Yet during my astounding month long success as a person who actually writes, life continued in its usual harried way. Besides work and work and J’s work and more work and moving in and trying to finish the renovations on the house and unpacking and…..well, you get the picture, I had another parent teacher meeting for my daughter. And I actually heard myself ask this question, “Is there anything that she is good at?”
I am having trouble even writing this down I am so ashamed. Why? Because my daughter is kind and gentle and compassionate. She is full of ideas like her father and if you give her a piece of paper and a pencil she will never be bored. My question was purely related to academic performance, my own warped need to know that she is keeping up with the Jones’ elementary school style. Who am I? What have I become? How utterly warped is that?
The fact that I am sending my daughter to an environment that might not be the best for her was confirmed in what her school calls “her portfolio”. Instead of a report card, my kids bring home a huge white binder of selected school works and self evaluations. It is actually really great, because you get an idea of what they are understanding and where the difficulties lie as well as a glimpse into the way they perceive their own abilities. In the part where she describes what school means to her she says, right after, “it’s a place where you learn to read and write,” it is a place where my parents force me to go.”
Bless and curse her for honesty.
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