Thank you for your advice yesterday about school.  It was interesting to hear — first and foremost — how other places approached education but also, the wide range of experiences with school — either your own education or what you were now doing for your children.

I should have also told you that I am the product of public schools.  I was never a fantastic student.  Actually, I was such a terrible speller in fourth grade that I had to go down to a third grade spelling group because the lowest spelling group in my fourth grade classroom was still too advance for a child who could not tell the difference between “flour” and “flower.” (And to be fair, could spell neither one correctly.)  I was in a few honours classes later in school, and one or two AP classes.  But mostly I was an average student in average classes who daydreamed way too much to follow what was happening in the classroom and who didn’t ever want to sit in her chair.  I wandered the room; and when I wasn’t wandering the room, I was making glue sculptures inside my desk.

And look, I turned out okay.

I always point that out to kids — my own and other people’s children.  That the fully functioning adult you see before you once struggled with math and French.  The person who has published four books wasn’t in the highest English classes.  That doing school well doesn’t always translate into doing life well.

And I think, whatever shortcomings I had during my school years — nursery school through graduate school — I have done life well.

*******

Let me tell you a story about a lollipop.  I once took a lollipop that someone offered that was in the shape of a flower.  I took it because it was pretty and it was candy.  As a kid, I always accepted any candy offered because you never knew from where your next dose of sugar would come.

I kept said lollipop in my room, looking at it all the time.  I was really psyched that I owned such a cool lollipop.  At some point though I realized that I had no intention of eating it.  I’m not really a fan of lollipops, and this one looked particularly vile.  The clarity reminded me of a Jolly Rancher, another candy I dislike.  But I had this lollipop because how the hell do you say no to a lollipop?  And this single piece of candy drove me crazy because I didn’t want to eat and I didn’t want to throw it out, and in the end, it became clutter.

I feel like we’re supposed to want to apply to that GT school because who knows when our next educational hallelujah will come about?  Turning down the opportunity feels like rejecting the lollipop; it just isn’t done, not by people who care about sugar and worry where their next treat will come from.  But I also know that I don’t really want that lollipop.  And I’m not getting a strong sense that the twins want the lollipop.  All four of us in this house only know that we’re supposed to want the lollipop… by which I mean school… and I guess the two adults don’t know why we are so reluctant to push the kids ahead.  To nudge them towards the greatness that these schools silently promise by their mere existence and exclusivity.

*******

I have no clue how we got here.  I know rationally that I celebrated my 7th blogoversary last June, and that the twins were giving up the bottle around the time I started this blog.  Along the way they moved from cribs to toddler beds to real beds to separate rooms.  They learned how to build a sandcastle and tie their shoes (sort of) and bake cookies and write stories and program computers.  They cut their hair for the first time, and then they cut it again and again — the Wolvog more often than the ChickieNob.  They lost teeth and grew new ones.  They’ve said hello and goodbye to 6 teachers.

Along the way, they’ve become these amazing, inquisitive, funny human beings that cry over iOS changes and friendship slights, and then turn around the next day — all smiles — and spit out the answer to 3 x 9.  They are third graders in the largest sense of the word: excited pleasers who feel things intensely.

What I am worried about is that things are moving so quickly that every day feels like a blur.  And when time moves like that, to the point where you don’t know how you ended up with two third graders, you wonder if you’ve missed things along the way.  Have we instilled in them all the values and ethics and information they need in order to keep succeeding?

Sometimes life feels a little bit like a sick day, when you come back to class and have no clue what is going on because you missed a vital lesson and now nothing makes sense for a while.  I show up every single day in their lives — overly present some might say — because I don’t want to miss one minute of them, and I don’t want them to miss one minute of whatever vital lessons I can instill, mostly because I feel if I don’t, I am sick-daying their life.

And then how will they catch up?

*******

Nothing is broken right now.  They are not bored — as far as I can tell.  They are just regular kids doing regular kid things with their regular kid friends.  They like school enough, though they really come alive during after school activities.  They are curious.  They are sensitive.  They are obsessed with fairness as well as trying to figure out how they’re perceived.  They’ve got a great group of friends.  As Somewhat Lower told me in regards to her own education decisions: “”if it’s working, then there’s not a problem, and if it stops working, we’ll make a change.”  That’s really smart, and maybe instead of looking at what we’re getting or giving up, I just need to see it as not trying to fix something that isn’t broken.

