It seems like just weeks ago that we attended Back to School
Night. The positive energy was
palpable as dozens of parents, both veterans or virgins (to the school, of
course), saw the future of their sun-kissed shoulders fade in exchange for the
refreshing change of a more regimented weekly schedule. Once our Headmaster turned on
her microphone, we quickly hushed as though being graded on manners at a
school assembly from our teen years. Clearly there was an important announcement to come.
After a great amount of research and consideration (blah,
blah, blah), the kindergarten through fourth grade curriculum would no longer
include daily homework assignments.
Once in fifth grade, the practice would be slowly introduced, in
preparation for middle school.
There was an audible reaction from the crowd, though I am to
this day unsure if it was of relief or concern. With a kindergartener and preschooler, our family really
wouldn’t be impacted by the drastic move just yet. Still, I was impressed with the progressive nature of the
decision and looked forward to learning more about it’s justification. That said, I’ve since learned other
families were unimpressed with such an important announcement coming at the
start of a school year, when the opportunity to change institutions as a result
was pretty much nonexistent.
Next up was a preview of Vicki Abeles’ documentary Race to
Nowhere: Transforming Education from the Ground Up which we were all encouraged
to watch in full (I recommend the same to you), and a list of suggested resources. My husband and I not only watched the
film, but also purchased literature written by some of the experts featured
within it.
We were ready.
We were ready to let our children be children, while committing to
knowing enough about their current curriculum that we’d be able to supplement
their lessons with real life
assignments at home. When they
studied fractions, we’d bake a cake to practice measuring ingredients. When they had a lesson on the
constellations, we’d break out a telescope and learn a thing or two ourselves.
I (nervously) anticipated stepping up to the challenge and being more
involved, while noting that the decrease in my daughter’s workload may result in
an increase in mine. What I wasn’t expecting was how beautiful and rewarding the experience would be...
A couple of months ago my kindergartener began a unit on the
lifecycle of the butterfly.
I was
immediately reminded of the butterfly nursery that Santa had put under our tree
and I’d stored away, likely to be forgotten by New Year’s Day. We broke it out and I mailed in a
postcard requesting live caterpillars.
(Now, that’s a check off the good ole bucket list.) Shortly after, this arrived.
Every morning afterwards, the girls would awake with anticipation, hoping for this:
Each day, we spoke about the caterpillars development, photographed
their progression, and reported back to teachers about what was happening. Eventually, the hard work paid off.
We kept the butterflies for about two weeks, giving them
fresh flowers and sugar water along the way. Then, we said goodbye.
It was sad and beautiful at the same time. I guess letting go always is.
