Student Led Parent Conferences

Friday was the special day for conferences at The American Montessori School.  I was supposed to put them on the bus as usual, and show up around 11... and I was kind of confused about what that meant.  Apparently it meant it was Student Led Parent-Student Conferences -- how's that for a mouthful?

A little background: the school is very small, with only about 22 students from around 3 years old through first grade, in four classes.  Two of the teachers are a married couple who founded the school, and it is run in their house.  The school is only a few years old, and they are trying to expand to a much larger facility, but right now the small size is a major bonus for me as a parent.  I appreciate getting to interact with the teachers, fewer kids is much less overwhelming for my children, and they get lots of individual attention.  However, it's a striking example of Ugandan use of space vs. what American's would "need."  The whole school is run in one small front room, with bookcases that slightly divide it into two spaces that are each maybe 10 or 12 feet square, the larger front porch, a toilet room, bath-and-sink room, and kitchen.  They also use the yard, which has a natural divide of a small hill, and around the size of a typical suburban backyard.  The equipment comprises a handbuilt play structure with two swings and a climbing rope net, a sandbox, some painted tires half-sunk in the dirt, and a rusty old mini trampoline with three of its legs missing.

I didn't manage to get there until 11:30, and I was still almost the first parent to arrive... and the lead teacher wasn't even back with the materials!  He rented tables to make different stations, but the shop decided not to open very promptly on Friday morning, so he wasn't able to pick up the tables until the event was supposedly underway.  We're on Africa-time!  So Buttercup and I sat on the couches in the covered patio area, and watched the children line up and be a train around the grounds, and then play Mr. Lion, Mr. Lion on the lawn.  Buttercup was eager to join in, but I kept her near me, and we enjoyed watching how the children did.  They enjoyed playing the game, but I could see why Emerson is not excited about going to school by watching his tired face.  The teacher probably spent 10 or 15 minutes getting the children properly organized in a line to move, and then once they finally got going she allowed someone to change their mind about wearing shoes, which meant that half the kids suddenly had to run around and throw their shoes in a pile or move the pile.  The children who had lined up in the "train" properly from the beginning (including both of mine) just stood there looking bored, or started to get poked by their neighbors, which of course meant they had to get in arguments.

After Mr Lion, the children came back and all sat around the sandbox with their feet inside, where they sang songs and eventually the teacher passed out water.  Again, there was a lot of time spent scolding the children and reminding them how to sit and whether to spread out or squash together, while half the children sat there vacantly.  Perhaps they do better in smaller groups when all four teachers are working with the children, but this also had the air of a regular routine that everyone expected.

By that time, the tables were finally set up, and Hibiscus was called over to start my conference.  There were only about three parents there, and a couple more drifted in over the course of the day.  As far as I could tell, most students never had a parent come by to listen to their accomplishments.  It is a huge and striking difference from participating in American schools, where parents will miss work to attend special school events, and at the very worst send a grandparent or babysitter.  This is a special and expensive school attended only by the (upper) middle class, and yet it still seems like a steep uphill battle to get parents to actually be involved in any way!  The conference notes for the parents described the different stations, and had lots of scaffolding help for the parents, such as "use words like 'good try!' and 'nice work!'." I will note that one of the parents there was a father, and all of the parents who attended did seem to be trying hard to be positive and support their children, and genuinely proud of them.

There were three stations for each class: literacy, numeracy, and science.  You can see what is important in Ugandan schooling -- parents want to know their kids are mastering the basics!  There was no information whatsoever about how they were doing socially, or if they could follow directions or be creative.  I think the school does care about those things, and I often talk with the teacher at pick-up time about these issues, but it seemed like they didn't expect parents to be interested.  Since they couldn't even get most of the parents to show up, I can understand why!

Each station had a table set up, with some different activities.  For kindergarten literacy, Hibiscus was supposed to write her first and last name for me, then move on and write small and capital letters when I requested them in different orders, then sound out and read short words that were in cards in a box.  She wrote her American first name beautifully, and then started thinking about our family name, which she has only written a few times.  But my children are not really "sit still and do the activity as directed" kind of kids; they have to keep thinking of something more!  In this case, Hibiscus decided she needed to write "Hibiscus." As the next activity will prove, her spelling skills are way way below the level of a strange word like that, which she still pronounces "Kah-biscuits"!  She didn't want me to tell her, and we spent a few minutes stalling while I tried to convince her how beautiful she had already written the words, and maybe we didn't need to spend all day writing a nickname.  Finally we managed to move on.  When I selected words from the box, she proudly and successfully managed to sound out "at" but could not manage "hat."  She made all the sounds correctly, but struggled to blend them together.  When I compared it to the "at" she had just finished, that confused her; apparently they don't do much rhyming.  Eventually we moved on to writing letters.  At this activity she shone, and her handwriting has become very neat and nicely small.  I do not fail to forget that she has only had this name for a couple of months, and that he is only learning to speak English, let alone write it.