I guess if I had one moment that I wanted to serve as a snapshot for their childhood, it would be this great moment that came during their book club recently.  We were reading aloud Percy Jackson after the kids had finished shouting out answers to my etymology quiz in exchange for Hershey Kisses.  The ChickieNob went into my bag and doled out more candy to everyone else while I read, and the kids were flopped on the floor or sofas or each other.  And everyone was silent as I read the moment with the Minotaur; collectively holding their breath during a great moment of fiction.  And it was just getting cold outside but the doors were open to let in the night air.  And I thought: this moment is exactly how I want learning to be.  This is the sort of moment that will turn them into writers; that will make them love books.  And sure enough, when I told the kids I was only going to read until the next page break, one of them screamed out, “no!  I need to know what happens.”  And I jokingly told them that we were going to pull an all-nighter then.  And they looked at me, totally earnest and said, “really?”  There was this popcorn chorus of kids saying “really?” with such hope that maybe I wasn’t teasing; that we were really going to stay up all night reading Percy Jackson together.

That’s what I want learning to be; something more akin to the old Greek tutors except with perhaps a bit more cheekiness.  I love that the ChickieNob felt comfortable to help herself and others to the candy.  I love that they were all flopped on the floor and furniture like puppies.  I love that they were so engrossed in the story that they wanted to stay longer.  I love that even though I’m the twins’ mum, in that context, I’m just Mel, the bringer of the books.

An education well played should always make the person ask for just one more chapter.

This is a long post where I muse aloud, trying to make sense of the conflicting thoughts in my head and heart.  If you have no interest in the education system, you may want to skip it.  If you do have kids, even if they’re young, it’s worth thinking about these things now, before you get to the place where you need to make a decision.  If your kids are older than mine, you may have already made these types of decisions.

I’ll start by saying that we’re lucky: we have a decision to make.  I mean that in the sense that we lucked out with having kids in general, but also that they are intelligent, thoughtful human beings who excel in the classroom.  But there is so much more that we want for them than admission to the college of their choice.

*******

First they are babies and you worry about what to feed them.  You worry about brain development and weight gain.  You pepper the pediatrician with questions; you stress over the milestones listed in popular baby books.  Then they grow a bit and you worry whether you’re providing them with the right toys, the ones that will develop that part of the brain that can do high level math.  You worry about their classes and whether they have enough play dates and whether they’re really playing with other kids or engaging in sideways play beside them.

I’ve learned by this point that the worrying never ends; it just changes in shape with each stage.

Because this is it.  This is their foundation, the brain and body on which they’ll build the rest of their life.  I mean, what if a choice you make now negatively impacts them in the future?  What if Cheetos are found to stunt reading ability or you discover that your child has behavioural issues later in life because you never soothed them with Baby Einstein?

We may worry about different things, but I think all parents worry that we are fucking things up.  That we are in charge of raising another human being towards adulthood, and we are accidentally screwing up some piece of it.

*******

We’ve hit that education turning point year, third grade.  For those unfamiliar with the American school system, third grade is a transition year where students start getting sorted in categories.  GT is code for gifted and talented. (Not, as the Wolvog thought, short for GT Racing, one of his favourite video games.  He thought perhaps those initials meant that the teacher had figured out just how much he loves cars.)

In third grade, students have the opportunity to apply to a GT public school.  They are specialized programs in the county, usually placed inside a school with lower test scores in order to raise the profile of the general school.  In exchange for parents lending their children to another school in order to raise their scores, they are given extras through the program.  I know that is a very bitter, very negative way of viewing these programs, but there is a lot to feel bitter and negative about when it comes to these programs.  Unless activities can miraculously be scheduled around that school schedule, many programs preclude kids from having the well-rounded life we want them to have outside of academia.  They may be with like-minded kids, but those kids don’t live in their neighbourhood making it difficult to continue the friendship outside of school hours.  A 45-minute commute is tacked onto both ends of the school day making school pretty much the only thing that happens from Monday through Friday.  Admission to these programs means moving from school to school (and new set of kids to new set of kids) every few years, applying and holding your breath over and over again.

