Two years have passed since the start of a series of events that culminated in C. leaving school in the middle of 7th grade to homeschool. I’ve alluded to it. It’s been the elephant in the room. Well, I think I’m finally going to try to write about it. So here goes.
Our family and C. entered 6th grade with high hopes. She was coming off of two difficult years: 4th grade in a Center program, and a really awful 5th grade year in “normal” school. I was convinced that the main “issue” was a poor educational fit–namely lack of challenge and intellectual peers. During that 5th grade year some urged us to apply to private schools for middle school. But regardless of the path we chose (and we couldn’t afford private), we needed some answers to help us figure out what was going on with this child, how to go forward, how to navigate into middle school and beyond. So at the very end of 5th grade we took C. to Johns Hopkins Center for Talented Youth Diagnostic and Counseling Center for a two-day evaluation. The results came back mid-summer: not only was she “gifted,” she was “profoundly gifted” (a term, btw, that it took me a loooong time to come to terms with). It was immensely gratifying–finally–to “own” the data, and to have the opinion of neutral, highly respected outside experts. It was wonderful to feel supported, to be directed to additional resources.
We felt very optimistic about the coming school year. C. was entering one of our county’s vaunted magnet programs, the ones we had been hearing about since preschool. Finally, we thought, she’ll find a proper educational fit. She’ll have peers. The program even focused on her strength area.
To help things start off on the right foot we followed the suggestion of CTY and–before school even started–sent the CTY report to the magnet coordinator with a cover letter explaining what had led us to do the testing and expressing our optimism for the coming school year. When C. was accepted into the Davidson Young Scholars program, we passed that information on to the school. Also on CTY’s recommendation, we began seeing a counselor to help deal with the transition into middle school. C. and I went for several sessions through the fall, but by Christmas she decided didn’t want to go anymore and I agreed. Things were going very well. C. was happy. She had become friends with a nice group of girls. She got involved in drama–a wonderful outlet–and Girl Scouts. Her grades were excellent. I didn’t see the point.
The only “blip” was in February, when the mind-numbing prep started for the MSA. Like clockwork I started to hear the complaining, the “I don’t like school” statements, especially about English. C. found the test prep stupid and frustrating. (For my party, I wondered why these kids who had been tested to within an inch of their lives to get in and were clearly the best of the best, had to undergo any prep for this on-level state test.)
Vigilant because of our 5th grade experience, I sent an e-mail to the English teacher to “check in.” In her reply she said she was “surprised” by my e-mail. According to her, C. was doing well both academically and socially. A few days later I contacted the school counselor and shared my concerns with her as well, and asked if she could very casually check in with C.’s other teachers. The following month we spoke on the phone and exchanged e-mails. In the intervening weeks she had talked to teachers and done some casual observation. I wrote to her that I was “glad to hear that according to her teachers things seem to be fine with C. at school.” With each of these exchanges–the teacher and the counselor–I referenced the CTY report and suggested they follow up with the magnet coordinator, who had a copy.
I decribed it as a “good” year. “Any year that I don’t have to talk to the school,” I would say half in jest, “is a ‘good’ year.” (I would later modify that assessment somewhat. It turns out C. had spent countless hours throughout the school year researching boarding schools and private schools.)
So as C. entered 7th grade I envisioned smooth sailing, more of the same. Things were so good, in fact, that at the start of the school year I actually contemplated looking for a full-time job. Little did I know how quickly things could change.
It started with science class. In 6th grade, science had been–surprisingly–her favorite class, a testament to the teacher, who was inventive, engaging and charismatic. Seventh grade was different. Partially it was that this teacher simply wasn’t last year’s teacher…and the contrast was jarring. Partially it was the material, which according to C. was just more of the same. And partially it was the class itself. There were close to 35 students in the class. It was supposed to be GT but it wasn’t operating at that level, thanks to the push to advance marginal kids. Group work was an exercise in frustration. And C. was bored. She would do her work, which largely consisted of exercises from the book, and just sit. Or read.
