Tag Archives: school

Is Your Child Ready For Kindergarten?

Five years ago, we  had THE TALK. Not THAT ONE, the other one—the one where you meet with the preschool teacher about whether to send the baby to kindergarten.  Mothering a brood is supposed to make decisions like this one less fraught. Experience times 4 or 5 should make you wiser, right? Was I really supposed to still be wringing sweat from my hands trying to decide if my child  was ready for kindergarten?

Trying to decide if your preschooler is ready for kindergarten? Asking friends, family, and the internet is one way to deicide if "red-shirting" is right for your child | Sisterhood of the Sensible Moms

Unfortunately, there was no “GET OUT OF THIS CONVERSATION FREE” card for me this time. I promised my husband to muzzle it and let the teacher talk. The main arguments for holding my son back were that he was physically small, has a birthday in the late summer, and the majority of his class cohort has much older birthdays so he looks even younger in comparison. These were fair arguments, just not compelling ones—at least to me. With no concerns about my son’s academic readiness, his social skills, or his developmental readiness, the teacher felt strongly that another year could be a gift to him—another year to play and be a little boy. Who wouldn’t get on board with that? The only thing I said during our hour was “Thank you, we would like some time to think this over.”

And that’s what I did, except when I said “think it over” what I meant was give myself time to read everything I could find and poll every person I know. At this point, I want to be able to say that the research (the paper kind and the people kind) clarified everything, but what I found was. . . contradictory at best.

There were some very good reasons for holding him back. One study found that the youngest students were much more likely to be diagnosed with ADHD and were three times as likely to repeat a grade. Umm, no thank you. Another study found that the oldest students were most likely to become student leaders. Well, what parent DOESN’T want that? At this point, I started daydreaming about my sweet boy as class president circa Class of 2022! But by far the most compelling argument for another year of PreK was what my mother (former preschool and kindergarten teacher) said: “You cannot underestimate the power of feeling confident and capable in the classroom.” Maybe Momma IS always right.

I was all ready to give him another year, but, of course, then I kept reading. The arguments against another year of Pre-K pushed me right back on my fence. There were negligible long-term academic benefits. The differences between the oldest and the youngest are the largest on the first day of kindergarten, but the advantages decrease over time. Younger students catch up with the oldest by third grade. Even studies that matched each child who delayed entrance with a child of like intelligence who had not delayed entrance did not find any solid proof that this practice made any difference at all.

Wowzers. What’s a good girl to do with data like this? So I shared it with my husband and then with Ellen, who both love a good dive into some research the way I love me a Netflix marathon. In the end, this was the take-away: despite research indicating there is no real benefit, it is becoming a common practice to “red-shirt” for kindergarten.  While there are no large studies with good statistical significance to show that it is beneficial to hold back, it is most often recommended to white males with summer birthdays. Quite frankly, there are also whiffs that it is recommended so that schools have better scores on their rankings.

But even after this fair-minded even-handed analysis, I was still undecided. I called my dad, the fair-minded judge and father of 4. It’s his daily work to evaluate two sides of an issue, balance interests, and come up with good solutions. He just said, “What did your mother say? Do that.” Well, that was helpful. Thanks, Dad.

And my girlfriends? I leaned hard on those who had a summer baby that had started school already, but I was open to all advice. The results, while very much appreciated, were mixed and, in the end, not all that helpful. Asking the question did help move the needle a little though. I heard validated time and again what I already knew: all of these kids, including mine, are going to be just fine no matter what side I came down on. The decisions to start preschool or kindergarten and when are important decisions, but they are not deal-breakers. Kids grow where they are planted and nourished and cared for. I knew that. I needed to remember that. And the fifth time around this tree made it easier to see that.

At decision time, despite having to surrender my Good Girl crown, I went against the teacher’s advice and sent my child to kindergarten. This conclusion didn’t arise from any single thing we read or brilliant insight someone shared. The readiness assessments, while they did make us feel better, weren’t the deciding factors either. In the end, our son went to kindergarten, because one night after we put him to bed, Steve and I looked at each other and at the same moment said, “He’s ready.”  He went because he was ready, and we both felt that to be true.

So five years later, how did things turn out for us and our boy? Well, there were mixed results for awhile. While he adjusted to kindergarten well and was meeting academic milestones with his peers, when I had a meeting with his teacher in the spring, she still had some concerns. Chief among them was that he was the youngest in his class (sound familiar?) and because this particular class skewed old, he looked young. Was he still appropriate for his age? Yes. Was he a behavior problem? No. Was she concerned about him academically? Not really. Was he driving her a little crazy? Maybe. We repeated this pattern in the classroom for the next couple years. But by third grade, he was doing so well, he earned himself the Citizenship Award that earned him a dog. But that’s a story for another day.

Bottom Line for You: If you plow forward with your summer baby and keep him or her with their birth cohort, you might still be talking about this or thinking about this. For AWHILE.  This means that if you follow this path, you may be sitting in the little chairs discussing issues a little more often than other parents.

Remember what the literature said: it can take until third grade until everything evens out. Or not. All kids are different.

We are still putting one foot in front of the other and moving forward taking one day at a time with this child, but that’s honestly just parenting as I know it. Now we ask questions like: is he ready for the next step, challenge, or opportunity? So far, with love and guidance, the answer has been yes.

-Erin

Trying to decide if your preschooler is ready for kindergarten? Asking friends, family, and the internet is one way to deicide if "red-shirting" is right for your child | Sisterhood of the Sensible Moms

For additional resources, we suggest you check out this great 60 Minutes segment about kindergarten redshirting. Definitely worth a look if you are also in the midst of this decision.

Also, Steve and I found some great resources online to determine academic readiness from sources like Scholastic, BabyCenter, and FamilyEducation.com. We took two readiness assessments—one from School Sparks and one from Covenant Home.

Hey! Want to buy our new book? I Just Want to Be Perfect brings together 37 hilarious and relatable essays that showcase the foibles of ordinary women trying to be perfect.