We moved on to numeracy.  She was supposed to point to numbers on a chart when I said a number, between 1 and 100.  She could manage 1-20 fine, but she still hasn't figured out that there is a system to the rest of them, and just counted from "1" to find whatever I named.  Then she was supposed to put marbles (called "glass balls") in my hand to demonstrate her understanding of number values, and she did a great job at this, although sometimes she rushed and slipped an extra ball in!  Then the children are working at addition by going backwards, when they solve a sentence like "6= __+___."  I think this is a great idea for really learning about how numbers fits together, and Hibiscus did a good job when we used the marbles.  She enjoyed making one column full of 4's, by always having a 4 be the second half of her number sentence.

The science table was simply a pile of their drawings, and Hibiscus was supposed to explain her drawing to me.  It sounds like they do a good job of exploratory, hands-on science, although I never would have deduced it by simply listening to Hibiscus's wandering explanation about zebras and apple trees!

And that was Hibiscus's conference!  I gave her praise and kisses, and she glowed.

I had tried to let Buttercup run around, but "around" became the operative word, as she tried to get into everything and pull all the displays down.  Writing with pencils kept her happy for a little while, but then she was needing too much supervision, and I decided to wrap her on my back again.  The older children get very little focused one-on-one parental attention at this point, and I really wanted to treat this like their own special day. So Buttercup went up, and bounced up and down and sang and grabbed everything within reach, and hit me in the head with books, and when I sat on the couch she got her legs under her and jumped around, which totally ruined the wrap job, but still kept herphysically  contained.  There was plenty for her to watch, and I could pretend to almost ignore her, enough at least for the conference-giver to feel listened to!

Then Hibiscus went back into the kitchen, where I guess they were singing songs, and Emerson came out for his conference.  Emerson notes seriously that he is "in two classes," since he goes to first grade for reading.  So we started with reading, and the first activity was to take full sentences of dictation.  The Montessorians maybe have eliminated most of the "copy work" that defines most Ugandan schools, but they still can't seem to get their minds off the stilted learning-to-read vocabulary, and the sentences were full of boys and girls with boxes and balls and trees -- none of which are very logical early phonics words!  However, I was amazed how excited Emerson was to be taking dictation, and how neatly and competently he wrote.  Fine motor and writing skills have always been his great weakness, and his whole life his writing/drawing skills have lagged far behind his comprehension -- until now, apparently!

He was also supposed to read three pages of a book for me.  Emerson is always worried about failure, and would rather not try than attempt something he doesn't feel confident about, so he sorted through the pile of books anxiously, looking for something he already "knew."  Then he read me a whole story.  Emerson has become an amazing reader in the last few weeks!  He reads through many of the children's books we have around, and starts in reading when he wants to know something.  Yesterday he read the entire "Madeline" compilation to Hibiscus -- all six books in a row!  So I was not surprised to hear him read, but it was nice to be able to sit next to him and really concentrate on what he was doing.  Poor kids, we don't get much concentration lately!

At the math table, Emerson breezed through the first activities, so for the addition sentences I added a digit and made the 7 into a 17.  He was fascinated figuring out how to create the bigger numbers, using our mutual fingers.  Then he told me to change the other numbers, too, to make the game more fun.  I saw the teacher giving us some weird looks; I don't know if he disapproved of me changing the activity or had no idea that Emerson could mentally play with double-digit numbers!  I just see no reason for kids to repeat doing things that are not an interesting challenge for them.

After science, Emerson wanted to keep going, so we went back and did more dictation, and then read a new books.  This time, a younger child was interested in one particular book, so Emerson decided to read that one although he didn't "know" it yet.  I was proud of how he allowed his desire to hear the story triumph over his fear of making a mistake!


After that, I was told that I could go home and pick the kids up at the regular time, but I didn't much care for the idea of walking home and then turning around to pick them up again!  So I was invited to eat lunch with the children, and that lunch was almost ready.... which probably involved sitting around very hungrily for half an hour or so!  But the children were obviously very excited and honored to have me eat with them.

Emerson became very distressed, because some of the parents were carrying bags with presents to congratulate their children, and I had not brought any presents.  Something later at home was not acceptable!  So on the way out, we stopped at a nearby little grocery stand, and I got each child a little treat.  They were talking about lollipops, but then Hibiscus wanted a chocolate coin instead, and I was on the verge of getting Buttercup a lollipop before I realized what a terrible idea a lollipop on my back would be! So she got some smartie-like things that needed to be eaten all at once and had no smearing potential whatsoever!  Of course, Emerson's lollipop was going strong long after the girls had finished their treats, and I could see the wheels turning in Hibiscus's head as she contemplated short-term vs long-term treat value!