The reading did her in. As bad luck would have it, on a single day she was reprimanded in English for reading when she wasn’t supposed to, and later the same day reprimanded in front of the class by the science teacher for “sneak reading.” The science teacher told C. that she had heard of her earlier infraction from the English teacher. That was that. C. was outraged that they were discussing her.
I took what I thought was an even approach. I talked about how we all have to adjust to new situations, new teachers, different ways of doing things. I counseled her to give it a chance. I wanted her to find a way to work it out. But the complaints persisted. Finally, I called the program coordinator, asking for some advice on how to approach the situation. Predictably, she suggested I wait and see and then talk to the teacher.
I guess I’m a wuss. I have always found it very difficult to talk to a teacher in these kinds of situations. As a parent, you are never operating from a position of strength. You are one step removed from the situation because you’re not in the classroom. You can’t possibly know what’s happening there. You just see the symptoms and of course you’re biased. Meanwhile the teacher is there, and what’s more, “the expert.” He/she is the adult. The child is the malleable object. So who has the power here? It would be the rare teacher who upon hearing “Hi, my daughter seems to be really unhappy in your class” would express sympathy and strive to see it from the child’s perspective, who would think that perhaps something he/she was/wasn’t doing could be the cause. No, the typical response is defensive, to say “Really? Well, X. does seem to have trouble with X. and that’s because he/she needs to X…. He/she needs to be more X….”
The discontent spread.
Two days after that call I sent the program coordinator an e-mail.
You may recall that I spoke with you the other day seeking advice about my daughter and her frustrations with science class. In general I try to let her work things out over time, because those things happen and are part of school and work life. But I just wanted to let you know that I just spent 10 minutes this morning in front of the school persuading my daughter to go inside. She didn’t want to go to school. Over the past few days she has been upset about her interactions with (two other teachers) and feels that they “don’t like me.” When her distress extends to not wanting to go to school, and multiple teachers, I begin to become concerned. Could you please let me know what advice you have for such a situation?
It was the third week of September.
Her reply was that if I didn’t think it was a temporary issue, I should contact the team leader and an arrange a “team meeting.” She and the school counselor would also be in attendance.
Two days later I reported that the feelings were intensifying and contacted the team leader to schedule a meeting in an effort to find ways to keep C. school positive. Two days after that I got a response. They could schedule an emergency meeting, but the coordinator would be absent due to a school function, or we could wait a week. I decided to hold off. C. wasn’t across the board school averse. There were other classes she loved. It was half her schedule, in other words every other day.
Things were building. Around this time she learned that she didn’t get a role in school play after two roles in 6th grade. She took it hard. Why? she asked again and again. The seeming randomness nagged her. For a few days she lost her all-important agenda and thus wasn’t able to produce a “pass” in order to meet with a teacher for a conference for her research paper. She did poorly on a quiz, was reprimanded for reading, felt condescended to. To an adult no one thing would seem to be very significant, but for a 7th grader, taken together and sprinkled with a few hormones, it congealed into a huge ball of badness. C. started calling me after school, tears in her voice, and asking me to pick her up from school, rather than ride the bus. There was also stress at home. Longtime renters, we were being forced to move, and I was having a very hard time coming to terms with the situation. Typical of highly gifted kids, of kids with those sensitivities and overexcitabilities, she absorbed my stress and sadness like a sponge…
(To be continued.)
Different circumstances, far better schools than what we had, but so much like my daughter. She is quick to think the world is against her, she sees right through the bull at school (talking down to kids, teaching them rote memorization, taking off points for petty things) and absorbs my stress to the nth degree. Unfortunately, she’s also at an age to make some decisions for herself and she chose to do the advanced classes at the “normal” school versus going to the gifted magnet this year. (I would have had to push to get her in, and she was adamently against it, so I let it go). Some days I think the teen years are going to be the end of me. Good to know I’m not alone anyway!