I Just Want to Be Perfect

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Teach Kids to Take Responsibility for Their Schoolwork

Practical Tips for How to Teach Kids to Take Responsibility for Their Schoolwork. Before you stop hovering, you must teach them the skills to be self-sufficient. Think of it as giving them training wheels for responsibility. | Parenting | Sisterhood of the Sensible Moms

You know how foals basically drop out of the womb trotting? Wouldn’t it be great if human babies had some self-sufficiency like that? Minus the hoofs, of course. Instead, they are helpless lumps who train us parents from early on to take care of all of their needs . . . and it’s hard to stop. We’re conditioned to swoop in even when diapers are a distant memory and the “needs” at hand are that they NEED to turn in their blasted math homework on time.

Even if you’re bound and determined to not be a helicopter parent, it’s hard to know just how to back off. They needed your homework checking/grade tracking/assignment monitoring ways in early elementary school, but as they approach middle school it’s time to give them the tools to manage their schoolwork on their own.

Think of teaching responsibility the same way you would teach your child to ride a bike. It’s a rare kid who can go from tricycle to bicycle without some training wheels in between. Teaching them to be self-sufficient with assignments works the same way. There are going to be some particularly hard knocks if you expect your child to go from hand-holding to “you’re on your own!” in one great leap. It’s going to be dicey at times, regardless.

Erin has four sons and one daughter and Ellen has two daughters. With the experience earned from parenting seven kids between us, we have developed some tools–training wheels, if you will–your child can use to monitor their own tasks and schoolwork without you slipping into the role of nag. If you have to remind them to do their work, they are not really taking responsibility, but if you teach them how to remind themselves, they have a valuable skill for life.

Training Wheels for Responsibility

Ellen’s Focus for Five

In my house, with my two daughters, much time is spent in front of the bathroom mirror, so when they began middle school, that is where we posted our “Focus for Five” reminder sign. This was their visual cue to take five minutes to think about their day. A pad of sticky notes rested on the counter so my girls could jot down reminders as they thought of them to stick them on the mirror or place in their planners as needed.

Practical Tips for How to Teach Kids to Take Responsibility for Their Schoolwork. Before you stop hovering, you must teach them the skills to be self-sufficient. Think of it as giving them training wheels for responsibility. | Parenting | Sisterhood of the Sensible Moms

  1. What do I have to take today?
  2. What do I have to turn in today?
  3. What do I have to do today?
  4. What do I have to get today?
  5. What dates and deadlines do I need to share today?

Click to print the Focus for Five PDF.

Number five is essential to this training wheel program. It was and is their job to inform me of deadlines instead of the other way around.  Them reporting to me keeps things from (mostly) slipping through the cracks.

Bonus: By giving the system a name, I only have to ask, “Did you focus for five?” at the breakfast table to make sure they did not forget their forgetfulness prevention tool.

Erin’s Backpack Tags

I have five kids–four sons and one daughter–so in my house, if everyone put sticky notes on the bathroom mirror, we would no longer have a mirror. We took a more personalized approach: luggage tag-sized reminders on each of the backpacks. I made checklists on 3 x 5 index cards, covered them with an adhesive laminating sheet, punched holes through the tops, and attached one to each backpack with simple loose leaf binder rings. We started this with my oldest son when he was in elementary school. He was a bit of a distract-a-bat, so I started the tags with things like “Do I have a pencil? My homework? My folder? Did I turn everything in? Did I give Mom papers to sign?”

Practical Tips for How to Teach Kids to Take Responsibility for Their Schoolwork. Before you stop hovering, you must teach them the skills to be self-sufficient. Think of it as giving them training wheels for responsibility. | Parenting | Sisterhood of the Sensible Moms

This is a system that easily grows with your kids. As we progressed through the years, we added things like “Did I remember my recorder? My gym bag? My cleats?” I just made a new list each time. Easy-peasy.

And there is a super duper parenting bonus! Did you notice that both of these techniques encourages your children to talk to you about their days? That is a great habit to instill as you approach the teen years.

By turning over their planners to them, you are empowering them with your trust, building their confidence, and communicating that they are in charge of their own accomplishments. Since life skills are not compartmentalized, this is going to serve them, and you, well when they are faced with tough choices such as lying, cheating, or drinking alcohol. Studies show confident kids are resilient kids who avoid risky behaviors.

Erin’s oldest son is a freshman in college and Ellen’s oldest is a high school senior. Our children went from scattered disasters to assignment managing, grade tracking, college applying, (mostly) deadline meeting young adults. We’re happy to say the rest of our broods are falling in line using these techniques too.

What “training wheels for responsibility” have you used in your home?

Ellen and Erin

Practical tips for how to teach kids to take responsibility for their schoolwork. Before you stop hovering, you must teach them the skills to be self-sufficient. Think of it as giving them training wheels for responsibility. | Parenting | Sisterhood of the Sensible Moms

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6 Ways the Carnival is Just Like Gifted and Talented Camp

Have you gotten to that point in the summer where–if your kids are anything like ours–you can actually see the knowledge oozing out of their ears like a Popsicle melting on a parking lot seven inches away from the concession stand?

Was this the summer you weren’t going to let that happen?

Did you gather brochures for stats camp, space camp, ninja training, and that Rodin sculpting seminar, but they’ve now been used one by one for fly swatters and gum-parking stations?

Did you have every intention of making multiplication flash cards, but haven’t mustered the enthusiasm to buy the index cards or to install the app or to use the calculator on your phone?

Did you purchase the ingredients for that Thunderstorm in a Cup experiment you saw on Pinterest, but they are still clanking around in your trunk with the jumper cables?

Did you check out the entire Charles Dickens collection with every intention of constructing a kicky homage diorama with your kids, but the books are way past due and the librarians are starting to don brass knuckles when you enter the building?

Yeah, summer enrichment seems like a great idea in April when the air is warming and life feels fresh and new. But then the End of  School Year Gomorrah sucks the life out of you with the endless sports banquets AND field trips AND plays AND concerts AND awards assemblies so that even packing school lunches makes you want to strangle a bluebird.

Then summer hits with its breezy schedule and you think, “We all deserve a little break before buckling down,” and before you know it, the only exam your kids can pass is the swim test and you have the motivation of a sloth at a sleep convention to do anything about it.

