I’d been putting it off. I’d been hoping that I wouldn’t have to go there. But after continued pleas from M. and no signs of any changes as a result of my fall advocacy efforts on her behalf, last Monday I sent an e-mail to the principal and the literacy coach, asking for an update on academic goals for M. as we move into the second half of the year. The timing was probably right. Three days later, on Thursday, M. flat-out refused to go to school. She swore she wasn’t behind in her schoolwork. She just didn’t want to go, for all the reasons I’ve been hearing all school year.
By that point I was just about exploding. I am SO fed up dealing with this. I was mad at her for not getting with the program and liking school–like hundreds! and thousands! of other kids–even after all these months. I loved school as a kid! I was mad at the school for not being able to make her like school. I was feeling sorry for myself that for some reason I was the only mother I knew of who was having these issues. And in the heat of the moment I said to myself…and then to Husband Dear…. Screw it. I’m going to homeschool. I don’t care how impossible it seems, I can do it, I’ll talk to my boss. We can do it. We will make it work. View it as a four month sabbatical, and then reassess for 7th grade. There’s no way it can be worse.
So on Friday, Husband Dear (whose day off it was) and I went to the previously scheduled meeting (because you always need to go armed with testosterone and another set of ears). I also know that one should always go in knowing what you want the outcome to be. I was going in without any expectation of any positive or concrete outcome–and with serious thoughts of homeschooling brewing. Were they all of a sudden going to announce a subject skip for her? Independent study or a small grouping with other kids at M.’s level? No. And what could they realistically do anyway when it’s really, as some students of mine used to say, “a general malaise.” So the meeting was about satisfying my curiosity. Knowing they would and could do nothing, what would they say?
We waited for 15 minutes and then were shown into the principal’s office. The reading coach and the English content specialist were already there. After introductions I recapped the issues: M. is feeling underchallenged and she doesn’t want to come to school. The principal listened carefully and asked some questions, trying to ascertain if this was an academic issue or a social issue, just in English or other subjects as well. We cast it as academic, focusing on English because that’s an area of strength. It’s social to the extent that M. doesn’t feel she has an academic peer group. But “social” in terms of does she have friends, kids she eats lunch with, jokes around with..is she “okay?” That’s not the issue at all. (How does one diplomatically say that the entire school experience has become a soul suck?)
The principal asked the literacy coach, have you spoken with M.? You know, I chimed in, to get a sense of her vocabulary, what books she likes, a sense of her intellect and engagement. Um, no. She was working with the teacher through observations and feedback to increase the rigor and critical thinking. Three times in the course of the meeting she used the word “pedagogy.” I just about died.
I mentioned that M. had told me that they were going to do a unit on Langston Hughes for the poetry unit. M. said she did the exact same unit last year. The principal and specialists smiled, “Well, the truth is that most students probably would be doing a Langston Hughes poetry unit every year. It’s how the curriculum spirals.” The principal likened it to doing Shakespeare over multiple years. I have nothing against Langston Hughes…but these are the exact same worksheets. And I know for a fact that the kids in the Humanities magnet are not doing Langston Hughes. In fact, they just finished reading the The Good Earth and The Red Scarf Girl. M. is reading California Blue. When I voiced my frustration over the spiraling curriculum… over the inability to accelerate in language arts… over how maddening it is for kids who get it the first time, they were eager to tell me about the new 7th grade English curriculum that will be rolled out next year as part of middle school reform, modeled on the magnet curriculum. Nice. But that’s next year.
I asked if they had M.’s MAP-R scores handy. They eagerly pulled them out. Evidently M.’s scores had gone up a healthy amount between the fall and winter testing (unlike her sister, whose scores *dropped* three years running in elementary and middle school. Hello!) What’s more they showed us the class results. I was so surprised (all the names were with the data) that it took me some time to focus on M.’s scores, and then figure out where she stood in the class. I wish I had photographic memory, or had thought to scribble down the class low as well, so that I could have gotten a sense of the range encompassed by this GT class (I think there were kids in the high 40s). But it all went so fast I didn’t really have a chance to focus on anything other than M. had the second highest scores in the class.
They also pulled out M.’s grades from last semester, noting the teacher’s comment that M. needed to work on her writing, and pointing out an assignment where she had an “x,” meaning not turned in. Well, they’ve done almost no writing in that class–at least that I’ve seen. Second, all the writing she has received back from the teacher has been graded as “excellent.” And third, the assignment they singled out was done, just handed in too late. She still ended the quarter with an A and a numerical grade in the mid 90s. So much for that.
So what to do? The principal said he/she wasn’t aware that other bright kids in M.’s class were unhappy, but would have the specialists check in with the teacher. Implication, “You seem to be the only family which is having a problem and your kid isn’t even the smartest kid in the class.” The principal invited us to come to the school any time and observe (which is to be commended, it’s not like that everywhere) hoping that to know them would be to love them, thinking perhaps that our perceptions about the school were just off. Maybe. The principal noted that M. could be given additional work, but there’s no extra credit in MCPS. And he/she rightly stated that the issue wasn’t really more work…it was different work. And to that they just came up empty.
I think you need to consider a couple of things beyond the challenge of this one class.