And for what its worth, I probably would not have handled things as well as you did – it’s hard to find the balance between “proactive” and “annoying helicopter mom” – especially because schools are quick to label us as the latter.
Oh I don’t know that I handled things all that well, Christina. It gets worse.
I am so glad you pulled her out. I think middle school is dreadful even if you fit in like a finger in a glove — much less if you don’t, and worse, are being forced to do endless test prep. I’m curious to see your next post.
My time at school was also a bit of a nightmare, especially around this age, and ended up with me barely speaking in school for two years or so, even to the point that I could hardly get a word out to answer the register. I felt at the time that the teachers didn’t like me, and were doing things to make it more difficult for me, and although my parents told me that that was nonsense, looking back I can’t say I’ve changed my mind.
Some of the decisions my teachers made I can’t rationalize, even now. I realise that they had to make the best decision for all of their students, not just the best decision for me, but some of their actions seemed almost out to be cruel.
I was one of those kids who was good at math. My school taught by ability groupings in math, science, english and languages from seventh grade. In each half of the year group (say, 80 kids) there were four ability groups for each of these subjects. In seventh grade I was in the top ability group, and spent most of the year doing busy work having finished the regular questions in our patronizingly easy workbooks. (e.g. you know how to make a tally chart for twenty entries, now try 200). In eighth grade they told us that they would have “two equal top groups” (in my half of the year group only, in my year only), called group one and group two which were equally good at math. They then proceeded to read out the names for each group. Group one contained, plus or minus a few, the same as the top ability group from the previous year. Group two contained the second ability group from the previous year… and me. That was the year I really switched off math.
During my time in grades seven through ten, no prizes were awarded for outstanding academic achievement. These prizes were reinstated the year I moved out of the eligible year group. Students were given awards for representing the school five times or more in sport or music – despite having represented the school numerous times in academic competitions, I never gained a single award, prize or mention. Now that I’m older, I don’t know why it bothered me – it’s such a petty thing, but at the time I felt unwelcome and hated there.
In tenth grade I was banned from asking questions in one subject.
In eleventh grade I was banned from answering questions in two of my five subjects because I was disrupting the class by answering correctly. This was also the year when there were more chances to take part in interesting activities. Two of my teachers (for the subject I eventually ended up going to college to study) were great and really opened doors for me and did their best to help me and check I was applying to appropriate colleges. Others were fine. The teachers for another subject (the one I grew to hate in school, eventually switched to in college because I loved it, and am now studying in grad school) did what they could to obstruct me – to the point that when they asked if anyone wanted to be nominated to go to a two week international camp in the subjects I was studying, and I was the only one who volunteered, they went around the rest of the class, saying that they didn’t want to nominate me and did anyone else want to do it. (Eventually they grasped that nobody else cared enough to spend holiday time at an educational camp, nominated me, I got through and made my first friends as a teenager.) When I got through to a national competition for my favourite subject, letting them know well in advance of the one day I’d be off school, an important practical exam required for university was scheduled for that very date. When I got a prize and was selected to go through to an international level, it was ignored. At the end of this year I missed some time from school to participate in two different week long (school nominated) programs that would stretch me in the subjects I was most interested in. On returning, I was surprised by the hostility of these teachers and the comment that I thought I was “too good” when I said that I had missed a homework due to being away.
In twelfth grade I was applying to colleges. The teacher in charge of twelfth grade asked if anyone wanted to go to a talk on applying to competitive/prestigious universities. I was one of a group who asked to take part – but was the only one who received a hostile comment on “although your grades are good, they want something more”. I twice more walked into a class and found the teacher explaining to the other students how I wouldn’t get into a good university because I was boring/had no personality/in some way deficient despite my good grades. It was decided that it wasn’t worth entering anyone in for an exam that we had been told would help for university entry, because I was the only student in the school who passed the computing component after working through the syllabus in my own time.