Don’t bother searching for those brochures! They’re gone; get over it. We have a real solution! TAKE ‘EM TO THE CARNIVAL!

What? Don’t roll your eyes at us. Allow us to construct the excuse justification reasoning, so that by the end of all this, you’ll be calling your accountant to write off the whole adventure as an education expense.

This summer, can you actually see the knowledge oozing out of your kids' ears like a Popsicle melting on a parking lot? Our solution? The carnival is just like gifted and talented camp. Really. From Sisterhood of the Sensible Moms.

Six Ways the Carnival is Just Like Gifted and Talented Camp

1. Future Surgeons of America

Why just learn about how the colon works when you can see it in action? Experiment with how quickly a $3.00 chili dog with three pumps of pseudo-cheese and extra relish can initiate a colon cleanse in a 40 year old woman. Which leads us to . . .

2. Olympians R Us

The Race to the Port-A-Potty Dash where we ALL win if she makes it in time. Watch her hurdle small children and hold in sharts with absolutely no grace whatsoever.

3. Smithsonian Simulation

The carnival is tons better than any textbook. It’s living history really. Where else can you hear a theatrical re-telling of “Tales of  Severed Fingers and the Ferris Wheels That Caused Them” by a safety inspector who was alive during the Civil War?

4. Junior Scientists

Two words: Ball. Pit. So much surface area for so many germs. Each child can get a different disease: ebola, and chiggers, and warts, oh my! Experience is so much better than any book learnin’. CDC here we come!

5. Shakespearean ‘Xperiences

There are OODLES of opportunities for grammar lessons . . . and that’s just in the line to get ride tickets. Explain how the eff bomb is a noun, verb, and an adjective. Oh, and the reading opportunities are so varied and fun! There are signs everywhere–goodies such as “No urinating on the electrical cords” and “May cause death or mutilation.”

That brings us to everyone’s favorite . . .

6. Mathletes Mania

Your child will be able to ace the SATs before they hit puberty with problems like these:

If an unlimited ride bracelet costs a bazillion dollars and 20 tickets costs a bajillion dollars divided by 2 (take into account every ride takes an odd number of tickets, but they are only sold in even sets), how big is the second mortgage you must take out on your home to prevent your child leaving the carnival in tears because they were denied one last chance to spew chunks of their neon blue snow cone on the Tilt-A-Whirl?

See? SEE!? You a believer now? You’re welcome. Now go call your accountant about that tax break and tell them the Sensible Moms sent you.

-Ellen and Erin

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School Pictures Can Suck It

It was as beautiful a fall morning as ever there was. A ray of sun filtered through Erin’s kitchen window spotlighting the telephone handset resting on the table. The two friends were uncharacteristically quiet as they sipped their coffee and the cat curled up on Ellen’s lap.

The phone rang and time seemed to slow down.

“Well, answer it. You know your voicemail is full and they won’t be able to leave a message,” Ellen said.

Erin punched the button and lifted it to her ear. Even so, Ellen could hear, “Congratulations, your loan has been approved.” The radiant smile on Erin’s face confirmed what she overheard. Ellen leapt to her feet, unceremoniously tipping the cat to the floor, to give her friend a hug.

Ellen proclaimed, “Halleluiah, the kids can their get school pictures taken!”

School Pictures Can Suck It---Sisterhood of the Sensible Moms

ErinWell, at least that is how it feels. I have FIVE kids. Five kids, people, and a father who adores school pictures. I take beautiful shots of my kids at the beach and the park. They are natural and expressive photographs and he likes them, but he LOVES the pictures taken by “professionals” in front of official backgrounds.

Ellen– You mean the lapis lazuli vomit swirl background? Really?

ErinSomething about the official-ness of it must speak to his judicially ordered heart and we get the full package for him: the 8 x10 for the homestead stairwell and the 5 x7 for the courthouse office. We spare no expense for the big man.

Ellen – Well, at least someone likes them. I swear I spend a fortune every year, and they just sit in my china cabinet undistributed. This partly due to the fact that they just aren’t a good product, but, to be honest, I let some things slip through the cracks too. I just feel so guilty if I don’t purchase them, like I’m making some larger public statement about how much I love and value my kids.

ErinI got your guilt. This, from Eddie’s teacher, who laid down the guilt gauntlet real good: “Just because he is the fifth child doesn’t mean you shouldn’t buy the picture package.”

Ellen – Ouch!

ErinOh, it gets better. I caved and paid for the pictures. Then. . .

“Everyone had wonderful pictures! You are going to be so excited to see them.” Long pause. “Except for Eddie. We had to take his picture 35 times. The entire class was late to library because of it.”

Ellen– Did you get the bonus didn’t-want-to-make-eye-contact-staring-awkwardly-and-silently-at-the-ground pantomime from the rest of the moms because you were being scolded?

Erin– The end result was just as I predicted: a sourpuss picture of a disgruntled kid. I can get that any day of the week just by telling him no. I don’t need it staring out of a frame at me.

Ellen – I know that look. He seems to get it when we mention blogging, too. Poor tortured soul.

Erin But the real not-so-subliminal message to the world that we might not have our shizz together came when my fourth child had his picture taken . . . in his sports goggles.  My sons, the future Rhodes Scholars, decided to play war THE NIGHT BEFORE class pictures, and, as any parent with 15 minutes of experience could tell you, things got ugly. And fast.

Luckily, the only casualties were Deacon’s glasses and my patience.

Ellen– Luckily, really!?! That seems to be an understatement, Pollyanna.

ErinOkay, we weren’t really lucky. Deacon’s eyes cross without his corrective eyewear, so a pic without glasses was never an option. I called the optometrist, but I can still hear them chuckling at the ridiculousness of my emergency request of making super special prescription glasses in 30 minutes. That’s right. I could hear THEM sharing the can-you-believe-what-this-crazy-mom-just-asked laugh—it was worthy of a group giggle.

My last resort without time or luck on our side were his sports goggles. His big, black, thick goggles complete with strap around the back. While I may cherish this picture and the fond, fond memories it brings, the other moms definitely looked askance at me after that and offered up fashion advice and lots of it.