Moreover, the school is dangled before parents like a jewel, and as we reach out to touch it, our hand is slapped and we’re reminded that maybe two kids will get in.  30 may apply and two will get in.

I don’t know how I feel about GT schools.  Actually, I’m not sure why I said that.  I obviously know how I feel: I feel like labeling has just as many drawbacks as it has advantages.  That for every kid who feels great about themselves in the moment, that they will also feel the sting of that label in the future when their preciousness is not cherished or recognized.  Because it won’t.  There will be future endeavours where they will fail because everyone has endeavours where they fail.  And kids who have been set up to believe that they are better, smarter, more capable are more likely to suffer from greater hurt and a deeper fall than those who believe that they are no better, no more deserving, no more fantastic than anyone else on this earth.  That we all have strengths and weaknesses, and it’s better to stick together in a diverse community.

I know what you’re thinking right now.  You’re about to suck in your breath and skip right now to the comment section to tell me about how brilliant your child is, and how they can’t possibly function in a regular classroom.  And if they can’t, then the GT school is right for your kid.  But my kids can thrive in a regular classroom.  They’re happy learners at the moment.  They have good friends.

And this is my blog, and right now, we’re talking about my kids.  So…

*******

I want my kids to be more than book smart.  Book smart I can teach at home.  There is nothing they can learn at this point that I can’t teach them better in this one-on-one space after school.  I am foolish enough and lucky enough to be able to fit my life around theirs and give them that attention.  I know that isn’t usually the case.

What I want them to be is life smart, because life smart is applicable beyond academia or their future career.  Life smart will carry them through all their relationships.  It will teach them when to stay somewhere and when to leave.  It will help them read people (and not just books).  It will make them into good spouses should they choose to get married or good parents if they choose to have children.  Those are the skills that when applied to problems change a community.

I think that sucking it up and learning to roll with things is part of growing up into an intelligent, wonderful human being.  That when we constantly snatch kids out of their current environment, telling them they are ultra special and therefore destined for special spaces, we don’t teach them how to make the best of a bad situation or how to be the change they wish to see.  I want my kids to learn to get themselves interested in something, even when it seems overwhelming or dull at first glance.  And I want them to learn how to do something well even when it’s boring since all jobs have boring parts.  Can you imagine teachers saying to kids, “you know what, I didn’t do your report cards since assessments are boring.  I just like the teaching part of teaching.”  There are always going to be things we don’t want to do, meetings we don’t want to sit through, and minutiae that bores us.  But we learn to slog through.  And I guess I want the twins to learn that slog.

I want my kids to love learning.  I want them to be almost 40 years old and learning something completely new.  I want them to have life-long curiosity.  I don’t want them to ever accept the first answer; I want them to be question-asking information seekers.  I want them to get as excited about books in their middle age years as they do in their mid-elementary school years.

Those are all the things I want.  And I want my kids to have the best childhood filled with amazing opportunities.  You see the conundrum.  Because it all goes back to those early fears: am I giving my children the best nutrition, am I signing them up for the best classes, am I providing them with the most mind-enriching toys?  Do I turn my nose up at those programs just because they’re elite and I don’t think they send a great life message to kids?

Or do I join with the panting masses, hoping that the GT school will give my children the best education possible on our budget?  I don’t want to ever look back with regret at the road not taken and say, “crap; I wish we had chosen that path.”

We all want what is best for our kids, and I think all parents need to do what is best for their kids.  That may translate as sending them to private school or applying to a GT program.  And it may translate as keeping them where they are and doing enrichment outside the school.  That’s what we’re still trying to figure out.

*******

Maybe we just need to be our own GT program operating like a bubble within the general population of our local public school.  A GT program for two, mostly held during after school hours.  Maybe with a program that small, we could do it even better than the main GT program, even if our homespun one comes without the prestige of the formal one.

A case in point: Josh took the ChickieNob downtown to meet Lemony Snicket (fine, Daniel Handler).  The GT school also attended the event.  The school left at the end of the event in unison after hearing him read.  The ChickieNob got to stay and speak to him for a bit, and he signed all her books.  Doing it our way resulted in a better experience than if she had been part of the school.  Granted, mileage may vary, and what we may be willing to do or can do is different from another family.  But again, I’m not making this decision for anyone else.  We’re just making it for ourselves, and we’re struggling between a dislike of the system and feeling as if we can’t leave any stone unturned.