Contemplating long-term (or rather, something besides immediate) value is really one of the skills I want Hibiscus to be working on, and I am not really that worried about math and blending letters and things.  I want her to learn to not leave her sweater out on the grass and scuff up her shoes, so they are not ruined for later.  So I'm glad that the teachers say things like "she still needs some more positive support in this area, " which is more pleasant than what *I* can manage when she ruins her things!  And I am pleased to arrive after school and see Hibiscus very focused on learning to ride a bike, and Emerson in the sandbox busily making plans with a couple of other boys, making positive friendships.

But I am proud of the skills that they are learning too, and I was proud of how happy they were to show them off to me!

Some Thoughts on Beginning School

Some Thought on the First Day of School

Whew!!!  I'm so relieved and happy to put Hibiscus and Emerson on the bus to school, and walk back down the lane with just one little Buttercup on my back!

We found a school that I actually feel pretty good about, The American Montessori School.  It's not very American and only kind of Montessori, but at least they are creative beyond rote-based learning, repetition, copy work, and beatings for misbehavior in a classroom of 30 children.  Daddy and I had this idea of wanting our kids to experience a different kind of education, and get to know neighborhood children, but the more I have watched this the more uncomfortable I felt about sending our sensitive, volatile, dramatic kids to a school like that.  Best of all, this school has 20 students and four teachers.  I think some individual attention is a need right now.  Oh, and a high wall around the perimeter.  Given that both children declare that they are going to run away, that's a big bonus!

They have been DREADING going to school.  I have literally had hours of tears on the subject, as well as threats and violence.  I tell them they don't have to worry about it, because Mama and Daddy have already made the decision for them.  And Mama and Daddy don't have to worry about it, because formal schooling is so important we would not be able to present ourselves as proper foster parents without sending our kids to school.  So off they go.

So sending them to school is not something I've waffled about, but I do feel a little bad about being so darn HAPPY to see them go.  Describing the tears at the bus stop, a relative asked me "and did Mama have a few tears too?"  Um, no.  Not at all.  

(First of all, getting backpacks packed, bodies dressed, everyone down the road, and then trying to stuff them into a car when they don't want to go, is not the kind of thing to make me sentimental.  Actually, bluntly, I don't think I'm very sentimental at all.)

I'm a home-schooling type of person, or at least I want to think of myself that way.  I absolutely love teaching, and I love even more watching children learn.  I have so many ideas for helping children understand, but even more, I like watching them explore and figure things out.  I know that I can't practically homeschool right now, but if that's really the type of person I am, shouldn't I be disappointed to have two of my (still very young) children gone for most of the day, five days a week?  If I really am loving being a mama of three, why would I want to be free of two of them?

I've been thinking about this.  First of all, I'm not HOME.  At home, we have so many options and choices to keep busy in a productive way.  If we're feeling traditional-school-y and need to learn to read, we can buy reading materials and go to the library and set up a pretend store and count out the money, and work our way through excellent and carefully selected books.  If we're feeling Waldorf-ian, they can follow me out into the garden and help me bake bread and make yogurt and train the dogs, and I can send them into the field or the woods to see what they can see and collect and discuss.  If we were more Montessori-an, I could pull out different boxes of manipulatives or browse the stores or on-line to find just the right thing, and we could do a different amazing craft project every day to explore color and texture and nature.  When they are feeling social, they could choose a gymnastics class or swimming or art or scouting.  When they are feeling wild, those activities would get their wiggles out, and we could walk to the park every day, or just let them loose in the woods.  If we wanted to be un-school-y, they could explore the world and we could go to the library to find books to answer their questions and visit farms and zoos and science museums and art museums or whatever caught their fancy, and we could watch the ocean and drive to the desert to read our books about the desert and play with the old settlers' tools.

And here, what can we do?  They can either come with me to run errands (where children are inevitably expected to behave normally, which is a little beyond my brood), or they can play around the apartment.  Our selection of toys is not bad, books are reasonable (but if they really like a subject we can't find another book about it), but the outside is pretty boring.  And outside is where children thrive!  Thank goodness we have a yard, but not only is there not anything in the way of bicycles or sand boxes, it is so carefully groomed that there is not even much in the way of sticks or stones or dirt or places to hide or leaves to collect or anything.  And nothing to plant, and no animals. Animals and children provide a great deal of mutual joy and education.  

