What my kids know

It was a professional day at Tim and Holly’s school yesterday, which is the perfect opportunity to visit the sites that get too crowded during normal school vacation days. I remembered that last time we drove to Salem to visit the Peabody Essex Museum, Holly saw a sign for the Witch Museum and asked if we could go, so earlier this week I suggested that might be a good destination for the day off from school. Tim agreed that it sounded like a decent enough plan to him, even if he’d rather go bowling. “Bowling next time,” I told them. “Let’s do something a little more educational today.”

It wasn’t until we were on our way there that I realized my eight-year-old’s expectations might be a little bit far from reality. In my joy over the fact that both kids were actually interested in visiting a) any museum at all and b) even better, the same museum, I had neglected to think about whether Holly had any concept of what the Witch Museum actually was. “It’s not about witches like Halloween witches,” I told her somewhat cautiously as we reached the highway. I suspected she was imagining an array of women in Walmart Halloween costumes surrounded by clouds of vapor from cauldrons of dry ice, possibly even handing out candy.

“I know that, Mom,” she replied with a touch of condescension. “It’s about the girls who lived in Salem in the 1600s and started acting strangely, just because girls sometimes do, and then everyone accused them of being witches and most of them ended up being killed for the way they acted. And the strangest part of it was that one of the girls who started it was actually the daughter of a minister. Her name was Betty.”

That certainly silenced me for a long moment. “How did you know all that?” I finally asked.

“We have a book about it at school,” she said.

In truth, the kids learn all sorts of things at school these days that make me suspect they are now better-educated than I am. In social studies, Tim’s class recently compared dictatorships; as we watched coverage of the riots in Egypt last month, he said to me, “The unfortunate thing is that the overthrow of a dictatorship is usually followed by a civil war.” I knew that too, I told myself, and surely I could have reasoned that out if I’d thought about it. I just hadn’t given it the level of contemplation he had.

I tell myself it’s just that they have more time to study specific topics than I do. Tim’s social studies class meets five times a week; many of those hours are devoted to current events. If I had the chance to discuss current events with a knowledgeable professional for an hour a day, five days a week, I’d have insights as fully formed as Tim’s, I tell myself. And Holly’s class devotes time every day to free reading, which is when she picked up the book about the Salem witch trials. I too learn all kinds of things during those phases in my life when I can devote time every day to reading whatever I want, I remind myself.

But really, I’m terribly impressed by the breadth of their curriculum. When they were very young, my approximate goal was to teach them all that I knew. Now it seems that they’ve far surpassed that. The audiovisual presentation at the Witch Museum outlined the story of the Salem Witch Trials just as Holly had told it, including the girl named Betty whose father was the Reverend Samuel Parris. I’d remembered the story, of course, but not that particular part of it.

Someday they’ll forget some of what they know also, and their interests and areas of study will become more narrowly focused as they enter careers or home in on specific disciplines. I’m just glad they’re learning so much now. And I’m glad that most of the time they’re willing to share their knowledge with me. Because I seem to become more aware every day of just how much I’ve forgotten.

The "hidden curriculum": What my kids learn in the classroom beyond the academic

On Parents’ Night last month, Holly’s teacher brought up a subtle point that I had never heard a teacher address before when he briefly touched on the subject of how public school is different from home-schooling. Beyond the obvious facts that public school follows a more prescribed curriculum than homeschooling usually does and proceeds at a more standardized pace, he used the term “hidden curriculum” to describe the skills kids develop when they are compelled to learn in a context of 19 other kids.

According to my notes, the “hidden curriculum” he referred to includes the following skills:

* Learning to question peers

* Developing respect for other people’s learning styles

* Thinking before speaking

* Learning to compromise

In a way, none of this is surprising. Those of us who enthusiastically support public education (and I concede that in a town like Carlisle that’s easy to do; we spend a lot of money on our schools and the results are magnificent in terms of teachers, resources and curriculum) are already convinced of the value of learning in a non-selective group of twenty or more kids. But the way Holly’s teacher laid it out was particularly eye-opening to me.

For example, “developing respect for other people’s learning styles.” In the simplest sense, this may mean realizing some kids learn better when they read instructions to themselves and some when they hear instructions read aloud. But Holly is already becoming more sensitive to the nuances of how other children learn – and what the ramifications of a variety of learning styles can be. She has had a classmate for several years who can be very high-energy and not infrequently ends up in the principal’s office as a result. In past years, she would just shrug when telling me stories about this classmate, as if his behavior was a pure mystery to her, but a few weeks ago she said to me, “I think it’s just that he’s so smart, and he gets bored waiting for everyone else to understand what he’s already figured out, so he gets kind of wild while he’s waiting.” Not a bad assessment for an eight-year-old.

"Thinking before speaking"? That may be a challenge for young children, but it's unavoidable in a setting in which the odds are that 19 times out of 20, when you have something to say, it's someone else's turn to talk.

“Learning to compromise” is another one that seems to happen all the time in the public school setting: when they work in small groups on a project or a challenge; when the class votes on a reward such as extra recess versus extra reading time; on the playground. Just yesterday, Holly told me each child in her class was asked to write down his or her top four choices for a role in the Thanksgiving play. Gracefully accepting the teacher’s decision will require plenty of compromise on the kids’ parts. (For the record, Holly told me her choices for roles were child, turkey, Native American and grandfather, in that order. I guess I’d better hold off on costume-making for now.)

Both Tim and Holly’s teachers throughout the years have done a great job at reinforcing all the skills Holly’s teacher outlined as the “hidden curriculum.” Just as with academics, these are skills that will last them all the way through school and into whatever follows: professional environments, teams, even family life. I’m still working on those skills myself. But seeing them laid out so clearly gave me a new appreciation for their importance.

First day of school

The first day of school was wonderfully satisfying for all of us. I wish I could replay every day this year the scene in which Tim told me all his news. He was exuberant, which is so unlike him. He was gasping and his tongue was tripping over the words as he tried to tell me all the highlights of fifth grade so far -- most of which simply seem to involve the kids having an increase in autonomy and responsibility.

I wish the enthusiasm and sense of novelty he was experiencing today could never wear off -- he is just so thrilled about being a fifth grader, which in Carlisle means more variety in teachers, classrooms and classmates than the elementary grades have, as well as the option of "homework club" after school and the freedom to leave campus at the end of the day under their own steam. As far as Tim is concerned, the most exciting part of the whole curriculum is the daily planner each student received, in which there are spaces for them to record their homework assignments, due dates, completed dates, etc. To see him brimming with excitement, his pale face beaming and his dark eyes flashing, just delights me to no end. Over a daily planner, no less. As Rick said, "Imagine when he gets his first PDA!"

Meanwhile, Holly kept interrupting him to interject tales of her first day of second grade, most of which involved how much she adores her new teacher and how happy she was to see her two first grade teachers during the day. I feel so fortunate that they are both happy in school. Yesterday I was replete with anxieties all day, anxieties about a new school year, ranging in magnitude from whether Holly's new book bag would be too heavy for her (it's not) to the potential for violence on campus to the likelihood that I would forget to pack a snack or lunch money to the daily challenge of getting out the door on time. Everything was worrying me yesterday. Tonight I know they are both happy to be back at school, and it is enormously reassuring. My children see school as a place they are cared for, nourished intellectually and emotionally, and granted a degree of importance, and that makes them see it as their home. I so hope that there are children everywhere who are just as lucky as they start school this fall.

Running Streak Day 753 - I did 2.5 miles in the bright sunshine of late morning.