The Schools Are Pathological, Not The Kids

I read this article today, and it claims that 1 in 10 boys at age 10 are taking prescription meds for ADHD.  I was appalled, and yet sadly unsurprised.  My opinion might not be popular, but I do not believe that many children have a disorder, any disorder so severe that they need to be drugged.  Of course, doctors who want financial kickbacks from the drugs they shove on everyone and teachers who want obedient little zombies will tell you that the drugs will bring out the best in your child and make your and your child's life better. 

Photo credit: stoptherobbery.com

Now, I get that some people do have focus problems, and among them there is a subset who struggle so severely that they do, for a period of time or in certain circumstances, require intervention.  Drugs, though, should be an absolute last resort after all other options have been completely exhausted - and I'm not just talking about the patience of parents and teachers, which I believe is frequently the case.

I'm not necessarily blaming the parents and teachers; the Every Kid Gets a Trophy generation is grown up, and things have only gotten worse as they start having children of their own.  Generation Y has been raised on Ritalin and happy pills, while the real problems that exist in families and classrooms are not properly addressed.  Unhappy?  Here's a pill, because you must have depression.  Stressed out?  Here's another pill, because you must have anxiety disorder.  Having trouble concentrating in school?  Obviously you have ADHD, because there's no way it has anything to do with the mundane, repetitive, unfulfilling experience you shuffle through day in and day out with little to no reward for your efforts beyond what all those standardized tests say.

The larger problem is the structure of our society, particularly traditional education and the increasing demands on children with the concurrent deterioration of the real work of childhood, namely play.  Children need free time to grow and develop, but when are they getting it?  Childhood has been pathologized like a disease, while at the same time, schools are removing recess, shortening lunch and free periods, and burdening kids with huge homework loads so that they have no free time to develop who they are as people.  I guarantee that more free time, play time, recess time, and/or physical activity would do a child far more good than any prescription drug.  Big Pharma would disagree, as would the people who want that child's time to be their own.  I guess it works for the system, doesn't it?  Make sure kids' time is always accounted for, keep pouring information that they care little or nothing about into their heads like empty containers, structure their lives to the point they have no say or will, and medicate them into submission when they appear restless, frustrated, bored (termed ADHD, oppositional/defiant, and autistic by allopaths and drug companies).

Parents largely turn to doctors and drugs to help them with their children because the direction of our society.  When I grew up, my dad worked and my mother stayed at home.  Mother was a fast food junkie, but when she wanted to cook and we sat down for family dinners, it was great.  It was close and I felt like part of a family.  The painful regimentation of children's schedules, testing for the sake of scores to bring money into school districts, the degeneration of the family unit, the mountains of homework which effectively obliterates any potential family time and adds stress to the household, the epidemic of bullying, not to even mention the poison in our food, courtesy of Monsanto, are all contributing factors to the problems our children (as a societal whole) face today.

Even as a child, I realized the flaws in education.  Of course, at the time, I was simply a child who was annoyed with school and early mornings.  People do not generally listen to children.  That, in my opinion, is a mistake.  To maintain my sanity, I would ask multiple times per day to go to the restroom because I was so painfully bored in class.  The days were, in my opinion, far too long.  It felt wrong, and I often compared it to a 13-year prison sentence, having to be forced out of bed, day after day, into a place I didn't want to be with my perfectly age-matched peers.  Why were children treated so poorly, I wondered.  I used to look around at my classmates, wondering how they managed to sit there, still and at least feigning the appearance of attention, for that duration.  That was not how I learned.  I suspect, if I were that child in school now, people would recommend Ritalin or some mind-numbing drug to shove me into submission.  I was simply bored, and I don't comprehend how people can't grasp the concept that many children probably are.  That's not a disorder; it's the way the education system is set up that is pathological.

I consider traditional public schools to be brainwashing centers and prisons for children which slowly but surely detach them from their families and drain their will, individuality, and curiosity from them.  Education is not about learning, it's about test scores and money.  Children are miserable, then they get drugged, and then a portion of them do crazy things and people wonder why.  Healthcare has become sick care, where doctors no longer treat the disease, but prescribe pills to mask symptoms and to deal with normal feelings and emotions.  Childhood has become a disease with a number of diagnoses.  People are no longer eccentric, daydreamers, creative, or strong-willed; now they are autistic, ADHD, defiant, and need to be medicated.

The public education system needs serious overhauling.  Will it actually happen?  Not soon enough, if ever.  The trajectory doesn't look good, and I have little hope.

