So, There I was, there I was... in the Congo
Does anybody else remember those ads? I can't even remember precisely what they were for, but they showed a woman on a series of very bad dates. The first was a guy in a business suit who starts instantly talking on his cell phone. The next is this crazy guy sitting in his chair very intensely saying: "There I was, there I was... in the CONGO...". The last image is a guy in a cowboy hat, who tells her: "Honey, you look finer than a new set of snow tires." Shawn and I used to love that ad, and had long, heated discussions of which of those guys we would date if we were this woman. I picked the Congo guy, because, frankly, with the extremely notable exception of Shawn, I'm almost always attracted to the crazy and/or intense. Shawn went for snow tires.
Anyway, that's neither here nor there. My life as a full-time writer has been going okay. I'm still waiting to find my rhythm, if you will, but yesterday I managed to get a lot written on the prequel. Yay, prequel.
Mason, likewise, seems slow to adjusting to kindergarten. Well, that's not entirely accurate. What's happening is that when I ask him about his day, he inevitably tells me that Ms. D. was cranky and the entire class had a time out (or was denied recess and/or "hill time" [which seems to be a second opportunity for the kids to go outside and run around.]}. All I hear about is kids in trouble. I've seen a few art projects, but, like, last year he'd come home singing songs he'd learned or telling me that I wasn't behaving like a peacemaker, like Martin Luther King, Jr. I tell myself that this is only the second week of school and, no doubt, Ms. D. is merely establishing ground rules so that the class can start doing those kinds of things kindergarten classes should do. But, listening to Mason's reports is reminding me about how, during our parent/teacher conference, Ms. D. described her "teaching style" in terms of discplinary measures, not, say, a focus on a particular kind of learning philosophy.
And she very pointedly told us that she would NOT be needing parent volunteers. (Last year I spent about ten or fifteen minutes every Thursday stuffing folders for Mrs. R.) Instead, she said we should feel free to "drop by" any time and visit the class. Functionally, this works to bar parents from the classroom, while appearing to be a very "open door" policy. Most parents, particualarly here in Minnesota, freak out at the idea of "being a burden" and can't imagine going into a class without express permission and/or something useful to do/contribute.
Unfortunately for Ms. D., I'm not FROM around here. So I told her in an email that I'd be stopping by for all of Friday morning. If she had something useful for me to do, great. If not, I'd just hang around. Chop-chop-chop-chop... why, yes, that IS the sound of a helicopter parent you hear.
Honestly, I try not to be a helicopter parent (one who hovers, like a helicopter, over their child) because I think it breeds unhealthy codependence, and that kids need to learn how to fend for themselves. However, it's also shown that an active interest in one's child's education is a good thing. So, I'm trying to walk the line. I wouldn't feel so compelled to "drop by" if I had a better sense that something besides discpline was happening in Mason's class.
Anyway, I need a bath after my workout, need to clean up the house, and get writing. I'm off to do that.
Anyway, that's neither here nor there. My life as a full-time writer has been going okay. I'm still waiting to find my rhythm, if you will, but yesterday I managed to get a lot written on the prequel. Yay, prequel.
Mason, likewise, seems slow to adjusting to kindergarten. Well, that's not entirely accurate. What's happening is that when I ask him about his day, he inevitably tells me that Ms. D. was cranky and the entire class had a time out (or was denied recess and/or "hill time" [which seems to be a second opportunity for the kids to go outside and run around.]}. All I hear about is kids in trouble. I've seen a few art projects, but, like, last year he'd come home singing songs he'd learned or telling me that I wasn't behaving like a peacemaker, like Martin Luther King, Jr. I tell myself that this is only the second week of school and, no doubt, Ms. D. is merely establishing ground rules so that the class can start doing those kinds of things kindergarten classes should do. But, listening to Mason's reports is reminding me about how, during our parent/teacher conference, Ms. D. described her "teaching style" in terms of discplinary measures, not, say, a focus on a particular kind of learning philosophy.
And she very pointedly told us that she would NOT be needing parent volunteers. (Last year I spent about ten or fifteen minutes every Thursday stuffing folders for Mrs. R.) Instead, she said we should feel free to "drop by" any time and visit the class. Functionally, this works to bar parents from the classroom, while appearing to be a very "open door" policy. Most parents, particualarly here in Minnesota, freak out at the idea of "being a burden" and can't imagine going into a class without express permission and/or something useful to do/contribute.
Unfortunately for Ms. D., I'm not FROM around here. So I told her in an email that I'd be stopping by for all of Friday morning. If she had something useful for me to do, great. If not, I'd just hang around. Chop-chop-chop-chop... why, yes, that IS the sound of a helicopter parent you hear.
Honestly, I try not to be a helicopter parent (one who hovers, like a helicopter, over their child) because I think it breeds unhealthy codependence, and that kids need to learn how to fend for themselves. However, it's also shown that an active interest in one's child's education is a good thing. So, I'm trying to walk the line. I wouldn't feel so compelled to "drop by" if I had a better sense that something besides discpline was happening in Mason's class.
Anyway, I need a bath after my workout, need to clean up the house, and get writing. I'm off to do that.