The beginning of the school year brings about many changes in your child’s, and in your, life. Often there are new schools, new classrooms, new teachers, new friends. With these bring immediate and specific concerns: how do I find my way around the school? which adults can I turn to for help? where is the bathroom and how do I ask to use it? who will sit next to me at lunchtime?
As parents, I think our primal reaction is to want to shelter our children from harm, both physical and emotional. We don’t want our kids to feel left out, scared, uncomfortable, and alone. Often, I think this is wrapped up in our own childhood memories of school. I remember being worried about boarding the school bus, and I also remember vividly being the new kid in 5th grade. At age 10, on the precipice of adolescence, I teetered on the edge of being shy and loving to perform. Would I be too nervous to try out for the school play? Would I raise my hand in math class? And more importantly to a pre-teen, with whom would I navigate the friendships in school?
But how much should we be protecting our children against what we may initially perceive as emotional harm? And in the long run, does stepping in, or does NOT stepping in, create children who are better able to cope with what the world throws at them?
To illustrate, let me exemplify with a scenario I encountered that made me re-think my position on being my child’s greatest advocate.
Antony and I chose to place Annabel in a morning preschool, 2 days a week, when she was 2 3/4. Luke was brand-new, and honestly, I wanted Annabel NOT to be stuck at home every morning for his nap, and the idea of a few hours a week for me sounded like heaven. Her school highly recommends utilizing their carpool drop-off/pick-up line. At parent orientation, they assured us that one of Annabel’s teachers would take her out of the carseat and walk her to class. So that’s what we prepared her for. On the 2nd day of her school, Antony pulled up into the carpool line, and some random teacher took Annabel out of her carseat. Tears and screaming ensued. It took Annabel over an hour to calm down, during which Antony exchanged heated words with the director of the preschool, Nancy, basically saying that they dropped the ball.
I also sent off a fiery email to Nancy. I remember I wrote to her, “I’m okay with my child being sad, but I’m not okay with her being scared. You all scared her today when someone she didn’t know opened the car door!”
Nancy approached me in the hallway a few hours later as Antony and I came to pick up Annabel (who by the way, had a fruitful morning at school). I’ll never forget what she said to me. She said, “Melanie, I’ve been working with early childhood kids and parents a long time, so listen to me. It’s OKAY that your kid was scared. We don’t want to scare kids intentionally, but if it happens, it’s a teaching moment. We’re teaching them, here at school and you at home, how to cope with all of these emotions that they’re feeling. If we try to shelter them from all of these ‘bad’ feelings, they’ll never grown up and learn to deal with more complex ones.”
And that is why I love Miss Nancy. She’s not afraid of saying to a parent, “You’re wrong, I’m the expert and I’m right in this case.” And she made me face my own fear of not protecting and of disappointing my child.
It’s okay for my child to be disappointed. And I’m not being a bad mom for allowing that disappointment to continue; I’d be nurturing a sense of entitlement if I always stepped in and tried to shelter her from feelings and situations that are tough to deal with.
In the past week, I’ve heard parents complain about their child’s teacher, that their child is not in class with any friends, and moreover, that Miss Nancy won’t even listen to requests to change any of this. Good for Miss Nancy.
Of course we should closely monitor and participate in our children’s education. We should ask questions of the school directors and teachers, we should know what’s going on and WHY in the classrooms. But what are we teaching our children if we always step in to argue with the administration on their behalf? When will we stop? Will we argue for our child’s grades? Will we write excuse notes for not doing homework? Or, as one of the parents of a seventh grade student of mine once did, will we blame the school officials when our son is caught engaged in a sexual act on campus?
Or, should we perhaps focus on guiding our children through dealing with disappointments and frustrations within the educational system? If we try this, such as, “I know it’s tough that Sara and Megan are in the same class together and you’re not. But hey, now you have the chance to meet new friends, too, and you can still keep in touch with the other girls,” perhaps we will better prepare our children for becoming their own advocates and using their own voices.
In the end, I believe that you will be your child’s greatest advocate by giving him/her the tools necessary to cope with a range of emotions, proud or embarrassed, ecstatic or frightened. Your child will know that you love him, and he’ll also know that you trust him, too, to become an independent human capable of thinking, feeling, and yes, even failing once in a while.
Tags: advocate, advocates, children, education, educational, mediate, parent, parents, school, schools, working