. I wonder what is going on with pigeon populations and other urban food webs that are suddenly without people. The urban-animal scientists must be going nuts over this.
We're all trying to find the new normal here, and it's slow going. I think about Little House in the Big Woods and how the Ingalls were practicing social isolation and didn't even know it. I've been planning to do a read-aloud for my students, and maybe I'll choose that, just because it *is* about spending pretty much all your waking time with just your family, but there's no wi-fi, indoor plumbing or central heating.†
J mentioned that some of his colleagues are still fairly fresh out of college, and living with roommates and not loved ones. And some folks are having to weather this truly alone. As much as we can aggravate each other, I'm glad to be surrounded by my family. I mean, four really is a good number for boardgaming.
So no, things are not so bad. We've got each other and the rest we can figure out as it goes.
Peace.
*If you've ever seen our game collection, you know this is no small task.
† See kids! Things *could* be worse!
But also, things are not that bad, either. I mean, we cleaned out the fridge, and J continued his massive "re-inventory-ing of all the games*" project. My parents have downloaded videoconferencing apps and we'll all get to talk to them tomorrow, and our usually very blasé teenager-y kids are really excited about it. I'm still working on blogging more and getting in some exercise every day. Today's exercise was going out for a walk in the 40 degree weather. Yesterday it was 72 at noon, and we walked around Prairie Oaks at 6, when it had dropped into a chilly, windy 50s. Still, as we headed back to the car, the whole park was filled with the sound of peepers, who I guess had been fooled by the 72 degrees into thinking that spring had arrived. The kids had never heard anything like it, I think. DD described it as the "same sound that little wooden frog the music teacher has makes when you rub the stick over the bumps." So hey, score one for accuracy for the woodcrafters.
While we were walking around both days, it was clear that little bits of spring are poking up. Our neighbors had fully blooming daffodils! We have some struggling crocuses that keep trying and then getting sucker punched by 30 degree drops in temperature from day to day. There are sprouts at the base of our perennials, too, which reminded me that I need to find our clippers since I never cleared away last year's twiggy bits from them as part of fall cleanup. Nature just keeps going.
China's air quality is the best it's been in 30 years. Pollution levels will probably drop everywhere that factories are shutting down. It's not all beer and skittles, though, because there are monkey gangs in Thailand fighting over food since there are no tourists to drop any. We impact the earth in ways we don't even realize. I wonder what is going on with pigeon populations and other urban food webs that are suddenly without people. The urban-animal scientists must be going nuts over this.
We're all trying to find the new normal here, and it's slow going. I think about Little House in the Big Woods and how the Ingalls were practicing social isolation and didn't even know it. I've been planning to do a read-aloud for my students, and maybe I'll choose that, just because it *is* about spending pretty much all your waking time with just your family, but there's no wi-fi, indoor plumbing or central heating.†
J mentioned that some of his colleagues are still fairly fresh out of college, and living with roommates and not loved ones. And some folks are having to weather this truly alone. As much as we can aggravate each other, I'm glad to be surrounded by my family. I mean, four really is a good number for boardgaming.
So no, things are not so bad. We've got each other and the rest we can figure out as it goes.
Peace.
*If you've ever seen our game collection, you know this is no small task.
† See kids! Things *could* be worse!
Tuesday, March 17, 2020
TIL
Tomorrow our district is rolling out online classrooms for every student. It is simultaneously too much and not enough, and I'm reeling a bit from all the new info to assimilate.
Today I Learned:
The very basics of how to use Zoom for a virtual classroom experience.
How to create a bitmoji of myself.
Why the bitmoji app > the bitmoji Chrome extension in every possible respect.
Why browsers without installed scrollbars are crap, especially when you do not have the access to add them as an extension. (this was a re-learning moment, tbh. I already knew it, but it's even more frustrating when you're learning more new tech and it won't work because you can't scroll.)
How to share an assignment and a page in Canvas. (only one of those works, though.)