This is why I homeschool.

Recommended reading: Dumbing Us Down: The Hidden Curriculum of Compulsory Schooling by John Taylor Gatto, Thomas Moore

Why K12?

The K12 page featured the following question this morning:

Finish this sentence: The reason our family chose online school for our educational needs is ...

I love answering this question, because we all feel really happy with our experience thus far. Homeschooling my children was something I gave a bit of consideration to from the moment I found out I was expecting, though I wasn't entirely certain it was for us. For starters, with the exception of being an assistant to my Psychology professor during First Year Seminars at Penn State, I basically had no teaching experience at all - and what little I did have wasn't very relatable to teaching young children. I realized that most homeschooling families probably didn't have parents with teaching degrees, either, but I didn't even have the benefit of personally knowing someone who homeschooled. The extent of my experience with this type of learning was based purely in stereotypical viewpoints and jokes made on television shows.

As my daughter neared the end of preschool years, I felt immense trepidation about putting her into the public school system. I'm aware of the growing epidemic of bullying, my children's quirks, and how those issues might not mesh so well. Since education is a very high priority for me, and my children both love to learn, my second greatest fear was that negative school experiences could ruin that for them. But we tried it, both because Reezle had done so well in her mainstream preschool and because she expressed great enthusiasm about going to Kindergarten and riding the big yellow school bus. And sadly, and one might also say predictably, problems emerged before the year was half through. Academically, she excelled. Socially, she did well, but still managed to be a frequent victim of bullying. It got to the point I was afraid every time the phone rang during school hours because I dreaded the principal's voice on the other end telling me which kid hurt my daughter this time and how.

It became evident that homeschooling was due some additional consideration, particularly since also struggled deeply with the massive disconnect fostered by the traditional public school system. I wanted to be more directly involved in my children's education experience, especially since I always had been involved in their learning and know how to work within their different (er, wildly different?) learning styles. Both of my children are advanced learners, and I wanted them to have a rich educational experience. I didn't feel the public schools could provide it adequately, nor did I agree with the fact that gifted programs didn't even begin until grade 3. Furthermore, with my son's various challenges (speech, sensory, autism), I knew there could never be the type of one-on-one interaction that would allow him to thrive the way I knew he was capable of.

I began researching various curricula available to determine if there would be a good fit for our family. K12 kept popping up in my searches, so I decided to look into what they offered. From the start, I was really impressed. The curriculum was exceptional compared to all the others I had looked into. There were options to buy the curriculum or enroll in an online, teacher-guided virtual academy. Right then, I knew this was exactly what we needed; I could provide my children with an excellent curriculum while also have the safety net, so to speak, of lesson plans, experienced teacher contacts, and technical support. The unbelievably awesome bonus? We received over 100 pounds of school books, materials, and supplies...absolutely 100% free. I must have saved a fortune, which freed up money to enrich our curriculum even further.

K12 gives my children the opportunity to work at their own pace and seek out enrichment and curriculum enhancement opportunities or explore in greater depth their own areas of interest. They love learning in the comfort of their own home and we all love the freedom we have to hold "class" anywhere we choose. I no longer have to worry about what kind of peer-perpetrated abuse my child has been subjected to every time the phone rings. If we miss bedtime by an hour and sleep in because of it, we simply work an hour longer. We don't concern ourselves with sick days, because they won't miss anything. And it seems the list of reasons we love this program just keeps growing over time.

So, on this last day of November 2011, I am thankful for having the opportunity to homeschool my children, and for the outstanding curriculum offered through K12. (I also highly recommend it to anyone looking at alternatives to traditional schools!)

Five Months Later

Out of nowhere, five months after my daughter last walked the halls of a bricks and mortar school building, she informs me that one of the two playground monitors at her former school prohibited her from sitting down. My first reaction was what!? "Yeah, sometimes my legs would get tired and my brain would get tired and I just wanted to sit down and think. She would come over and tell me to get up. Sometimes I tried to sit where she couldn't see me, but she was usually right there where the seats were. She never let me sit. Only if we had a headache or something."

While I understand the value of children getting out and getting moving, as mine often do with great enthusiasm, my daughter has a couple of extremely valid reasons for needing a break. One is that she is on the autism spectrum. Though mildly affected, the social and sensory aspects of the diagnosis can become overwhelming in crowds or when the pace is extremely fast. For a child on the autism spectrum, a few short minutes on the playground can be more exhausting than a couple of hours of bike riding or other more solitary, focused play. The second reason is that, like her brother, she also has some issues with mild hypotonia, or low muscle tone. This is a disorder that is not fixed with exercise, and may cause children to tire more easily depending on how and to what extent they are affected.

