Volunteer to Bridge the Divide

On one side of town, frustrated affluent, stay-at-home moms call the school district weekly and email their children’s teachers regularly to see if they can get off the bench and be upgraded from a reserve to a fully vetted volunteer among the ranks. In our city’s best neighborhoods that have accordingly the city’s best schools, moms who are not selected to be classroom volunteers or room moms within the first three to five days of school are wait-listed.

Across town other schools send out emails almost weekly seeking volunteers to help with literacy classes, run after-school homework clubs and assist in the library and technology labs. The moms with children at these schools are typically not available to volunteer due to work and familial obligations. On this side of town, many of these families are maintained by single parents or require two incomes to keep the family stable. Volunteering is not viable regardless of desire and want.

Due to the uneven availability of district volunteers, the schools that have a plethora of volunteers appear to have higher test scores, less attendance problems, less cases of disciplinary action and less drop outs. Inequalities are startling district wide, and it is time for volunteers to start thinking about assisting children who are not as fortunate as their own. And really question the reason why they volunteer at their kids’ schools? Do they want to micromanage their own children? Get praise from their kids’ teachers? Hang out with their friends who also volunteer? Make their friends who work feel bad for not volunteering? Granted most volunteers give their time for the right reasons and genuinely want to assist teachers and students, but these most active volunteers are typically found in good schools where children are already excelling. Parents who volunteer at their children's schools also tend to give their children great support at home.

So perhaps it is time for volunteers to start thinking about kids who do not have as much parental support as their children and to start giving a hand to children who really could use one.

The Stress of Fine Print

“Mom, I got a flyer today about gifted and talented kids coping with stress,” said my son who is sixth grade.

"Really. Do you want to go?"

“I don’t need to go. I am the least stressed kid that I know. Stress just bounces off of me.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah, smart kids don’t have to stress. It is easy being smart. I do nothing and get good grades. The dumb kids should be stressed.”

“That’s not nice. Don't talk like that.”

“Well, it is true.”

Four Days Later

“Mom, I need you to call the school.”

“Why?”

“I need you to tell them I want to go to the workshop on stress.”

“Why?”

“I can get out of class if I go. I threw the paper way because I thought it was after school.”

“No, I am not calling. A truly gifted and talented child would have read the fine print.”

“But, Mom, you love calling the school. You always say you are going to call my counselor and teachers. This is your chance to call."

"No."

"Mom, I need to be around kids like me with so much stress."

"No."

"Please, Mom."

“Feeling a little stressed now, kid?”

A Few Thoughts on Silly Bandz

I have never considered home schooling my kids, not even for a minute. Well, not until all three of my school age kids came home wearing Silly Bandz. Exactly what they need. One more thing to fight over. One more thing that will get lost and result in tears. One more stupid trend on their arm as if a washable tattoo isn’t travesty enough. Silly Bandz are nothing more than jelly bracelets from the 1980s updated and now shaped like cats, trucks and garbage cans, except you don’t see Madonna wearing Silly Bandz.

But hey, it is sure great that your kids are so generous. I made sure that my kids will be giving your kids a gift in return. When you son calls his baby brother an “idiot.” No need to blame grandpa or HBO. My kids are as generous as your kids and natural teachers too. Thanks for the Silly Bandz.

Author's Note: Silly Bandz have been officially banded at my kids' school. No sadness on my part.

Skin

“Is he right-handed?" The teacher asked the proud parents who are assisting their oldest child with the start of his kindergarten career.

“We don’t know. He uses both hands. So, how should we manage that issue,” said the father.

“You don’t have to do anything,” said the teacher. “The brain is very good at self-management.”

Yes, my son and I have returned to the land of healthy children where parents must invent problems and ask the most insipid questions that make their concerns seem relevant. To avoid shooting looks of contempt at the beautiful smiling couple and their healthy child, I focused on my son who kept his left arm frozen and tight against his chest as he neatly and happily colored despite the paper squirming all over the table. He has no choices when it comes to handedness; his choices were cut away with the scalpel during his brain surgery. I wonder if they can feel my contempt and jealously.

When I looked down at my hands, I saw that I was wearing my mother’s skin. Skin that was worn, beaten and broken open. Her long battle, her many years of fighting for a special needs child turned her optimism into bitterness and her love into scorn. She grew to loathe and detest everyone who was typically developed even her own normally developed children. She could never see past the unfairness and cruelty that made her daughter’s life hard. My sister forgave those who teased and taunted her; found unconditional love, and made a life of her own while our mother remained angry at a cruel and unjust universe.

“I love kindergarten,” my son said.

I leaned over to give him a kiss on the cheek and to touch his shoulder. My skin returned.

School Cures Slothfulness

Lazy summer days are wonderful if you are not a lazy. For the indolent, summer days equal slothfulness with a sunburn. When the schedule is wide-open and everything seems to be elective, it is easy to opt to do nothing. During the school year, we are slugs robed as overachievers, but without someone telling us when and where to go, we return to our natural languid ways. This is the problem my family faces every summer. I offer to sign-up the kids for baseball, soccer, math, chess, and science camps, but they always decline. I load our summer schedule with lunchtime concerts, storytimes, splash parks and hiking trails, and they refuse to leave the house. I am just their mom, not an institution with authority that they actually respect. Choosing to be go-getters during the summer seems counterintuitive to the whole concept of summer vacation, but by the end of summer, my kids start seeking structure and stimulation even if they do not admit. A few days before school started, my eleven-year-old son was taking practice ACT tests just for fun, and my eight-year-old daughter cleaned all three bathrooms without being asked (although this was probably more about my incompetence than actual boredom).

So when school started this week, there was no sadness. We love school and all the scheduling headaches that come along with it. The homework, the nightly sustained silent reading, math facts, name writing practice, digging up creative and interesting things for show-and-tell, soccer practices, football practices, chess club, horseback riding, Chinese class, piano lessons and swimming lessons. Scheduling conflicts and time management nightmares abound. How I am I suppose to be at soccer practice, football practice and working at the library all at the same time? Calendar chaos. This is what I love about the school year. I morph into the pushy, overbearing part-time working mother trying to create “well-balanced” children while simultaneously developing killer Facebook status updates to make all my mom friends feel completely inadequate. My children transform into those “hurried children” that appear on 20/20 and 60 Minutes exposés. For nine months of the year, my naturally lazy children are overachieving athletic and academic superstars.

This is why we love school.