Picket Fence Post

Wow, I’ve gotten more responses to the posting of the school supply lists my three kids received than I have about other hot button topics as of late . . . The folks over at the Boston-oriented blog, Universal Hub, wrote about the lists I posted on the Picket Fence Post earlier this week and there have been comments slamming the teachers for compiling detailed lists for everything from scissors to twin-pocket folders, 10 glue sticks and boxes of tissues.

Universal Hub commenter Lynn asked:

“Could this be the teacher’s way of driving home that the school system is underfunded? That was the first thing that came to mind when I [saw] those lists, since I remember, oh so many years ago, most of that stuff (scissors, glue, markers, crayons, ruler) was provided for us. Heck, sometimes paper and composition books were as well.”

But others were having no part of that line of argument, calling the lists excessive and nit-picky. SwirlyGrrl said teachers who were really in need wouldn’t ask for the kinds of stuff on the lists:

“Micromanagers and control freaks, [in my humble opinion], get real specific and demand some needlessly expensive things without regard for the burdens they impose in shopping time and cost. If you fail to produce these items, you get chewed out for ‘not caring about your kid’s education’ . . .”

Have any of your children received their school supply lists yet? For comparison’s sake, it would be great if you could post your lists in the comments section below so we can get a sense of whether this is just MY kids’ school system, or whether this long-listitis is more widespread an issue.

Bring out your lists! 

I was sitting in traffic this morning – courtesy of roadway construction – wasting precious gasoline and hating myself. Why the self-loathing? Because I was headed to a party store to buy a plastic bowler hat and a cheap mustache for my third grade son’s Biography Day presentation Thursday morning.

The Eldest Boy is supposed to dress up as Orville Wright and read a speech that he researched and wrote about the inventor in front of his class and his classmates’ families. (The Girl will have her Biography Day presentation Thursday afternoon and will be dressed as Harriet Tubman.)

When the Biography Day assignment came home a few weeks ago, I rolled my eyes, not because of the biography part — that I like and heartily endorse — but because of the costume part. I live in a community where very little involving our children is done without some sort of flourish (for example, there are multiple end-of-the-year parties in the Eldest Boy’s class), therefore I knew that as Biography Day neared, I’d inevitably clash with my offspring over my refusal to buy expensive looking costumes for this event and my announcement that this domestically-disabled woman would not spend hours making costumes for THEIR homework assignments. (We are, as a family, still recovering from the Science Fair.)

After the kids and I downloaded images of Wright and Tubman from the Internet, I agreed to help them figure out what they’d need in order to dress like their assigned historical figures. We went through my closet, The Spouse’s closet and all of our dress-up clothes for ideas. The result of my “help?” Both children were angry with me and called me, literally, a Scrooge (for not buying a suit – the Eldest Boy doesn’t own one – and an authentic bowler), and insane (for suggesting that The Girl wear a skirt because women wore dresses during Tubman’s time).

So I was hating myself this morning because I violated my own belief that such assignments shouldn’t be dependent on parental economic resources or sewing skills so our children can avoid having their peers make fun of them. And here I was on the road and opening my wallet because my son is deathly afraid of having kids mock him if he wears a costume cobbled together with whatever we have in the house. (He and some of his classmates saw another child this week from a different class who was also assigned to be Orville Wright, and the kid reportedly wore a suit and nice hat.)

Thus I felt trapped in an untenable situation: Stick to my guns and have the Eldest Boy be made fun OR buy a few small items (the hat, the mustache) and borrow a few (borrowed a suit and tie that fit the Eldest Boy from a friend), and (hopefully) spare him from being embarrassed. So when the Eldest Boy wrapped his arms around my waist after seeing that I’d purchased the hat and mustache, I smiled, but felt as though I’d caved.

Do you ever have situations where your child has school assignments like this, where you’re faced with buying stuff/doing it for the student, or letting the child do it himself and have his work be compared to that of an adult or to something store-bought?

Image credit: NASA.

Chaperoned.

A third grade field trip.

And survived.

Was responsible for a group of four girls, including my daughter.