Some children with her diagnoses will act out with undesirable behaviors, unable to express or even understand their needs in those moments. My daughter understood her social and sensory limitations, opted to take a break to calm down and refocus so she could "calm [her] brain" before going back with her friends, and was prevented from doing this. R did tell me on numerous occasions that she didn't play with certain friends or do the things she wanted on the playground because "everyone just moves too fast". Effectively, the playground monitor was removing the only tool my daughter had to deal with the situation, and she was miserable.

Reezle is slow, methodical, and deliberate in what she does. She contemplates, thinks things through, and is slow to anger or frustration. She has a very good sense of herself and others, as well as how to best soothe herself in overwhelming situations. We have tried our best to help our children find the tools they need to navigate the world successfully. What she wanted was not unreasonable for any child to ask, but especially a first grader dealing with as much "input" as a busy playground (and all of its weather variants) has to offer.

Perhaps I wouldn't have felt my blood boil instantly if there was not already a history with that woman. She stood by as my daughter got pelted in the face with rock snowballs by another student when she was in Kindergarten; Reezle came home with a welt and a scratch about an inch from her eye and no one had done a thing about it. The same child spat on my daughter at lunch, apparently because my daughter just wanted to be friends and the girl did not. Reezle cannot understand why all people can't just be friends and care about one another, and this crushed her. The playground monitors are also the lunch monitors, and again nothing was done. There were other more minor things as well, so I was already not a fan of the woman.

I can say, heartfelt and happily, that removing my children from the bricks-and-mortar public school system was the absolute best parenting decision of my life thus far. There never seems to be a shortage of things to remind me and confirm that. In our homeschool, my children can take a 5-minute recess, or an hour. They can sit when they want, swing, ride a bicycle, or as the seasons change they can make snow angels and build snowmen. Extra layers or fewer, hot cocoa or a cool drink, and a hug from mama when they're done. But I can guarantee no one is going to tell them they can't sit down if they need to.

Five months and I'm still finding reasons to be angry at the way my child was treated. Five months and things are still surfacing that I didn't know. No, there is no way I could have ever tossed my son into that snake pit. And for that matter, I never should have allowed my daughter to be subjected to it, either. There are better ways to socialize, with actual caring supervision, and socialization is about the weakest argument for public schools anyhow.

On a brighter, much more fun note, the number nerd in me is pretty excited about today's date: 11/11/11. Enjoy!

On The State of Things

I don't ask for much for my children from others. I really don't. Aside from his speech therapy, with a therapist I will admit wholeheartedly was amazing, I have provided for all of my son's needs. I taught him sign language when he couldn't speak, created a sensory diet (Google it) to get him from being crippled by something as minor as sleeve length to where he functions well, and, in spite of his autism and having a speech disorder, taught him enough that he is skipping a grade of Math and Language Arts just four weeks into Kindergarten. So, you know, I really don't need much. I got this.

But what would have been nice is if our IEP team, which we've had since G was a baby, would keep us on since (a) we technically are still in the school district because we live here, and (b) it makes sense not to throw a huge wrench into the mix for a situation that is not complicated, and (c) it's really not asking a lot for them to meet with us once each year. But no. Of course not. Because nothing anyone does in this world ever seems to make a bit of sense. Because I am now the enemy of the school district as a homeschooling parent, and they lose money with my children not attending their schools.

As I pore over my interactions with the school district both present and past, I ask myself, what was it I wanted from them that they did not provide? Above and beyond the adherence to their own policies and rules on bullying. Not considering the gym teacher, who lied about my child, then skipped a meeting that was planned and scheduled specifically so she could be there, leaving me no option but to call everyone to reconvene (this was not a popular move on my part). What, exactly, did I hope for?

And then it hit me; it was something I would never have. It was the genuine concern and the family-like atmosphere we had in preschool. It was the desire to have people who truly, honestly cared about my children while my children were in their care for 6+ hours of the day. I know some people might find this absurd, and that's fine. Call me crazy, but I believe that elementary-age - and heck, even older - children need nurturing that goes beyond what is typically offered in school. The fact that those who were most involved with us simply turned their backs in the manner they did proves to me that anything I thought was caring was merely feigned concern proffered up by those who wished nothing more than to appease me so I would not continue to be in their collective faces about their collective failures.

