Quantcast
Channel: Smart Relationships » Parenting
Viewing all articles
Browse latest Browse all 5

Hiding Behind Homework

0
0

2014-02-28 06.43.35My daughter came into my room the other night. “Mom, I have to write about a time I showed courage. But everything I can think of is either fluff, or really deep. What should I do?” “Go deep,” I advised. She turned with a protest, waved me off, and disappeared.

When she came back in to say goodnight, I asked her what she chose. “I wrote about rescuing Angel,” she said. Angel is a four-footed family member. He came meowing out of a field one day, a wild black dandelion of a kitten. We scooped him up, feebly attempted to give him away  for a couple of days, and adopted him into the family. It may have been an adventure, but it was hardly daunting. We still laugh about his little belly looking like he swallowed a tennis ball after he wolfed down a can of sardines and a saucer of milk.

But my daughter is no stranger to courage. She has had to muster far more of it in her twelve years than I would ever have wished. She has dealt with deep loss, anxiety, and uncertainty about life, at a time when I wish her biggest dilemma was which extra-curricular activity to sign up for. And she has handled herself with grace, maintained high academics, participates in healthy activities, and has wonderful friends. She’s a great kid who’s been through a lot and is wise beyond her years.

“Why did you choose that, when you’ve had so show so much courage?” I inquired. “Because I don’t want the teacher getting all up in my business! She’d probably try to start a support group for me or something,” Hannah responded with her trademark sarcasm. “I understand,” I said. And I do. I support her in choosing the terms of her own engagement. I’m glad she knows how to set her own boundaries. The assignment wasn’t all that important, and the teacher isn’t one she particularly likes.

And yet, I’m sad. I remember Middle School as the time of maximum psychic damage, when we learned to wear a social mask, and the delightful transparency of childhood was replaced by internalized, negative self-talk. And this is how the transformation shows up, isn’t it? At least, those are the fears I project onto my daughter, and I admit it may be nothing more than that. But part of me wants to yell, “Haven’t we gotten better than that yet!?”

My nephew, who is a thoughtful and dedicated teacher, saw the post expressing my ambivalence about the situation, and had this response.

“Playing it safe” is the default norm in our schools, sadly. Risk is often unrewarded and kids are penalized for mistakes instead of being given the opportunity to learn from them (see: real life). There is a pervasive fear of being “wrong”.  I try to break up this horrifying narrative every single day. [If we could] let the kids use their own heads and each others (instead of using only the teacher’s head) then trust would be built, naturally. A public space is everybody’s space.

Sounds like Hannah is not only responding to the teacher but to the larger system that she finds herself in. I’m sure she’s not the only one in the class who will be handing in a watered down “safe” narrative. I feel bad for the teacher who thinks she is getting one thing and is really getting another. Imagine how much more interesting all those stories would be to read if they all contained the truth and emotional depth that the audience is hoping for. Instead, the teacher will be reading a story about a girl saving a cat and will nod and say “Very nice!” and throw an A on there, without realizing how much she has missed out on.”

Yes! The “not realizing how much she has missed out on” is what makes me sad. I can’t help but feel that everyone is missing out. We all remember thinking that we were the only ones whose families had dysfunction, or who felt awkward and out of place, or who weren’t “popular”. Now we know better. But what would be different if schools could create the opportunity to know better in the moment? I remember teachers who were able to do just that. They were everyone’s favorite teachers, the ones that figured out how to connect to these deep soul needs in their students.

What if we were able to ensure that every classroom provided a high EQ environment, and every child was educated to feel fully valued and fully competent in navigating social life with finesse? What if telling the real stories was the norm? I believe ripples would spread into society that would eventually transform our culture. Imagine a nation of relationally mature adults! The stuff of science fiction is increasingly becoming real. Why not the stuff of social fiction too?

I envision that high EQ society would see a spectacular unleashing of our collective IQ. I  imagine our creativity would result in sustainable solutions to the challenges that face us as a species. And what more could we then go on to accomplish, with each person’s potential fully unleashed in the world?

I don’t know. But I’d like to find out.

(For a free lesson on Empathy we developed for use in K-5 classrooms, please visit our “Empathy Project” page.)

 


Viewing all articles
Browse latest Browse all 5

Latest Images

Trending Articles





Latest Images