Sometimes I really hate school
Sometimes I really hate school. I hate the way it seems to dominate our lives with concerns that really shouldn't matter, that really have nothing to do with "learning" in a broader, more important sense.
From the time the boys were little, Peter and I agreed that we did not want to send them to any private or alternative or "special" kindergarten or primary school. As I have often stated, my stance has always been that my children are privileged: as white, male, intelligent and healthy children from a stable and affirmative, well educated middle class background surrounded by a strong social network in a peaceful and prosperous western European country, they have every conceivable advantage. I don't believe that it is the school's job to enhance the privileges they already have, but to provide them with a framework in which they may learn to use their privileges sensibly and wisely for their own benefit and the benefit of others.
Although sending them to the International School in Linz seemed to make sense for many reasons, hearing again and again that the International School is so widely regarded as an "elite school", even though it is a public and not a private school, we had some reservations as well.
The "international" part seems to work well for Patrick, except that children from international contexts often leave again as quickly as they have come (this is one of the primary motivations for his trip to London next month). He also appears to have grasped how the system works and what he needs to do to at least minimally meet conventional demands in order to be left in peace to pursue his own interests. I am often grateful for the way that makes life so much easier for everyone.
Christopher, on the other hand, appears to have adopted the same attitude of "resistance" that generations of intelligent, creative and mostly leftist people before him have tried (including both his parents), seeking to evade the conventional demands of school, trying not to conform, insisting on his own interests and being "different". As well as that works in most conventional school settings, like the schools that his friends who share this attitude attend, I'm afraid it is not going to work in the challenging school that he attends. It is so hard to watch him, knowing how much he stands to lose, and the feeling of "been there, done that" doesn't make it easier for either of us.
The last two years of the international school are devoted to preparing to take the exams for an "international baccalaureate", and it is a very different kind of learning situation. Since Christopher is in the sixth year now, they have to choose which subjects they want to concentrate on as "higher level" and "standard level" subjects, working intensively in small groups mostly on their own with a teacher supervising. Christopher was thrilled about the presentations of the possibilities last week and very excited about taking history, English and drama as his higher level subjects. The problem is that he has to pass this year first, and he is so easily distracted that the situation doesn't look very promising, even if he doesn't end up spending most of the school year in the hospital, which is also a real possibility. It was such a joy to see his face light up as he enthusiastically told me about what they would be doing in higher level history next year, but no one else can make the connection for him that he needs to be in his room now writing essays in French, Spanish and English in order to get to that point. He has to figure that out for himself.
Of course I am delighted that both of my sons have retained their natural curiosity, and I enjoy conversations with both of them about what they are interested in, what they are learning in every sense both through and despite school. I just wish we didn't have to deal with this constant pressure in the background.
That's why sometimes I really hate school.
From the time the boys were little, Peter and I agreed that we did not want to send them to any private or alternative or "special" kindergarten or primary school. As I have often stated, my stance has always been that my children are privileged: as white, male, intelligent and healthy children from a stable and affirmative, well educated middle class background surrounded by a strong social network in a peaceful and prosperous western European country, they have every conceivable advantage. I don't believe that it is the school's job to enhance the privileges they already have, but to provide them with a framework in which they may learn to use their privileges sensibly and wisely for their own benefit and the benefit of others.
Although sending them to the International School in Linz seemed to make sense for many reasons, hearing again and again that the International School is so widely regarded as an "elite school", even though it is a public and not a private school, we had some reservations as well.
The "international" part seems to work well for Patrick, except that children from international contexts often leave again as quickly as they have come (this is one of the primary motivations for his trip to London next month). He also appears to have grasped how the system works and what he needs to do to at least minimally meet conventional demands in order to be left in peace to pursue his own interests. I am often grateful for the way that makes life so much easier for everyone.
Christopher, on the other hand, appears to have adopted the same attitude of "resistance" that generations of intelligent, creative and mostly leftist people before him have tried (including both his parents), seeking to evade the conventional demands of school, trying not to conform, insisting on his own interests and being "different". As well as that works in most conventional school settings, like the schools that his friends who share this attitude attend, I'm afraid it is not going to work in the challenging school that he attends. It is so hard to watch him, knowing how much he stands to lose, and the feeling of "been there, done that" doesn't make it easier for either of us.
The last two years of the international school are devoted to preparing to take the exams for an "international baccalaureate", and it is a very different kind of learning situation. Since Christopher is in the sixth year now, they have to choose which subjects they want to concentrate on as "higher level" and "standard level" subjects, working intensively in small groups mostly on their own with a teacher supervising. Christopher was thrilled about the presentations of the possibilities last week and very excited about taking history, English and drama as his higher level subjects. The problem is that he has to pass this year first, and he is so easily distracted that the situation doesn't look very promising, even if he doesn't end up spending most of the school year in the hospital, which is also a real possibility. It was such a joy to see his face light up as he enthusiastically told me about what they would be doing in higher level history next year, but no one else can make the connection for him that he needs to be in his room now writing essays in French, Spanish and English in order to get to that point. He has to figure that out for himself.
Of course I am delighted that both of my sons have retained their natural curiosity, and I enjoy conversations with both of them about what they are interested in, what they are learning in every sense both through and despite school. I just wish we didn't have to deal with this constant pressure in the background.
That's why sometimes I really hate school.
posted by Aileen at Saturday, January 21, 2006
1 Comments:
That is a wonderful description, Orlando - thank you!
The way you describe your educational career sounds very familar to me in many ways too. Sometimes I feel like a fool trying to convince Christopher that he should make an effort at school, when I know I never did myself. Of course, as I have also explained to him, the high school I attended in southern California was a joke. It wasn't worth any effort, and no real effort was needed to get through. I was just lucky to come from a family that valued learning and knowledge in a broader sense than just school work (which is obviously true for you too).
When I got to USF, a Jesuit university, and found myself among fellow students who had received a much better formal education at private Catholic schools, I started realizing how much I had missed and put far more effort into "catching up" - and I loved it. I took extra classes, read more books, virtually gave up sleeping because there just wasn't enough time to fit that in next to all the things I wanted to learn. What I didn't pay much attention to, however, were the formal requirements, so that after seven semesters (including the first two in Innsbruck) I found myself three credits (i.e. one class) short of a bachelors degree.
I didn't want to stay in San Francisco to finish just three credits, because the first two semesters in Innsbruck were so exciting that I was in a hurry to return and continue studying there (somehow I did eventually get my diploma from San Fransisco, but I didn't particularly care by then). What I enjoyed most about studying theology in Innsbruck was that it was very academic, abstract, theoretical - it didn't feel like working, because I just loved doing it. There again, though, I didn't pay enough attention to formal requirements. I somehow started more or less in the middle, working my way through various exams towards the beginning and the end at the same time. For that reason, I am still just a few requirements short of a magistra today. Having spent something like eight years at universities, I really have very little to show for myself, except the memory of what I learned and the pleasure that gave me.
How much do all the exams and diplomas and other bits of paper really matter? I honestly don't know. Maybe I missed something, maybe I could have made life easier for myself somewhere along the line. Maybe not. With or without a degree, having studied theology invariably requires some kind of explanation.
The one thing I do wish I had learned somewhere along the line is a sense of self-discipline and organization, in order to get things done that are not necessarily exciting or inspiring but still need doing. Maybe somehow Christopher and I can still learn that together. Years ago I bought a wonderful, outrageously kitsch bookmark with a quotation on it from George Eliot: "It is never to late to be what you might have been." I hope so.
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