First of all, how much of M’s unhappiness with how much she’s challenged and requests to homeschool come from a desire for attention and appreciation that would put her on an even playing field with C? It’s really tough to be the younger sibling of a highly gifted child — it wouldn’t be unreasonable for her to want to be homeschooled because it validated her as a gifted child, too. Or that your going to bat for her in this one class would be seen as proof that you care about her and appreciate her gifts as much as you do her sister’s gifts. Perhaps this is an indication that she needs nurturing and support in other ways too.
Second, if it’s really just this one class that’s an issue, what about the value of sticking it out? Throughout life, gifted people encounter situations (and co-workers and bosses) where their gifts are not appreciated, they are not challenged, etc. It comes with the territory. I think there’s a great value in learning to make the best of things, figuring out ways to challenge yourself, learning to interact with people who think they are smarter than you but probably aren’t, etc.
If it were the entire program or even more than one class, or she was miserable socially, that would be one thing. But sticking with one class for another four months could be a life lesson that would be valuable to her later on.
Hi Lara,
Thanks for your post. To your first point, I think you’re right on. I don’t doubt that there are self-esteem issues, sibling issues playing out here that are all mixed up with her feelings about school. Which doesn’t diminish the desire to homeschool or find a “solution.”
To your second point…well that’s where I might part ways. I think “sticking it out” is often overrated. I’ve noted before, “kid years” are a lot like dog years. A month is a blip to us adults but an eternity to a kid. We should appreciate that perspective. And she has stuck it out and learned the lessons you mention. What about the lesson that life is short, that we take responsibility for our own happiness and experience in life? Those are important lessons too. Just another perspective.
I feel your pain. I had a child in a similiar situation last year. We advocated for him to no avail and in the end had him stick it out. It was a mistake. He still has not fully recovered from the trauma of dealing with a teacher who did not want to be bothered. When faced this year with yet another year with the same teacher we chose to have him take an on-line class through CTY. Our only regret is that we didn’t make this move sooner. It has been an amazing experience. He just finished a years worth of Honors Geometry in 4.5 months and is able to move on top Algebra II. Our situation was interesting because we were NOT the only parents with an unhappy student. The problem was that this particular teacher is highly regarded by her peers. At one point we were told that the problem was our parenting style and it appeared we coddled our son.
I believe that you should go with your gut instinct. It doesn’t matter if she is not the brightest in the class, what matters is how this negative experience will color her educational experience from here on out.
I could have written your post myself. I went back and read older posts and was astounded when I came across nthe one that stated 75% and up is classified as G&T. If that is true of the class your child is in it is no wonder she is not happy. In our district I believe the cut off is 90% and frankly if you have a child in the 99% even that smaller spread is too much. I hope you are able to quickly find a solution that works.
Did they ever consider that the brightest kid in the class may have a very different temperament than M.? My brother and I tested the exact same for IQ but we had very different school experiences. I was the stereotypical Type A overachiever teacher’s pet, while my brother was the stereotypical gifted underachiever who refuses to put up with all the B.S. We were both bored by the slow pace and lack of challenge, but where I silently daydreamed or surreptitiously did creative writing during class, he very vocally complained.
The administration cannot assume that M.’s classmate is happy just because they haven’t heard any grumbling from him/her.
***I am SO fed up dealing with this. I was mad at her for not getting with the program and liking school–like hundreds! and thousands! of other kids–even after all these months. I loved school as a kid! I was mad at the school for not being able to make her like school. I was feeling sorry for myself that for some reason I was the only mother I knew of who was having these issues.***
Of course you realize that this is not true in the least?:o) While hundreds and thousands may love school (I did) there are hundreds and thousands who do not. Some of these act out, some give up, many learn to accept that they just “are not smart”. Despite what we are led to believe, schools just can not always meet the needs of all the kids they serve. And it is not the kids’ fault.
Learning styles play a big part in enjoyment at school. You and I are definitely left brained and therefore we did great and enjoyed it. M. (like Jason) is right brained, so the fit is just not as good. M. has a lot of other strengths which have helped her compensate, but ultimately, the approach they are taking in school does not utilize her natural learning style and abilities.
Just wanted to say congrats and I can’t blame you for pulling her out.
) All the energy that you have to expend on getting her what she needs at the school must be exhausting…I don’t know how you have done it this long. ;o)
Good luck and hope that you can find something that works!
[...] 19, 2009 by SwitchedOnMom We walked out of that meeting shaking our heads. Words. The realization sinking in that nothing was going to change, could [...]
Thanks so much Stephanie for the words of support! I also don’t underestimate the role that knowing that there *was* another option out there fueled her discontent. How many kids (and parents) “deal” with school because that’s all they can do or know. I know (and I think she knows) that she/we’re incredibly lucky that we can do this for her.
Good point, Crimson Wife. And I didn’t even mention/blog about the incident of walking M. into school one day and a randome girl mounting the steps next to me saying to no on in particular “I hate this place!”
Gee, that’s positive. Now of course these are all pubescent teens we’re talking about her and a certain amount of sullen discontent is par for the course. But still…
[...] than the recent Singam case. Or just read my post on this subject earlier in the week. Or what happened with my other daughter when subject acceleration was suggested (Update: At her new (not MCPS) school my seventh grader is [...]