Erin models the goggles. Saying, “Not tonight honey,” without saying a word.

Ellen – The pressure of the class picture can make you crack. And you just keep telling yourself that message is subliminal. Those bad boys shout out, “This family is really just a steaming ball of hot mess.” Those pictures can’t be hidden in the china closet. They are up for worldwide distribution.

ErinNo one is feeling you more than me right now, Sister.

Ellen– There is the whole what to wear thing EVEN when there is no vanity involved. I’m not talking prissy girls throwing tantrums because they don’t have a shirt to perfectly match the blue of their eyes. I’m talking school-wants-to-make-everything-a-pain-in-my tuckus -because-no-one can-crosscheck-a-calendar.

School Admins: Ruining Mornings Since Little House on the Prairie

ErinI’m just gonna say it OUT LOUD: Jostens and Lifetouch are the cartels, but the schools are the Dr. Evil kingpins pulling the strings and making us dance.

EllenFor real! For this round of pictures,  we got the form for pictures three days before the big day. With Spirit Week, Homecoming, and Halloween gobbling up October, this did not jump to the top of my priority list.

Flash to the morning of pictures and Jellybean comes down dressed like a hobo ready to clean out the garage.

“Honey, today is picture day. Why are you wearing old sweat pants?”

Jellybean-“Because it is the fitness test today in gym.”

Seriously, I’m shelling out $30 for pictures (cheapest substantial package) and the school scheduled the fitness test on the same day?

“Honey, they are taking the CLASS picture today. We can’t have you distributed to multiple households looking like a refugee or one of Erin’s offspring. What about that cute dress you wore on vacation?”

Jellybean- (possibly a little tearful from me calling her a refugee) “But we have to do push-ups, pull-ups, and sit-ups. I can’t wear a skirt!”

Ellen- “So what time is gym?”

Jellybean – “First period.”

Of course it is. 

Ellen- “So you’re telling me that no matter what you wear, you’ll be a hot mess anyway by the time pictures roll around?”

Oy.

Ellen– So tick tock goes the clock, we go upstairs and settle on a embellished tank with a sweater, jeans, and Converse. Whatever, I surrender. The kicker? The gym teacher was absent so the fitness test was cancelled. Winner? The school for messing up my morning for no reason except its own evil entertainment.

ErinSeriously, we have 7 kids between us so the complaints and reminiscing could go on forever. Let’s not forget that school pictures cornered you into highlighting Coco’s hair. But you do have to love the comedy in school pictures, too and what’s more entertaining than sharing OUR throwbacks to school picture days gone by.

Ellen – Are we really doing this?

ErinI modeled the sports goggles. My pride is not an issue for this post.

Erin

Ellen – One of the first things Erin said when she handed me this picture? “Can you believe they didn’t even straighten my necklace?” Yes, that was exactly the first thing I was incredulous about.

ErinWhatever. Your turn.

Ellen – I’m actually proud about how far I have come.

ErinYou should be.

Ellen’s 7th Grade Picture. Believe me, the resolution is good enough.

Ellen – So clearly Erin is classier than me. I chose the group picture because I was not going down alone. We will close with Josten’s Mission Statement because, really, I would like for the whole blogosphere to tell them to suck it.

School Pictures Can Suck It---Sisterhood of the Sensible Moms

ErinJust one more thing I would like to add: Creating images that will cause your offspring to roll on the floor laughing at you with glee in their eyes. Have at them, Blogosphere!

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5 Moms to Avoid at School Open House

We know you’re rocking your mothering gig quite well, but we just might have some tips that will make your life even easier. When it comes to back-to-school we’ve got some experience: Erin is a 15 year veteran, if you count preschool, and Ellen is right behind earning her stripes at 14 years.

Right about now, you may be breathing a sigh of relief because the start of school is a calendar page behind you, and your brood is settling into the comfortable groove of routine. But we say, “Nay, do not let your guard down!”

This is where our experience will be to your benefit because looming on the horizon is School Open House. We know you’ve been there before, but it’s been a whole year since the last one. You may only be remembering stale cookies and sweet teachers, but we’ve had it beaten into us that there are dangers lurking. We hold the proverbial mirror up to you and the truth. Trust us as your guides on what, or more accurately, who to avoid.

5 Moms to Avoid at School Open House. Consider yourself warned! - Sisterhood of the Sensible Moms

1. Clipboard Chick

Seriously, you have your own committees to fill. She can work the other side of the room. You are NOT buying what she is selling.

Good. It looks like she’s moved to the other side of that plate glass window. You know it! This is YOUR house!

2. The Peddler

Speaking of selling, this is the only woman more dreaded than the Clipboard Chick. She has never seen an eyeliner spackle kit, gold-plated garlic press, or convertible fanny pack/dignity coffin/dream killer that she hasn’t wanted to sell you. She always has a party going on if your idea of partying is spending your vacation fund on beach scented candles.

Meanwhile, there is that woman with the clipboard again, better dash to the left.

3. The Tiger Mom

You know the one. Her kids have been prepping for the SATs since second grade. You don’t need that brand of stress burrowing into your brain. “We’re lobbying for Chadwart to take the ACTs in Japanese so he can showcase his full skill set in the most efficient way possible.”

Maybe you do need a gold-plated garlic press . . . to whack her over the head.

 Damn, the Clipboard Chick is right there over your shoulder. Is it too much to ask to pee alone? She is so tacky.

4.  The One Upper

You would think she is the Tiger Mom except she doesn’t have her kids achievements on a running loop. She is a little more skilled than that. She feeds off of your conversation . . . and your will to live, to create a whole new fantastical level of humblebrag. She’s an artisan, really. “Oh your Bonnie collected for Toys for Tots”? Well, our little Magniphyscent organized the toddlers in the YMCA babysitting room to construct toys out of beach detritus and driftwood. Toys for Tots said it was the most creative upcycling of hypodermics they had ever seen.”