I realize I probably sound angry. I'm not. I'm disappointed. It's more a feeling than something I can put into words. It all makes me sad, suffice it to say that. Sad for my children, sad for the way the world is sometimes, and sad that our world has ventured so far from everything natural and right, replacing it with man-made rules and calling it all good for us as we rapidly deteriorate physically and emotionally as a society.

Language Arts and Science

For Language Arts today, R's assignment included reading aloud. She could choose a passage from a book she enjoys, a poem she memorized, or something she had written herself. She chose to read an entire (short) book and a story she wrote about our cat. I was thoroughly impressed with how well she did! She started with the story she wrote, standing straight and tall, making great eye contact with her audience (me and Little G), speaking clearly and with expression (smiles) and feeling, holding her composition book low so we could see her sweet little face, and she had both of us smiling through the whole thing. Afterward, she read Harry The Dirty Dog with he same great enthusiasm, lots of smiles, and tons of great eye contact.

As for G, the boy starts his mornings by hugging his beloved Math workbook. Now, I've never witnessed that kind of enthusiasm from kids in bricks and mortar schools. One of the things that bothered me most about sending my kids to school was the concern that they would lose the love of learning they both have.

Even our cat has something to say about traditional schools...

Or, okay, maybe she was just yawning instead of acting all ferocious and scary. Sticky is probably the calmest, most tolerant cat on the face of the planet.

R also enjoyed some Science experiments today. We discussed bouncy balls and which would bounce higher and why. She did trials and recorded what happened each time, dropping them from different heights. She also compared how an empty water bottle versus her bear's brush compared in "bounciness". The water bottle won, in case you're wondering. It won big. The brush just sort of hit the floor like a brick.

We also did an experiment to learn whether salt would dissolve more quickly in hot versus cold water. Hot won, of course, and we discussed why and what other things hot water is used for dissolving (dirt on our clothes in the washing machine, messes on the table after dinner, and so forth). The salt-in-water experiment is a fun one, which is more fascinating for kids than you might expect. We did this years ago when she was in preschool, though she doesn't remember. I recommend it! For our next Science lesson, I think we're going to cook up something extra fun...but I'm keeping it a secret for now.

And last, but certainly not least, we have a really fun new game that counts for Phonics and PE. I was having difficulty helping Little G grasp the concept of syllables. He reads well and has mastered spelling and grammar surprisingly well for his age, but syllables were just not getting through because of his speech issues. I never even considered that, but it makes sense. His words are sometimes broken up into extra syllables that don't exist. Another homeschooling parent on one of the groups I belong to suggested that boys sometimes like more full body movements, and so jumping might be better than clapping. What a wonderful suggestion this turned out to be! Little G loves to jump (it was one of his first words, actually), so we tried it. It was magic, let me tell you! Within about 10 jumps, he knew exactly what syllables meant. Clapping did nothing of the sort for him. We did our new jumping game for about 20 minutes and he loved every single smiling jump.

On Monday, I am going to add continents in. We can toss our inflatable globe to each other while saying the continents as we jump and figuring out how many syllables are in each one. Phonics, PE, and History all in one!

Math and Kitty

After a wonderful long weekend with the family, class resumed this morning. Weekends are so much more enjoyable now that my children aren't being shipped off to the public school cookie cutter assembly line, because I no longer have to dread the beginning of the week. I am mommy all the time, the way it should be, instead of having a school system tell me when and/or if I can parent my child between the hours of 9-3.

I apologize. To my readers and to myself. I made this quiet little promise that I wasn't going to be negative about public school. But I've going to have to modify that. I will state my personal feelings about our personal experience from time to time, and much of that has some bitterness involved. I do want to be clear that I am not judging any parent's decision to send their child to public schools. Am I judging the school system in general, though? Yes.

On a lighter and much more fun note, here is Little G and his furry study buddy:

In this photo, G illustrates the only problem I have encountered so far; he wants to do math all. the. time. He would complete that book inside of a week if I let him, I'm fairly certain. We've been using workbooks with the kids for years, and he particularly enjoys the math ones. He burned through the preschool one in less than a week, so we bought him a Kindergarten one. He was through that one in a few days as well, so we bought him a first grade workbook. That one actually lasted a couple of weeks. In the weeks before the start of this academic year, Little G had adopted the math portions of his sister's second grade math workbook and was addicted to Sudoku puzzles. While visiting my grandma several months ago, G asked (and answered) loudly, "What is 1 + 2 + 3 + 4? It's 10!!!" The kid has some sort of little calculator center in his head. It's very cool. And I'm just a little envious.

