I’m sorry I didn’t post for the last two days. I took a couple ‘personal’ days to deal with ‘personal’ things. I’m feeling better than the last two days, but I’m on the tail end of it now, and that makes the difference. Until next month.
The last couple of days, while mother-nature was being harsh on my internal organ, class connect was a breeze. I’m working with my daughter, one-on-one, at all times, and the difference in her efforts are night and day. She’s staying on task, and while it doesn’t take much to distract her, it doesn’t take much to pull her attention back either. Even her attitude is changing towards her school work as her grades improve. She used to sigh heavily with the start of each class, she would rush through her homework, and who cares about failing grades because she didn’t think she could do any better. She was giving up. She felt like I did when I couldn’t grasp grade school math.
Sadly, I figured out why she was giving up. I found myself mentally putting myself in her position; a spot I’m pretty familiar with.
I didn’t think I would enjoy this position as much as I do. I didn’t think I could possibly enjoy going back to middle school though I’m not actually in middle school. Everything they’re teaching is just refreshing my memory, but that’s what’s making it easier to help my daughter. She needs a lot of reminding. Unfortunately, where she needs a lot of reminders, she hates being reminded, yet she’s always reminding us of whatever or about whatever is on her mind at the time.
When I was growing up I wanted to be a journalist. I wanted to work for the newspaper. Then I forgot about writing for a long time. I rediscovered my love for writing, went back to school, and decided I want to be a published author. While I’m writing and working towards publishing my first book, I still never even considered dabbling in Education. It didn’t cross my mind. However, I have always been the parent to complain behind closed-doors about how things are done in schools today compared to what school was like in my day–the 90’s. About two-thirds of the way through completing my undergraduate program for my BA in Arts for Writing and English, I started thinking and then saying I could do a better job with my daughter than the in-school staff could.
As it turns out, I can, I am, and I’m glad.
Okay. I am because here I am, home-schooling my daughter with some help from certified teachers doing their job–teaching–online. My job is to do the rest, and I believe that’s how I should be doing it, because my daughter does struggle, but as her mother, I can see where her struggle is and help it. In-school, teachers can’t see that struggle because they must focus on 30-some students at one time. Not a fair ratio.
I can because I have the patience with my daughter that I have yet to see a teacher display when instructing her during her in-school years. I don’t consider my daughter to be ‘special needs’, but I do think she does fall into that spectrum medically, and that’s okay, but not all people can, or know how to handle certain higher levels of defiance in a child.
I’m glad because I can see the difference in her now and I’m relieved. When she was in-school, the school called me everyday, sometimes two and three times a day. I can’t count the number of times she served detention, both in-school and after-school. The school doesn’t call me anymore because she’s no longer getting into trouble. I’m also glad I’m doing this because to be truthful, she wasn’t safe in school. Not with students in the schools threatening to cause harm to others, school bus crashes, and children abductors stalking neighborhoods. It’s scary.
On a better note, the last couple days gave me time to stop and think about why I do what I’m doing.