This woman is worth studying, though. Thanks to her competitive Pilates training, she has moves to avoid Clipboard Chick that would make a ninja weep with jealousy. She really did you a favor this time by demonstrating her cartwheel/pirouette/moon-walk maneuver. Thanks for the warning that Clipboard Chick is near! Whew, that was a close one.

5.  The Complainer

For her, nothing is right with the curriculum, teachers, food, lighting, locker room water pressure. or toilet paper absorbancy. But will she join a committee or do anything about it? Oh noooooo! She spews negativity like a geyser and avoids taking action like the plague.

But once again, you’re in luck. You won’t have to deal with Madame Debbie Downer today because she’s galloping away from you.

And that’s when you catch your reflection in the band room window . . .

The Clipboard Chick . . .

Cue the Psycho music . . .

Could it be? . . .

NO! . . .

IS YOU!

What have you become?! Even we can’t help you. On a side note, kudos to the new custodial staff for keeping the surfaces so clean, shiny, and reflective.

-Ellen and Erin

 

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Swimming Upstream: What Dyslexia Feels Like

 

swimming upstream

Grrrr. Nothing like an inbox full of missing assignment notifications from school to enjoy with my morning coffee and bowl of cereal.  It’s way too early to pretend that I’m not annoyed with my middle-schooler, and if I’m honest, I’m a little defeated too. These missing assignments are a quarterly event around here. This is not spring fever or end-of-the-year-itis or even I’m-too-cool-i-osis. This is what dyslexia looks like, at least in my house.

My middle son has dyslexia. When he was four, my precocious funny boy was quoting back entire passages from books, picking out the different instruments in “The Nutcracker” and teaching himself how to ride a bike and a skateboard. He was also really struggling to learn the letters of his name. I took him to a group of specialists in Washington, DC who tested him for 5 hours. When they emerged from the testing room with him, the center’s director was laughing and she turned to me, “If you ever tire of him, I’ll take him.” She also said that the testing was inconclusive. There were worrisome issues with some visual processing areas, but he had some real gifts in verbal comprehension and non-verbal processing. And so the story has gone for years even up until just this past week. Dyslexia is a slippery fish and we recognize it more in the shadows than the light.

My son is smart enough and socially gifted enough to swim with the other kids in the classroom who do not share his diagnosis. In fact, if you had to visit his classroom, you would be hard-pressed to pick him out of the crowd of sweaty seventh graders. At first. If you hung around long enough, you would see him start to bob a little. You would notice how hard it is for him to copy notes from the board, you would see that it takes him longer to read a passage, and you would sense his anxiety when presented with a lot of visual information all at once. Dyslexia can look like attention issues and tiredness and even laziness. But how it looks is nothing compared with how it feels.

Tiring, exhausting, confusing, and confounding: dyslexia checks every one of those boxes and then some. On any given day, I can feel any or all of these things when dealing with the fallout of issues dyslexia brings, but that’s nothing compared to what it’s like for my son. For the most part, he just keeps swimming along. Sure, he is working a little harder than everybody else, using up those reserves a little quicker, and pushing himself to the breaking point a little faster, but that’s just how school is for him.

But sometimes he gets overwhelmed. A difficult assignment, a missed class, or just too much work in one week can provide the tipping point that takes him from finishing to flailing. At moments like this, he feels like he is swimming upstream through rough seas with fogged goggles. He quite literally loses his way at the same moment he runs out of steam. These are the moments when the waves crash over him and he starts to sink. It tends to happen around the same point in each semester. Then those emails start filling up my inbox.

So now I sip my coffee and regroup in front of my computer. School is a marathon, not a sprint. This mantra brings peace and some focus. School rewards the long view and the courageous return to the journey every single day.  It forgives momentary failures and allows us to learn from our mistakes. It gives us time to find a way to chart our own course even if we are swimming with a bad fin or dyslexia. Today I will remember that these emails are annoying reminders of the rough seas that mark our marathon journey through school, but that we will do what we have always done—throw him a lifeline, extend our hand, pick him up.

And we will just keep swimming.

-Erin

 

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Helicopter Parents: How to Know if You Are Swooping

helicopter parenting

So it’s been a busy week in our lives. We both had kids finishing up high school fall sports and the first academic terms were ending (or getting close to the end). In both households, this proved fertile ground for learning lessons. There may have been an epiphany at Erin’s house that, wow, that zero really DOES bring your grade down. And at Ellen’s house, there may have been a moment to display some grace. But the biggest lessons learned this week weren’t for our kids but for a fellow mom we know.

After a week of torturous tween drama, Big Momma hand-wringing, and tears all around a sticky situation, this mom came clean, “I think I may be a helicopter parent.”

Erin- To which we say, knowing is half the battle (all credit to GI Joe).

Ellen- And get in line, Sister, you’ve got company.

Erin- No one wants to think they are THAT parent, but hovering is not just limited to hiding in the bushes outside of your darling’s classroom.

Ellen – So assuming that most parents don’t even realize they are swooping, let’s shine a spotlight on . . .

The Stealth Helicopter Parent

FLIGHT PATTERN 1

The Perception:

I don’t hover. My middle schooler is allowed to pick out her own clothes and even choose what goes into her lunch.

The Reality:

You are allowing your child to make choices, but are you letting your child make decisions to solve problems?

The Example:

Ellen – I chaperoned for my daughter’s sixth grade overnight environmental camp. My group of girls was lucky enough to have a fabulous educator who not only taught the girls about the Chesapeake Bay, but showed them they had the power to figure things out. On their own.

Right after introductions, she asked the girls to count off. There were about eighteen of them, and they all just shouted out random numbers in unison.

The other chaperones around me twitched and started to jump in. But the educator was prepared for this, because she just held up her hands and firmly declared, “They can do this.”

Before succeeding, they made two more failed attempts, prompting a mother next to me to mutter, “This is ridiculous.”

I replied, “How so?”

“I just don’t have the patience for this. Just count them off and get on with the lesson,” she replied,clearly agitated.

I replied, “This IS the lesson.”

The Problem:

When kids don’t work through tasks and proceed through their failed attempts, they never learn to make simple decisions without checking in.

“Miss Ellen, where should I put my clothes while I take a shower?” Really??