And I guess the long answer is that I don’t know.  I know how detrimental that GT program will be to our overall happiness as a family — the long commute, the separation from friends, and constant judgment — but I don’t know how beneficial that GT program could be.  I guess I’m throwing this out there because I’m looking for any thoughts I haven’t yet considered or your thoughts on the ones I have.

All of this comes to a head with Marjorie Ingall’s excellent article on ethical parenting and schools that Josh sent my way as we debate this out at night.  I agree with her wholeheartedly.  And wherever we go, I will give that school my 100% to help instill the wonder I want all the kids to have.

The application deadline draws near.  I am 99% sold on staying put.  Of doing the extras our way.  But it’s that 1% that is ruffling my mind, even if the whole thing is a moot point since, you know, it’s all about judgment and gatekeeping.  I could go through all of this worrying and in the end, if they don’t get in, there is no choice to make.

Welcome back to IComLeavWe. It stands for International Comment Leaving Week, but if you say it aloud, doesn’t it sounds like “I come; [but] leave [as a] we”? And that’s sort of the point. Blogging is a conversation and comments should be honoured and encouraged. I like to say that comments are the new hug–a way of saying hello, giving comfort, leaving congratulations. Here is the vital information, pure and simple (a more detailed set of rules follows below the list):

• The list opens the 1st of every month. It remains open until the 21st. You can add yourself at any point. The list is open to everyone in the blogosphere–blog writers and/or blog readers.
• Add yourself to the list by filling out this form after adding the icon below:  The November list is now closed.  The December list will open on 11/27.
  
• Click here to cut-and-paste this bit of code to add to your sidebar (if you have the old code from another month, remove it and replace it with this one). You need to add the icon or a link to the current list on your blog (see below) and will not be added until it’s up.
• Commenting kicks off every month on the 21st. Please mark it somewhere (calendar, post-it note taped to your computer…), though I will be sending out an email reminder on the 20th. Commenting week runs from the 21st to the 28th. Every day, leave 5 comments and return 1 comment for a total of 6 comments. You are highly encouraged to choose the blogs you comment on from the participants list below, but this is not required.
• I will send a second email on the 28th to remind you to remove the icon from your blog.
• Read below if you want to find out about Iron Commenters.
• The commenting ends on the 28th. We catch our breath and the whole thing starts again the next month on the 1st. Drop in and out according to what is happening in your life between the 21st and the 28th.

1. Stirrup Queens (twins, books, writing)
2. Stupid Broken Eggs (IUI, infertility, faith)
3. Breathe Gently (new mum, IVF, PCOS)
4. Fox In The Henhouse (infertility surrogacy adenomyosis)
5. The 2 Week Wait (infertility humor motherhood)
6. In Due Time (hope, faith, waiting)
7. One Step at a Time (baby after infertility)
8. My journey through infertility, pregnancy & loss (pregnancy, loss, infertility)
9. Birds, Bees, and Medicine (infertility, PCOS, and hope)
10. Hope, Love and Family (infertility, endometriosis, faith)
11. Ready Now To See it Your Way (G-d, family, life)
12. Life of an Army Wife (army, donor eggs, donor embryo)
13. Waiting for Baby (pregnancy, PCOS, thyroid)
14. Amateur Nester (infertility, faith, home)
15. Wishing on a Snowflake (open embryo adoption, infertility, loss)
16. Emma in Mommyland (pregnancy, sahm, life)
17. Baby On Mind (embryo adoption, infertility, 40+)
18. The M House (domestic adoption, parenting after loss)
19. Comatised (love, life, happiness)
20. His & Her Infertility (international adoption, PCOS, azoo)
21. No Bun In This Oven (infertility, iui, trying to conceive)
22. Familyoftthree (ttc #2 life with #1 observations)
23. Our Journey to Cameroon (ministry, rainbow baby, Wycliffe)
24. Work is for Suckers (pregnancy after IUI, books)
25. A Little Bit More (pcos, infertility, life)
26. Immeasurable Love (adoption, parenthood, infertility)
27. Sweet Dreams are Made of This (waiting to adopt)
28. Ask an Infertile (infertility, ttc, fertility treatments)
29. Penguins of mine (infertility, loss, drawing)
30. Feeling Beachie (life, humor, family)
31. Dangled Carat (dating, relationships, love)
32. Just Another Infertility Blog (infertility loss ivf)
33. MissConception (parenting and pregnancy, loss, PCOS)
34. Plan Y (secondary IF, cancer, parenting)
35. The Days of our Lives (pregnant with number 2, after recurrent losses)
36. all i ever wished for… (infertility, IVF, twins)
37. PCOS is Taking Over My Life (infertility, pcos, support)
38. The Empty Cookie (loss, disabilities, living children)
39. Dogs Aren’t Kids (infertility mfi rants)
40. Baking & Babies (baking, parenting, PCOS)
41. Baby Makin’ (pcos, ttc baby #1)
42. The November list is now closed.  The December list will open on 11/27.