I asked R today what her favorite subject is. She said Language Arts, Science, and Art. I noticed Math did not make the list. She's very good at it, so I guess that is what counts. I want very much for my children to do well in math, because it will open so many more doors for them. I think R prefers subjects she doesn't have to try at because she doesn't tolerate anything less than perfect from herself. I try to point out that mistakes are part of the learning process, and that taking some calculated risks is critical to getting anywhere in life. But she hesitates, because she just loathes anything she perceives as failure on her part. Sigh. I wish I could get her to lighten up.

But, these being our worst school-related issues, I can't complain. No bullies walk these halls, transportation isn't an issue, and every day is Bring Your Pet to School Day! Still loving it? Yes.

Compulsory

Compulsory school attendance. When I think of traditional public school, and my own experience in it, the word compulsory seems very fitting. From Merriam-Webster:

com·pul·so·ry
1. Required by law or a rule; obligatory.
2. Involving or exercising compulsion; coercive.

Starting my children off in a system where, by nature and name, they would be coerced, required and obligated to learn felt wrong.

Let's examine those words a little further. From Dictionary.com:

com·pul·sive
1. Resulting from or relating to an irresistible urge, esp. one that is against one's conscious wishes: "compulsive eating".
2. (of a person) Acting as a result of such an urge.

co·er·cive: Adjective: Relating to or using force or threats: "coercive measures".

My children have learned a lot already, more than is expected at the time they reached the age of compulsory school attendance. But they were never obligated. They were never coerced. They never obtained information in a compulsive manner. Learning was an enjoyable, mostly child-led activity, which was certainly not ruled with an iron fist and done under threat of penalty of law.

Considering what learning means to me and my husband, versus what learning appears to mean (by its very definition) to our public education system, it is clear that we are not all on the same page. My husband and I value education, if perhaps for different reasons than the education system values it. We believe it is important, even necessary, but we also truly enjoy learning. I will assume it is no coincidence that our children also enjoy learning. So, with this in mind, it is no wonder I cringed at the mere thought of introducing our children to a school system that values conformity, unquestioning obedience, and the "banking concept" of education (Google Paulo Friere or Pedagogy of the Oppressed) over the individuality, curiosity, and hands-on experiential learning we had encouraged in our children.

Knowing that we are a different breed, the husband and I, I figured it was probably for the best to encourage our children to be happy little sheeple who did as they were told with a smile and a skip in their step. And while that worked, at least on the surface and as far as the school system was concerned, for our daughter, two things gnawed at me from the edges of my consciousness. One was that my daughter's endless smiles had become a finite resource as she experienced the bullying that is too often dismissed as a rite of passage for school-age children, and I was so not okay with that. I spent nights awake crying, looking at my precious girl as she slept, wondering how long it would be before it ruined her.

The other issue is that my son is the apple who does not fall far from the tree. I will assume that my daughter got her easy-going, accepting manner from her dad, but my son is all me. What my daughter will accept and let roll off her back, my son will fight with ardent determination until justice is achieved. Nothing else in the world matters until that goal is met. And that, as I am sorely aware, is not a good fit with the public education system. Add to that the fact that my son has a diagnosis of autism and a speech disorder, both of which are exacerbated by stress, and the possible scenarios literally kept me awake at night until my husband and I agreed that homeschooling was the best option.

Public education clearly works for many children. I'm not saying that all parents should immediately remove their children from the public school system and homeschool them. This blog is about my own feelings, my own family, and what I feel works best for us. What I am saying is that we should stop accepting bullying as a rite of passage, examine the definitions of words like compulsory, and realize that children are individuals and act accordingly instead of determinedly trying to pound square pegs into round holes.

School starts Monday. I no longer dread my children starting school. I am enjoying autumn for the first time in years without a knot in my middle about what unpleasantness lurks in the halls of the elementary school and how many calls I will get about bullying incidents, injuries, or other issues. Or worse, the calls I won't get.

I will not harbor feelings of bitterness as months pass by without a single call from the head classroom parent for any of the activities or parties because she has already called her friends to participate. Nor will I have to endure more questions from my children as to why Sally and Joey's mommies are there all the time and I am not. I will be there for all of it. I will be mom, and mom is teacher by default.