We decided to name our group “The HPs” (for “The Harry Potters,” The Girl is obsessed with all things Potter). When we went from one exhibit in the Boston Museum of Science to another, we formed the Hogwarts Express, and wound our way through the halls.

Then our group — along with the other third grade classes — took Duck Tours around the city of Boston, where an open, bus-like vehicle takes passengers to see landmarks by land and via the Charles River. Our tour guide wore pajama bottoms. And bright red sneakers. And was quite charismatic.

When we finally arrived back at the school, I was relieved that no one had gotten lost, injured or was panicked by the jarring electricity/lightning show.

Unfortunately, The Eldest Son, who also went on the same trip, was upset because his father didn’t get picked as a chaperone from among the parents’ who’d applied for the job. (I’ve only chaperoned once — for a trip to a farm with the Youngest Boy’s kindergarten class last year — and The Spouse hasn’t gone on a trip yet, though we’d hoped we’d both be able to do it this time.) The Spouse promised that he’d make it up to him. Maybe when they walk in historic steps along the Freedom Trail on a future trip.

While my chaperoning experiences were spared any melodramatic theatrics, have you ever had anything interesting happen when you’ve accompanied your kids on field trips?

It’s about this science project.

For my third graders.

A couple of weeks ago, the kids came home with an instructional packet which told parents and students that the children were expected to concoct a science experiment of their own design. The students were asked to research the subject they were testing, develop a hypothesis, conduct the experiment and then create a three-fold poster board display to bring to school. The packet included a list of links to educational web sites which purported to explain the scientific method — something about which my children claimed they didn’t learn in school . . . could that possibly be true, or were they not paying attention when the scientific method and experiments were explained?

Despite my hard-and-fast rule that the children will do their own experiments and displays because neither I nor The Spouse are third graders (the third grade teachers do not need to assess work done by thirty- and fortysomethings), this project proved to be a major headache in our over-scheduled household.

Since the assignment came home, I have found myself in the unenviable role of being the Evil Task Master, only I didn’t get a fun whip to literally crack around the house with crisp authority. It seems as though I’ve been spending an inordinate amount of time in the past few weeks reminding, cajoling and hounding my twin 9-year-olds to work on this project. I was in Science Project Hell, and the hellishness was only amplified when the Eldest Boy refused to focus on his experiment, becoming easily distracted by his younger sibling who was running around the house in his Paul Pierce jersey cheering for the Boston Celtics in playoff games, rooting for the Red Sox or just wildly swinging one of his Star Wars light sabers in close proximity of the experiments in order to get attention.

(more…)

You might have heard of Jen Singer from her web site/blog MommaSaid. But it’s likely you’ll be hearing more about her as her new book, You’re a Good Mom (And Your Kids Aren’t So Bad Either) starts getting more buzz. (See the book trailer — yes now there are book trailers — above.)

I sent Singer five questions about the book – which promises to provide readers with “14 Secrets to Finding Happiness Between Super Mom and Slacker Mom.” She kindly answered them below:

Meredith O’Brien, Picket Fence Post: You’ve been blogging and writing about motherhood for some time. Why did you decide to write this book and how did you come up with the idea of 14 tips for moms?

Jen Singer, author, You’re A Good Mom (And Your Kids Aren’t So Bad Either): I’m a recovering Mom-aholic. Though I spent upwards of 100 hours a week with my two toddlers as a full-time stay-at-home mom, I felt guilty folding laundry because I wasn’t giving my children “teachable moments” all 100 of those hours. But when I started to ease up on my impossibly high standards of motherhood — the standards that 21st century mothers created — I realized I was happier, and so were my kids.

Still, I saw other moms slide down the slippery slope into giving up on parenting almost entirely. They stopped being their kids’ filter, letting their fifth graders have cell phones and allow them to show The Sopranos on the back of the school bus while thinking it’s cute to let their daughters wear “Future Trophy Wife” T-shirts to middle school.

I felt that there’s a sweet spot in between where you can be happy and turn out perfectly good kids. So I boiled it down to 14 steps for finding that spot and staying there, and put it into a book.

(more…)