Q: What if I miss a day?

A: Catch up the next day by doubling your comments–12 comments instead of 6.

Q: What if I have two blogs? Can I sign up twice, listing both blogs?

A: Yes, but you also need to double your comments. If you have two blogs listed, you should be leaving 12 comments per day.

Q: What is an Iron Commenter?

A: Not for the faint-of-heart. People who wish to be an Iron Commenter and be entered on the Iron Commenter honour roll need to leave a comment on every blog on the participants list (exceptions are blogs that require you to have a special log-in, such as some LiveJournal accounts or other similar situations). You can spread out this commenting any way you wish over the whole week, but the final comment needs to be left by midnight on the 28th (EST). Reaching Iron Commenter status is done on an honour system. Please email me if you earn Iron Commenter status so I can add you to the wall of honour.

Q: Why do I have to add that bit of code to my sidebar?

A: The code is the latest icon (the icon changes colour every month so you know that you’re on the right list). This month, the icon is navy blue, the next month it will be red, etc. The reason is two-fold: (1) it enables more people to find out about IComLeavWe and (2) it gives you easy access to the current list once the commenting week actually begins and better ensures that you’ll use it. Too many times, people sign up and forget to actually do IComLeavWe and this icon gives you a daily reminder (with the dates on it) every time you open your own blog. The icon is linked back to the current list. On the 28th, remove the icon from your blog. A new one will be created for the next month.

Q: It’s the 23rd and I just saw this for the first time on my friend’s blog! I want to join the list–why can’t I?

A: Because IComLeavWe happens every month, once the list is closed, it’s closed. If you’re finding out about this on the 23rd, you can’t join the current month. But leave yourself a note to check back in a week on the 1st and you can sign up for the next month.

Q: You said the list closes on the 21st. Well, it’s still the 21st where I am. Why aren’t you moving my information onto the list?

A: All dates and times are U.S. Eastern Standard Time (UTC/GMT -5 hours). The list closes around 11 p.m. EST on the 21st.

Q: What if no one comments on my blog and I have no comments to return?

A: Well, that really doesn’t happen for the most part, but in that case, simply choose another blog and add an additional comment. The goal is to hit 6 comments daily as a minimum. Going over that is fantastic and encouraged.

Q: Mel, my question wasn’t covered at all. What do I do?

A: Email me; I’m quite friendly. It helps to place “IComLeavWe” in the subject line. You could also check this post which contains the history of IComLeavWe and see if you can glean anything there.

Looking for the comment section? It has been closed on this post. Use the form in the directions to add yourself to the list.

She also says tch-ch-ch-chow! but she mostly says thank you to Allison at A Good Mother for making my foxy Halloween dreams come true.

I was resigned to being the horse who spoke to the fox in mor-or-or-or-orse because I found a horse head for $2 but no fox.  I bought said head and told Allison about it.  And she made me this fox hat out of pity for my lack of crafting skills.  So now Josh gets to be the horse and I get to be the FOX!

I think this is fair because I have an unusual love of foxes.  We have one in our town that sometimes trots through our neighbourhood.  I’ve gone outside to try to lure him into our home and be Truman’s friend, but he usually ignores me and keeps walking.  I’m not offended.  I get that he likes to be out on his own.  He doesn’t have time for me and a little guinea pig.  He’s a fox.  He has places to go, people to see.

