I don't volunteer much at the elementary school. What I have to offer the school is this: I send kids to school who have had an adult at home to check homework, feed them and send them to bed on time. They have had breakfast and they are prepared with their backpacks, lunches and work. They are free from emotional turmoil, for the most part, because the adults in their lives have tried to place them in a secure, predictable environment.
At the end of the day, someone has been preparing for their arrival. There is a plan for them to follow after school, which includes education in music, reading, tutoring for school, dance, sports, conversation, teaching, cooking, organizing, cleaning, helping others and child care. All of us work on that agenda from 2:30, when the older kids get out of school, until 10:00 at night and much later for some of us. And then I begin preparing for the next day.
So pardon me if I don't want to come and be the 7th parent at the Christmas Around the World party, standing around making sure the students don't hurt themselves while frosting cookies. And may I point out that when I teach ballet, I do it by myself. The parents' job is to prepare the students for class, and then turn them over to the professional teacher who is in charge of teaching them the skills.
Which brings me to my next point: When I send my children to school, or to their lessons, I would like them to be taught by a teacher. A teacher is someone who not only has training in the subject, but also has training in the art of teaching. To know something is entirely different than knowing how to teach. If I wanted to be part of a co-op where all the parents pitch in toward the kids' education, then I would be in a different school environment. In my perfect world, my kids would go to elementary school and be under the tutelage of a teacher, a mentor who has a vested interest in their well-being and their education.
I remember my third grade year fondly. I was part of a "family," Mrs. Manning's class. We were hers and she was ours, and she taught us very carefully, fully aware of our developmental needs, our strengths and weaknesses, and our emotional development. One of her pupils lost her mother that year. She still has the t-shirt that Mrs. Manning brought to her home to comfort her. Every year, when I send Mrs. Manning a Christmas card, she calls me to thank me, and we have a nice chat. Ellen Mae Manning is a teacher in the truest sense.
I know it takes a village. In that village, I am the mother. Then, when I am teaching, I am the teacher. Should we all think about wearing our hats more carefully?
At the end of the day, someone has been preparing for their arrival. There is a plan for them to follow after school, which includes education in music, reading, tutoring for school, dance, sports, conversation, teaching, cooking, organizing, cleaning, helping others and child care. All of us work on that agenda from 2:30, when the older kids get out of school, until 10:00 at night and much later for some of us. And then I begin preparing for the next day.
So pardon me if I don't want to come and be the 7th parent at the Christmas Around the World party, standing around making sure the students don't hurt themselves while frosting cookies. And may I point out that when I teach ballet, I do it by myself. The parents' job is to prepare the students for class, and then turn them over to the professional teacher who is in charge of teaching them the skills.
Which brings me to my next point: When I send my children to school, or to their lessons, I would like them to be taught by a teacher. A teacher is someone who not only has training in the subject, but also has training in the art of teaching. To know something is entirely different than knowing how to teach. If I wanted to be part of a co-op where all the parents pitch in toward the kids' education, then I would be in a different school environment. In my perfect world, my kids would go to elementary school and be under the tutelage of a teacher, a mentor who has a vested interest in their well-being and their education.
I remember my third grade year fondly. I was part of a "family," Mrs. Manning's class. We were hers and she was ours, and she taught us very carefully, fully aware of our developmental needs, our strengths and weaknesses, and our emotional development. One of her pupils lost her mother that year. She still has the t-shirt that Mrs. Manning brought to her home to comfort her. Every year, when I send Mrs. Manning a Christmas card, she calls me to thank me, and we have a nice chat. Ellen Mae Manning is a teacher in the truest sense.
I know it takes a village. In that village, I am the mother. Then, when I am teaching, I am the teacher. Should we all think about wearing our hats more carefully?
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