FLIGHT PATTERN 2

The Perception:

I don’t do everything for my kids. My 12 year old has a chore chart. He must check off every box or he doesn’t get his allowance. He earns his gold stars.

The Reality:

Chore charts are wonderful for BUILDING competence, but at some point a child should know what his responsibilities are and be able to follow through when there is no box to be checked and no adult to please.

The Example:

ErinWhen I was the chair of a school fundraising dinner, I had not one, but two, different adults come over to commend me on my fabulous hard-working middle-schooler. What earned him his 5 star review? He refilled the napkins and the silverware BY HIMSELF. WITHOUT being asked or directed by an adult. Many of the other kids just stopped setting places when the napkin and silverware bins were empty.

The Problem:

How far we have fallen that the concept of an 12 year old displaying simple competence warrants such high praise? We need to expect more and stop accepting less. At some point, kids should not be working for gold stars but for the pleasure of a job well-done. Kids should be empowered to analyze what needs to be done, and then DO IT.

FLIGHT PATTERN 3

The Perception:

Well, it’s not like I’m writing my fourth grader’s essays for him.

The Reality:

But how much of a crutch are you for him in his schoolwork? Really?

The Example:

ErinI let my 4th grader fail a science test, because he didn’t bring home his book to study. The big problem was that he didn’t care that he forgot it. When I voiced my concerns, he blew me off with a simple “I’ll be fine, Mom.” Did I drive him back to school to retrieve the book? Did we call a friend to ask for notes? Did we troll the internet for study guides? Nope, and while it was hard to watch his heart break when he showed us the big red “F” on his test, he was rocked by the experience. He has taken the reins and been charting his own course for success ever since.

The Problem:

Caring takes effort. Letting a child experience how crappy failure feels SHOWS them that the effort to succeed is worth it. Elementary school is also a great place to not just learn school lessons, but life lessons as well. The stakes are low here, so failure is a perfectly acceptable option AS LONG AS you LEARN from it.

FLIGHT PATTERN 4

The Defense:

When we have a test, I have to make sure my middle schooler studies. There is nothing wrong with that.

The Reality:

“WE” have a test? Give your child the tools to succeed, but then turn them loose to use them at their discretion.

The Example:

Ellen – Two years ago, my eighth grader decided that despite all she had been taught and shown, she was going to study for her Geometry test by flipping through proofs on the computer instead of working out problems.

I said, “This is not how you have been taught to study. This is not going to work, but I am now going to walk away and let you make your own decision.”

I painfully tore myself away. And she received a D . . . plus. But from that point forward, she started to be a true believer in proper study habits. I now have a high schooler who is succeeding under her own steam with the permanent transcript recording away.

The Problem:

Taking responsibility for your child’s wins and losses takes away two things: 1) The opportunity to learn when she fails and 2) The opportunity to celebrate when she wins. Think of yourself as the water boy instead of the quarterback. Give the field back to your kid.

Thomas Edison famously said, “I have not failed. I’ve just found 10,000 ways that won’t work.” If you’re not going to let them find even ONE way to fail, then your kids are never going to get their light bulb moments.

ErinSo here is OUR big “Ah-Ha moment”. . .

Ellen – When we accept that we are prepping human beings for life on their own and not crafting reflections of ourselves, it makes it a whole lot easier to get out of that pilot seat we may not have even known we were in.

ErinSelf-realization is a beautiful thing and kudos to our friend for being honest and open about herself. For so many of us moms of tweens and teens, it’s time to move on over and out. It’s time to get our fannies over to air traffic control.

Our job isn’t over, but our child’s needs have shifted. They need us to provide safe skies where they can fly on their own, but they have GOT this.

Ellen – So let’s ALL hand over those controls. The best parents work themselves out of a job.

 

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End of School Year Sayonara and Suck It

School’s out for summer! You think we’re more jazzed about the no more pencils, the no more books, or the no more teachers’ dirty looks? None of the above! We’re delirious we don’t have to face that wanker known as School Lunch for 75 days!

End of School Year Farewell to Lunch Packing! Tired of making creative lunches for your kids every day? So are we! Humor | Sisterhood of the Sensible Moms

 

Ellen: Seventy-five days seems so short! Not. Enough. Time.

Erin:  Holy Ziploc! We will be bagging Oreos again before you know it.

Ellen: School lunches are like Groundhog Day and Sisyphus pushing the boulder endlessly up the mountain all rolled up into one.

And yet I willingly pack them for my 12 and 14 year old girls who are perfectly capable of doing it themselves. It’s kind of my love letter to them.

Erin: Complete with a sweet message tucked inside?

Ellen: To my middle schooler and high schooler? Are you mad? Hell hath no fury like a teenager embarrassed. I may have done it once or twice when they were younger, but I wouldn’t be able to handle the scorn now. Besides, let’s get back to the original topic: I can barely get the actual lunches packed in the morning.

Erin: Don’t accuse me of trampling on your token of motherly love, but you could pack them at night. Surely, you have room in your refrigerator for two lunches. It’s not like my household where the lunch equation is 5 kids + 2 adults = a freakin’ fridge in the garage to accommodate them.

lunchboxes

Ellen: Damn, that has to cut into the cost advantage of packing a lunch.

Erin: But we don’t have a choice! The school that  most of my kids go to does not sell lunch regularly. On those occasions it does, I wish it didn’t. Fuster cluck, it’s what’s for lunch.

You see, you have to order hot lunch a month or more in advance. When I have succumbed to the delusion that this is actually helpful and have forked over the small fortune for it, I completely forget which day they are serving the hot lunch and end up sending lunches in anyway.

I’m a lost cause, but why don’t your kids just buy?

Ellen: Breadsticks as an entree. Is this enough said? Apparently the smear of  marinara and microgram of cheese elevate this nasty simple little carbohydrate to full meal status. It’s a shame.

I rarely travel to the land of martyrdom, so it’s kind of hilarious I do it over a Chobani.

Erin: You might douse the tragic soundtrack and sidestep falling on that sword just yet. My kids pack their own lunches, and I don’t think it is any less work. In one of those parenting moments where it sounds better in your head than in actual practice, we have a lunch-making schedule where teams of two kids make all seven lunches for the next day.