There is so much more to learn about using Canvas fluidly that maybe it's a good thing we'll be doing this for a long time.
How to create and share a Kidblog page.
That iPads can just share PDFs into Notability or other Apps directly, no down and uploading required.
That the recipe I found for gluten free pie crust is a good one actually worth eating.
That every teacher I work with is willing to step up and change everything with little notice, without any real griping about it when the need arises.
I really, really miss my students already.
I also learned from a friend's blog late last night that I have to get over obsessing about when all this will be over, and when will we return to normal, and move, as gracefully as I can, into How. How will I adapt, how can I help my family, how can I help everyone get through this for as long as it is. How is answerable and useful where When is not. I'm still mourning all the losses and the ones to come, but as best I can, I'm moving into How.
That's what I learned today.
Just imagine what I will learn tomorrow.
Today I Learned:
The very basics of how to use Zoom for a virtual classroom experience.
How to create a bitmoji of myself.
Why the bitmoji app > the bitmoji Chrome extension in every possible respect.
Why browsers without installed scrollbars are crap, especially when you do not have the access to add them as an extension. (this was a re-learning moment, tbh. I already knew it, but it's even more frustrating when you're learning more new tech and it won't work because you can't scroll.)
How to share an assignment and a page in Canvas. (only one of those works, though.)
There is so much more to learn about using Canvas fluidly that maybe it's a good thing we'll be doing this for a long time.
How to create and share a Kidblog page.
That iPads can just share PDFs into Notability or other Apps directly, no down and uploading required.
That the recipe I found for gluten free pie crust is a good one actually worth eating.
That every teacher I work with is willing to step up and change everything with little notice, without any real griping about it when the need arises.
I really, really miss my students already.
I also learned from a friend's blog late last night that I have to get over obsessing about when all this will be over, and when will we return to normal, and move, as gracefully as I can, into How. How will I adapt, how can I help my family, how can I help everyone get through this for as long as it is. How is answerable and useful where When is not. I'm still mourning all the losses and the ones to come, but as best I can, I'm moving into How.
That's what I learned today.
Just imagine what I will learn tomorrow.
Report Card Day-ish?
If you're of a certain age, you can remember that fateful day every 6 - 12 weeks when the teacher would hand you that yellow envelope, sealed, with your name on it. You'd either rip it open, or solemnly stick it into your backpack, and the march home was either one of glory and triumph, or trying to figure out how you'd change a grade without mom noticing.* It was Report Card Day.
In k - 2 we never got grades, just I for improving or S for Satisfactory or the glorious O, for Outstanding. We were graded for things like "Math" and "Handwriting" and "Spelling." It was something even my 2nd grade brain could wrap itself around. By upper elementary we were getting grades. 93% and up was an A, 85% eked out a B. We had "Social Studies" and "Science" and every quarter there would be a handwritten note from the teacher in loopy hieroglyphs that were indecipherable till after grade 3. We would take our report cards around to Pizza Hut and Friendly's to get our free Personal Pan Pizza or Sundae with hot fudge and it was officially a BIG DEAL.
Nowadays, it isn't. Progress Reports are digital, and filled with statements like "Accurately quotes from fiction/nonfiction text when explaining what the text says explicitly, and when drawing inferences from the text." And there is a number, but no number is really bad, they all just indicate "levels of readiness for independent work" or something like that and frankly as a parent I can't quite suss it out, even though I'm a teacher. My kids only know that Progress Reports have come out because I tell them they have, there's no going out for pizza or ice cream and it's just not much of....anything.