So a massive thank you to Allison at A Good Mother.  If you don’t know her new blog, you should.  She’s an old blogger with new digs, and they’re pretty sweet.

We got tickets to see Broadway Idiot at the AFI before it was announced that the movie would be out on iTunes.  We decided to keep the tickets so we could see it with a crowd of American Idiot lovers, but Josh joked that I’d probably download it beforehand so I could determine what were my favourite parts before the viewing.  For your information, I waited a solid half hour after seeing the movie to download it.  See, restraint.

Afterward I turned to Josh and said, “great documentary or greatest documentary ever?”  He looked at me wild-eyed, a picture of disbelief, and then I smiled and said, “trick question because ¡Cuatro! was also released this year.”  He found the movie very enjoyable but ultimately without any conflict.  And I loved the lack of conflict because it meant that the movie was like a 90 minute hug with a life-size Gund teddy bear; albeit one that was cursing and thrashing about on a stage.

Michael Mayer’s parents were in the audience at the theater, which was nice because I got an answer as to which high school he went to since we grew up in the same hometown.  I wondered how odd it would be to watch your child in a film.  To have them grown up and living their life a few states away, but then go into a theater and visit with them in this roundabout manner.

So I loved Broadway Idiot.  With my whole heart.  Enough to buy a copy, but only after we got home from the theater because I am a good girl.

And even though it’s not really my favourite sort of music, I will end up with Foreverly too in November.  Mostly because the Wolvog had a huge grin on his face when I played him a song.  I asked him if he knew who was singing, and he shook his head.  And then I told him it was Billie Joe, and he got this look of disbelief on his face, as if I had told him that the pizza he was eating was really made out of cauliflower.  But he decided that he still really liked it because it reminded him of Johnny Cash.

*******

The 2013 Creme de la Creme is trucking along.  There are currently 53 on the list with over a month and a half left to go until the hard deadline (December 15!).  So, are you on the list yet?  Extra love to people who submit early!

*******

And now the blogs…

But first, second helpings of the posts that appeared in the open comment thread last week.  In order to read the description before clicking over, please return to the open thread:

• “My Postpartum Body” (Scrambled Eggs)
• “Pumpkin Competition” (Barrenbetty)
• “The Daisy Effect” (Sweetest in the Gale)

Okay, now my choices this week.

An Unwanted Path has a post about the cool symmetry that happened during the cycle when she conceived her first child, and now the symmetry that is aligning during this cycle to conceive her second child.  Adding my wishes to her wishes that this cycle works because it makes such a cool story.

The Great Big IF has a post about being a square peg trying to fit into the round holes of infertility.  She feels as if she’s reliving 2008, albeit now with a child.  But the emotions are rolling around again.  She writes, “I am sitting here lamenting that I haven’t gotten the chance to pump myself full of hormones. Seriously. Sometimes I wonder what reality I’m sitting in. But it is a reality that has me feeling trapped and hopeless.”  Let’s just say that this post hit very close to home for me, and I’m sending her a hug.

Family Rocks has a post that hit me in the gut about the night before the four year anniversary of her sister’s car accident.  She is currently raising her sister’s children after her death in the accident, and more than the day of the crash itself, it’s the night before — that anticipation — that makes her relive the experience.  It is a very powerful post.

Lastly, Inconceivable has a beautiful post about being unsettled.  Running makes her think, but swimming holds the anxiety at bay while she’s in the pool under the silencing blanket of water.  As she stares down IVF, she writes, “Terrifying, because if IVF with ICSI doesn’t work, we’ll have struck out at the biggest game in town.  I’m not sure how to live here, where there’s not one more bigger, better treatment option on the horizon.  I know even IVF can take more than one cycle, if it ever works.  But if this cycle fails, it will change so much for us.”  But it’s the last line of the post that will get you.

The roundup to the Roundup: Got to see Broadway Idiot this week.  The 2013 Creme de la Creme opened: is your post on the list?  And lots of great posts to read.  So what did you find this week?  Please use a permalink to the blog post (written between October 18th and October 25th) and not the blog’s main url. Not understanding why I’m asking you what you found this week?  Read the original open thread post here.