Oh, they’ll learn teamwork, we foolishly thought. Oh, they’ll bond with each other over shared chores, we innocently dreamed.

Ellen: I’ve seen the lunch assembly line in action on vacation. Don’t hold your breath for an Erin’s Pearls of Wisdom parenting book deal just yet.

Erin: I am not gonna sugarcoat it for you. It only works 20% of the time. The other 4 days of the week, we cajole, plead, beg, steal, and borrow to get the little darlings to work together cohesively and effectively. Sometimes they work together beautifully, but the lunches end up being a Slim Jim and an apple. Nobody’s gonna starve, but it took you 45 minutes for that?

Other times, we have to pry a child out of his brother’s sleeper hold over a missed  turn to spread the jelly. It is not an exaggeration to say that we have WWF worthy smackdowns over fruit cups either. Apparently, nobody likes the peaches. What the hell is wrong with peaches?

And every time–Every. SINGLE. Time.—one of them is screaming at the top of his lungs,  “Where is your lunch box?” It’s paradise here on the ranch, I tell ya.

Ellen: Sooooooo, packing them myself doesn’t seem so bad. But I do have one last stab at martyrdom. My 14 year old often brings her lunch bag home looking like this:

Disgusting Lunch Bag

No watermark on this photo! Don’t want any credit for this.

Erin: GAH! That is a petri dish! Forget your martyrdom bonfire, burn that thing in effigy.

Ellen: No worries! This is the last known picture of that horror before it went into the trash. At least I don’t have to think about lunches again until the end of August.

Erin: You still have to feed them.

Ellen: Summer time rules –  it’s every girl for herself . . . except when they make me lunch.

Erin: You see the weird inconsistency in that, right?

Ellen: Eh. I guess it all balances out. I’ll save my martyrdom application for something else, like when my teen starts driving.

Erin: Pass that application over now!

-Ellen and Erin

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The Kindergarten Dilemma

 We published this piece last May, but this discussion is still relevant for anyone pondering this big decision. See the update at the end to check out how we all are doing.

 

Erin– Today was one of those days.  A few weeks ago, we had THE TALK. Not THAT ONE, the other one—the one where you meet with the preschool teacher about whether to send the baby to kindergarten.

All I can hear is Joe Strummer singing in my head, “Should he stay or should he go?” 

Ellen– Remember folks, she not only has a visa for Planet Teen, she is the Princess of Preschool Nation. She’s got five kids in her army.

Erin– Goodness, haven’t I been around this tree before? Am I still supposed to be wringing sweat from my hands about preschool and kindergarten? 

Ellen– Shouldn’t it be one of the perks of being a mother of five to get a reprieve from kindergarten being a colossal decision?

I mean, really, you’ve been there and done that 4 times already. Isn’t it the consolation prize that you get to have some things on autopilot? I mean why else would you triple or quadruple your food bill, your electric bill, and your college tuitions? Except for, of course, you also exponentially increase your joy. (For real, Erin’s family is a joy to be around.)

Erin– One of the supposed joys of mothering a brood is the notion that decisions become less fraught because your experience (times 4 or 5) makes you wiser.

So when can I stop and smell the roses? When am I allowed to stop sweating every decision??

Ellen– Apparently never.  No GET OUT OF THIS CONVERSATION FREE card for you.  Doomed to sit in the little chairs yet again.

Erin–  To be perfectly honest, although I love Eddie’s teacher and think she loves him back, I was a little annoyed that I had to take an hour of my time AND schedule it so that Steve could be there too AND this was all ON A SCHOOL NIGHT. Which meant the teens were running the evening routine. Enough said, and GRRRRRR.

Ellen– Shudder.  But why is this decision so angst-inducing? He has done his year in preschool, and he makes the cut-off date for kindergarten, right?

Erin– The main arguments for holding Eddie back are that he is physically small, has a late birthday in the late summer, and the majority of his class cohort has much older birthdays.

These are fair arguments. They are just not compelling ones—at least to me. 

Ellen–  If we are talking about Eddie, specifically, and not in generalizations, they are not very compelling to me either.

Erin– And yet my husband had made me promise to muzzle it and let THE TEACHER talk: “We’ll learn a lot about what to do from what she tells us without our interpretation or input.

The teacher had no concerns about his academic readiness, his social skills, or his developmental readiness, so my main takeaway was that another year could be a gift to him—another year to play and be a little boy. Hmmmm. Who wouldn’t get on board with that?

The only thing I said during our hour was “Thank you, we would like some time to think this over.”

And that’s what I did, except when I said “think it over” what I meant was give myself time to read everything I could find and poll every person I know.

Ellen– I’m impressed you could tamp down that niggling voice whispering, “This is all a big waste of time.”

Erin– Oh, it was niggling me! More than that really, it was saying, “Put this baby to rest. Send THAT baby to kindergarten. We have bigger fish to fry.” But I put on my Good Girl hat and started doing my research.

Ellen– Good Girl hat? I’m thinking you lost those brownie points when you didn’t immediately accept holding him back. So what did the research say?

Erin— At this point, I want to be able to say that the research (the paper kind and the people kind) clarified everything, but what I found was. . . contradictory at best. 

There were some very good reasons for holding him back. One study found that the youngest students were much more likely to be diagnosed with ADHD and  were three times as likely to repeat a grade. Umm, no thank you.

Another study found that the oldest students were most likely to become student leaders. Well, what parent DOESN’T want that? At this point, I started daydreaming about my sweet boy as class president circa Class of 2022! 

But by far the most compelling argument for another year of PreK was what my mother (former preschool teacher, current kindergarten teacher) said: “You cannot underestimate the power of feeling confident and capable in the classroom.” Maybe Momma IS always right.

I was all ready to give him another year, but, of course, I then kept reading.  The arguments against another year of Pre-K pushed me right back on my fence. There were negligible long-term academic benefits.  The differences between the oldest and the youngest are the largest on the first day of kindergarten, but the advantages decrease over time.  Younger students catch up with the oldest by third grade. Even studies that matched each child who delayed entrance with a child of like intelligence who had not delayed entrance did not find any solid proof that this practice made any difference at all.