We are told to "let our children fail" so that they will learn grit and to get back up again, and to not nag and helicopter parent or push our kids to "just turn your homework in, dammit!" so they may learn it on their own, but....that means there has to be a consequence for failing, doesn't it? No pizza or ice cream, or something other than a "2" on the grade card under "shows personal responsibility." This long, cumbersome report with no fewer than 25 separate little numbers just isn't meaningful to my kid, or to me, really. So we wind up not letting them fail by default till high school, when we're back to a grade for Math and a grade for Science and there are As and Bs and Ds and Fs and they have lasting consequences. I have tremendous fear of watching my child fail then, and not really knowing how to help any more than I do now.**
Despite all our connectivity, there is a deep disconnect between what is happening at school and what is happening at home, and I feel it on both sides. We developed this system to be a more nuanced and detailed way for families to hold teachers accountable for all aspects of learning, but it didn't quite work the way it was intended. There's an overload of information, so much that it is all just becoming noise.
Digital learning is saving us right now, and it's clearly leading the way into the future, but there is still something to be said for getting that little yellow envelope with the signature lines that is so heavy with promise of either joy or dread. There is something weighty and meaningful about the henscratch or loopy handwriting that says "I know your child" in a way that "Comments 6 and 14" do not. There is a solemnity to the ritual of handing over the report card at dinnertime, and seeing your mother's face as she reads it.
There is something to it, and I wish we had it back.
*note to Mom: I never did this.
**how to instill motivation into an unmotivated person was not in the Parenting Manual. Or the Teaching Manual. If anyone ever finds a foolproof method, they could make a fortune.
In k - 2 we never got grades, just I for improving or S for Satisfactory or the glorious O, for Outstanding. We were graded for things like "Math" and "Handwriting" and "Spelling." It was something even my 2nd grade brain could wrap itself around. By upper elementary we were getting grades. 93% and up was an A, 85% eked out a B. We had "Social Studies" and "Science" and every quarter there would be a handwritten note from the teacher in loopy hieroglyphs that were indecipherable till after grade 3. We would take our report cards around to Pizza Hut and Friendly's to get our free Personal Pan Pizza or Sundae with hot fudge and it was officially a BIG DEAL.
Nowadays, it isn't. Progress Reports are digital, and filled with statements like "Accurately quotes from fiction/nonfiction text when explaining what the text says explicitly, and when drawing inferences from the text." And there is a number, but no number is really bad, they all just indicate "levels of readiness for independent work" or something like that and frankly as a parent I can't quite suss it out, even though I'm a teacher. My kids only know that Progress Reports have come out because I tell them they have, there's no going out for pizza or ice cream and it's just not much of....anything.
We are told to "let our children fail" so that they will learn grit and to get back up again, and to not nag and helicopter parent or push our kids to "just turn your homework in, dammit!" so they may learn it on their own, but....that means there has to be a consequence for failing, doesn't it? No pizza or ice cream, or something other than a "2" on the grade card under "shows personal responsibility." This long, cumbersome report with no fewer than 25 separate little numbers just isn't meaningful to my kid, or to me, really. So we wind up not letting them fail by default till high school, when we're back to a grade for Math and a grade for Science and there are As and Bs and Ds and Fs and they have lasting consequences. I have tremendous fear of watching my child fail then, and not really knowing how to help any more than I do now.**
Despite all our connectivity, there is a deep disconnect between what is happening at school and what is happening at home, and I feel it on both sides. We developed this system to be a more nuanced and detailed way for families to hold teachers accountable for all aspects of learning, but it didn't quite work the way it was intended. There's an overload of information, so much that it is all just becoming noise.
Digital learning is saving us right now, and it's clearly leading the way into the future, but there is still something to be said for getting that little yellow envelope with the signature lines that is so heavy with promise of either joy or dread. There is something weighty and meaningful about the henscratch or loopy handwriting that says "I know your child" in a way that "Comments 6 and 14" do not. There is a solemnity to the ritual of handing over the report card at dinnertime, and seeing your mother's face as she reads it.
There is something to it, and I wish we had it back.
*note to Mom: I never did this.
**how to instill motivation into an unmotivated person was not in the Parenting Manual. Or the Teaching Manual. If anyone ever finds a foolproof method, they could make a fortune.
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