I’m so glad that I’ve left that place. Most of my friends have positive memories of their time in school, and some even enjoyed most of it, but for me it was a bleak and often hellish time. Your story rings a bell because I was also always being told that it would get better next year, when a certain course started, when I started a new school. I really believed that it would get better, that the course would be interesting, the students motivated, and that the teacher would care. It never worked out.
It took a few years out of school before I stopped mentally switching off every time I sat down in an academic setting, or stopped trying to hide the fact that I was interested or cared about a subject.
I really feel for C, and the time that she seems to have had at school, and I really admire the way that you’ve done your best to help her. At the same time, it’s almost comforting to find that it wasn’t me, that there was nothing wrong with me as a person, and that there are other people who experience this kind of hostility and hatred from adults who are supposed to help them. I’m still trying to figure out the way I was treated in school (you can probably tell), and what the teachers were thinking. I do a lot of voluntary work with kids now, and I know that if I acted that way towards a child, I would know I was being harsh and unkind – that I was letting the fact that I personally didn’t like the child get in the way of my better judgement. I know that if I saw another adult persistently acting that way towards a child, I would call them up on it.
To an adult no one thing would seem to be very significant, but for a 7th grader, taken together and sprinkled with a few hormones, it congealed into a huge ball of badness.
I think that is the hardest thing to explain. Looking back, I can’t pick out anything that I can say was blatantly wrong, cruel or out of line. I’m sure that to my parents and other adults, I was just being hypersensitive, and reading too much into things – being immature and not dealing well with things not going my way. But although I can’t put my finger on it… there was something not right in that school.
Middle school/junior high seems to be pretty much the worst time for kids in general. For me, 6th grade was truly dreadful. I had the misfortune of not only being one of the oldest kids in my class (since I had a January birthday and the school’s cutoff at the time was 12/31), but also hitting puberty on the youngish side. So at the beginning of 6th grade I was wearing a 36C bra when the other girls were at most in training ones. I had to endure horrendous sexual harassment from the boys (back then the administration had a “boys will be boys” attitude about this) and bullying from the girls.
In addition to the social nastiness, the academics that year were a joke. The district was in the midst of transitioning from having the elementary school run from K-4 to having it be K-6. So in 5th grade, we were part of the junior high school with very challenging academics & high expectations. Then in 6th, all of a sudden we were back at the elementary school and coddled like little kids.
What really frustrates me is that the school had wanted me to skip 4th grade but my parents refused out of concern about how I’d fare socially being younger than my classmates. If they’d just said yes, I’m positive my 6th grade experience would’ve been much better. It would’ve been at the jr. high with the more challenging academics and I would’ve hit puberty right about the same time as most of the other girls.
Anon, thanks for sharing your story. It sounds like you have managed to work through and beyond these very negative experiences and come out the other side as a thoughtful and caring person.
Crimson Wife, thanks for your story too. It’s always good to hear testimonials in favor of acceleration…so many people have very visceral reactions against it. Each kid is different (duh!) and the option should at least be there for families–and kids–to make the choice based on a variety of factors. As for the sexual harassment you endured…ugh. It’s amazing what was given a pass “back in the day!”
You’re leading me to wonder. My daughter, a 7th Grader is OK in current placement at an alternative private school. It’s not perfect, but her teachers are supportive.
But, I’m worried about what will happen when she graduates at the end of 8th Grade. Back to Public School?
I’m homeschooling the younger brother, but I don’t see it as a good fit for my daughter. Not sure that any options in our area will be a good fit.
I’ll keep on reading to see what you & your daughter do.
I really don’t get why my parents had such a hang-up about not wanting me to skip. After all, had I been born 3 weeks sooner, I would’ve been in that class. It’s not like I had a summer or fall birthday and missed the cutoff by half a year or more. Even then, a skip still might’ve been appropriate but I could understand being a little hesitant about the prospect. Given that I had a January birthday, it seems a no-brainer to follow the school’s recommendation. Too bad that’s not what happened
[...] October 13, 2008 by SwitchedOnMom [Continuation of earlier post] [...]