At this point, my head was spinning. I heard Joe singing, “If I go, it could be trouble. If I stay, it could be double.” What’s a Momma to do?

Ellen, singing: “This indecision’s killing me.”

Erin: THIS Momma remembered her maxim to Have a Little Ellen in her life. I handed this mess over.

Ellen: Are you getting the gist? Erin read pages more of research and she sent them to me. Here is my take-away: despite research indicating there is no real benefit, it is becoming a common practice to “red-shirt” for kindergarten.

Erin: We did not make that up. It’s a term. Oy.

Ellen: There are no large studies with good statistical significance to show that it is beneficial to hold back. It is most often recommended to white males, and quite frankly, there are whiffs that it is recommended so that schools have better scores on their “No Child Left Behind” rankings.

Erin: Wake up! At this point, I’m cutting her off. She could analyze statistics for hours. The links are there if you want to read what I read.  My last call was to my dad, the fair-minded judge and father of 4.  It’s his daily work to evaluate two sides of an issue, balance interests, and come up with good solutions.

He just said, “What did your mother say? Do that.”

Ellen: At this point, I had heard this talk long enough. It was now time to call on The Sisterhood.

They were only too happy to share their thoughts:

SIL with two summer babies: “Was worried, but both kids are doing great.”

SIL with two fall babies who got that valuable extra year: “Kids are happy and doing great.”

Friend with a Summer Birthday Baby and a December birthday Baby: “Hold him back, because you are thinking ahead. If he moves on to kindergarten, he will turn 18 a month before he goes to college. He will be the last in his class to get his driver’s license.”

Ellen– Must interject here. I also have a summer baby, Coco (13), and a December baby, Jellybean (11).  And while it is true that the preschool teacher initiated a mortifying conference to discuss Coco using yips to answer questions instead of words, she is doing fine. Upper tail of the bell curve and all that.

Sisterhood Friend: “I wish I had thought to hold X back. He’s struggling socially in middle school, and he has a late summer birthday.”

Other Sisterhood Friend: “I don’t think you can make a wrong decision, but you will definitely know which one is better.”

Ellen: Eddie is ready for kindergarten. He is articulate. He is one of the few 5 year olds I can have a conversation with that I enjoy. His best buds are moving up. And besides, it will make it much easier to work on the blog.

Erin: Rest assured, no decisions were made based on this blog. You did catch that Ellen took the time to read my research.

Then my sister called to weigh in.  My mother and father had filled her in on our Big Dilemma.

My beloved sister: “Are we seriously even talking about this?”

Erin: OK, so, maybe my sister Karen is the voice in my head. Hmmm. 

So here is the thing I learned that I already knew: all of these kids, including mine, are going to be just fine. The decisions to start preschool or kindergarten and when are important decisions, but they are not deal-breakers. Kids grow where they are planted and nourished and cared for.

 I knew that. I needed to remember that. And not for nothing, the fifth time around this tree made it easier to see that. 

Eddie is going to kindergarten next year. He is curious, inquisitive, and ready to learn. He is still small, will still have a birthday in the late summer, and will still be the youngest in his class. He will still have time to play and be a little boy, but he will also learn to read and write and, if we’re lucky, eat some paste, because that’s what curious, inquisitive little boys do.

He is going not because of any one thing we read or brilliant insight someone shared. He is not going because of any readiness assessments we took (although they did make us feel better—really). He is going, because one night after we put him to bed, Steve and I looked at each other and at the same moment said, “He’s ready.” 

He’s going, because he’s ready, and we both feel that to be true.

I could break into song, but this time it’s not Joe in my head, but the Hallelujah Chorus. No more hand-wringing or sweating this decision. 

Ellen: Get Eddie a bigger backpack, because he’s goin’ to kindergarten!

 As we were working on this piece, 60 Minutes ran a segment about kindergarten redshirting.  Definitely worth a look if you are also in the midst of this decision.

Also, Steve and I found some great resources online to determine academic readiness from sources like ScholasticBabyCenter, and FamilyEducation.com. We took two readiness assessments—one from School Sparks and one from Covenant Home.

Update

Eddie has adjusted to kindergarten well. He is doing everything we hoped he would in kindergarten, except for eating the paste. For some reason, he just won’t oblige me on this one, even though we all know that’s part of what kindergarten is for. Anyway, he is reading, writing, and doing the arithmetic. No cause for worry, right? Well, not so fast.

I had a meeting with his teacher this week, and she has some concerns. Chief among them is that he is the youngest in his class (sound familiar?) and because this particular class skews old, he looks young. Is he still appropriate for his age? Yes. Is he a behavior problem? No. Is she concerned about him academically? Not really. Is he driving her a little crazy? Maybe.

Eddie has a tendency to dig his heels in, especially when there is something he does not want to do. And by dig his heels in, I mean park his cute little butt down and cross his arms in the international gesture of “Ain’t Gonna Happen. No Way. No How”.  But even this is, in her words, still developmentally appropriate for a 5 1/2 year old. We had a pretty good discussion about how I am A-OK with whatever consequences she dreams up for my little sideline-sitter when these occasions arise. Hopefully, this carte-blanche to corral my kid will help her help him toe the line.

Bottom Line for You: If you plow forward with your summer baby and keep him or her with their birth cohort, you might still be talking about this or thinking about this. For AWHILE. This means that if you follow this path, you may be sitting in the little chairs discussing issues a little more often than other parents. Remember what the literature said: it can take until third grade until everything evens out. Or not. All kids are different.

Bottom Line for Me:  We are continuing to move forward despite some bumps in the road. School is a marathon, not a sprint, and we are just starting out. I can wait for Eddie, and I am pretty small so the little chairs aren’t such a bad fit for me anyway. I am happy with his progress, and I am OK with talking to the teacher. I am even OK with talking to my hyper-verbal kid and asking him what he thinks about all of this and what he wants. We are putting one foot in front of the other and moving forward taking one day at a time.

 

 

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