There are no parks.  There are some fields, mostly pounded down to the dirt, and either connected to a school and/or full of boys playing soccer.  Still nothing to do, and if I let my little non-conformists near a bunch of soccer players, there would be a lot of tears in no time.

We can get to one swimming pool via public transportation, but it's an expensive outing.  Every other place I've heard of for children we would have to drive to, which means hiring a car for the day.  The only playground-type equipment are at malls, which is not exactly being out in nature, or easy to access.  Most of them have a charge to enter, which makes it not worthwhile for a short time.

And, the children's areas seem to be packed with brightly colored equipment, children all over the place, and maybe even loud music pounding through, or a giant screen with older boys playing flashing video games. If you know about sensory procession issues, you might have heard about "seeker" behavior, which means someone who craves action, noise, speed, lights -- and they can't process any of it, and they go absolutely bananas.  Yes, that would be my children.  

So, there is nothing for children to DO.  I don't think children need to be doing all the time, and I want them to learn to have downtime and entertain themselves.  But kids tend to do that better when there is some contrast.  They have had a couple really good days around the house, when they have moved naturally and happily from one creative game to another, playing "house" and piling up baskets and eating their lunch outside and calling each other "mommy" and "daddy" and "baby," and then wanting to do some art together and reading books to each other.  They have their rhythm, and when they're in it, I just try not to interrupt.  But I notice those days come after we have been busy for a few days.  After another day of not-much, they start to pick fights with each other, and their play turns into ripping-apart-the-shrubbery and throwing-everything-in-the-living-room-to-the-other-side-of-the-living-room.  

And then, there is Buttercup.  Buttercup needs some one-on-one time.  Okay, they all need it, but right now, Buttercup needs it the most.  I think it's not so much because she's the littlest, although little ones always needs more attention, but just because she is naturally quiet and mild, and the others are naturally.... I think "hurricane" would be a good word, although other types of natural forces would also work!  They are wonderful, dynamic, creative, passionate personalities, but Hibiscus and Emerson are always intense and needy.  I think at any age, and I think even if she had had a normal background, Buttercup would just dance to a different drummer -- or maybe a flute player.

Right now, she needs to bond with me, and she needs to realize that she is valuable and her needs can be fulfilled.  She just can't do that with two loud and dramatic siblings always on center stage.  The screaming really bothers her.  She gets kicked over when someone is mad, and left by herself in the middle of the yard when they get busy playing.

This is only our third day together, and already it has been so neat to really start to see Buttercup being Buttercup.  She's learning to play something she wants to play.  She's learning to not always be looking for another child to follow around.  She's learning she can ask me for things and get them.  She can take all the time she wants eating and say "you see yogurt, yum yum" for every single bite.  She can think about what she wants to say and have a chance to say it. She can speak in her little chirpy voice and be heard.  She can spend hours and hours either on my lap or holding my hand or on my back or working on "squishing" the laundry in the tub next to me.  She can neatly wipe all the bits of yogurt of her chin and the smudge on her arm, without having someone else upend a glass of water all over her.  She can throw a normal two-year-old fit about not getting another cookie, and solve it herself thirty seconds later by finding a balloon, without having someone else throw an even bigger fit about how mean mama is and try to grab the cookies to give Buttercup more, but end up throwing them across the room and be sent to a "sit" where she screams for half an hour, and meanwhile someone else starts throwing his own fit about his cookie not being as big as someone else's cookie, and why won't you listen to me describe the the cookie factory I'm going to build?

 It's a wonderful gift to have busy and loving siblings, and Buttercup absolutely loves it and loves them and loves being the local baby, but everyone needs a chance to be themselves, too.  And every child really, really needs a special relationship with their mother.  I think that's why babies are so very needy, so they build it; we have to start in a different place.  

I hope one day, we'll be able to balance all those needs.  I hope one day, I'll be able to be Buttercup's mama without being forced to send the other kids away for the whole day.  (Not that we might not choose to send them to school for other valuable reasons, but I hate the only-way-to-manage feeling.)  I hope one day, I'll be able to fill the kids' need to explore with their need for safe and quiet space.  I hope one day, they're able to control their "seeker" behavior enough to be safe in a busy environment.  

But right now, we're living THIS one day at a time, not living for the distant one day.  So today, I read a bunch of books while Buttercup snuggled on my lap, and then she protested going up on my back but fell asleep right away, and I didn't have to worry about someone screaming or cannon-balling me and waking her up, and then she told me she was hungry.  And when she finishes her yogurt and bananas, we're going to take a walk and bring those big kids home.  And they've been busy singing new songs and making new friends and playing in the sand box, and doing something.

So off we go!