I Hate Kindergarten!

The new school year is nearly upon us, and I admit, I'm feeling a bit more dread than the kids are.

Last year was Kamrin's first year at "real school." Around this area, kindergartners are rounded up, and placed in one building. Five hundred 5 year olds? What could possibly go wrong?

I was hopeful for Kam. He was very social, had no problems to talking to people, and he was excited to go. For about 2 weeks.

But I should've known when Kam and I met the teacher at open house, it wasn't going to be a good fit. We walked through the door and introduced ourselves, and that was it. She didn't talk to Kam, but rather looked toward the door for the next parent to greet. On our way out, she didn't remember his name. Now don't get me wrong, there are some AWESOME teachers out there, I had some myself, but she was young, and I didn't get the feeling that she loved what she was doing.

Kamrin is a special kid. I mean that in many ways. He started talking early and hasn't quit since. He can't sit still. There are few things that will keep him focused. And he's not for the faint of heart with all that energy he has pent up inside him.

Color charts suck. I hate them. This teacher had hers pinned to the board at the front of the room. For those of you who aren't familiar, a child starts out (in our case) on green. If you don't behave, you are "pinned down" to subsequent other colors...blue, purple, and the dreaded pink. If you do well, you "pin up" to yellow, orange and the coveted red. If you made it to red, you got special privileges. It's a form of public humiliation if you ask me. Oh sure. If you have that perfect kid, you'll argue that it's a good way to get kids to WANT to behave. But to Kam it was a label. He was constantly being asked to clip down. He tried so hard. I tried not to make a big deal about it. His first words to me when I picked him up after school usually involved what color he was on at the end of the day. I went as far as telling him that "it didn't matter to me what color he was on as long as he tried his best." A good day for us was when he managed to stay on the color he started on.

They had a calendar in their school folders that were brought home every day. In them, a circle was colored in with the color corresponding to where they were that day. The things that Kam gotten pinned down for were trivial. Humming in class (which he does when he knows he's not supposed to talk), not coming back from the bathroom on time (really? since when do 5 year olds know how long 10 minutes is?), not keeping his hands to himself (he likes to hug). Typical behavior of a hyper-active little boy. She would always write a note by the 'bad' colors, but once, when he reached yellow...there was nothing. So I wrote, "GOOD JOB KAM!" No positive feedback.

Unfortunately, this meant that ALL the teachers and the principal knew who he was. He was a behavior problem. And if something went wrong in the lunch line, they looked for Kam.

And the kids that made it to red? They were allowed to clip other kids down. Want to set kids up for being tyrants? That's the way to do it.

Since the clothes pins on the color chart had the kids' names on them, everyone in the class (and parents too!) would know who was constantly being "bad."

Don't get me wrong. Kamrin had a hard time adjusting. In his world, things are black and white. He knew what the rules were at school and he did his best to follow them. When he corrected a friend for getting out of line, and they pushed him, Kamrin got in trouble for trying to pull that kid back in line. He didn't understand why he was being punished for what he thought was doing the right thing, by a teacher who was the authority figure. He didn't handle it well. He would run and hide. 2 times, it wasn't in the classroom and an all out search was required. Didn't sit well with his teacher. She referred him to a counselor for 'anger management.'

Her solution? Tape a chart, on the TOP of his desk, giving him options to "cool down" instead of running. Another label. No other child had this taped to their desk. Singled out again.

One thing I noticed was that Kamrin's work that came home from school was sloppy. On the back of each page were elaborate pictures. Ones that he drew. Unfortunately, most consisted of zombies, or people with guns. More fodder for the counselor. By the way, the work was sloppy, but it was correct.

He once brought home a 12 page booklet, pages front and back consisted of pictures with 3 boxes under each picture. The home work was for the parent to cut letters out, then give them some to choose from, so the could write what the picture was. Parents were encouraged to give them a hint and provide the first letter. So I cut out all the letters, and tried to persuade Kam to participate in completing the home work. He absolutely refused. It wasn't due for a few weeks, so I told him no Sponge Bob until we did at least three. Well, that lit a fire. He sat down, pencil in hand, and looked at the first page. He completely ignored the pile of cut out letters, and started writing. He wrote the name of every. single. picture. On all 12 pages. In 10 minutes. He missed one, "yak." I don't think I know a 5 year old that knows what a yak is.

I emailed his teacher on several occasions. She basically told me that she didn't have the time to give Kam "special attention." At conferences, when she pointed out his sloppy work, and told me that Kamrin will sit and draw until until she tells him that he has to get it done or risk being clipped down. At that point, he'll flip it over and blaze through it. Boredom? I think so. I pointed out to her, that it was all correctly done, even if it was sloppy.

It broke my heart to drop him off at school, shoulders slumped and feet dragging. He was a trooper though.

The last straw was when I received an email from the principal telling me that Kam had 'gauged' a fellow student in the arm with a pencil. What?! That wasn't my good-hearted Kam. I asked Kamrin what had happened. He told me that he was sharpening his pencil and the as he was finishing, the kid behind him pushed him, so when he turned around (sharpened pencil in hand) he 'scraped him' (his words). I went to the principal, fully expecting to have to meet with this kids' parents. I asked him if the kid was okay. He informed me that the child was fine. Didn't even need a band aid. So I said that I didn't consider that a gouge, more like an abrasion. I also found out that since they didn't actually SEE the other kid push Kamrin, they couldn't punish THAT kid. So apparently, until my child is pushed and suffers injury, he will not be believed.

I finally decided to have Kam tested. My mind was thinking everything, hyper-activity, autism, just something to explain why he couldn't relate to school. And then I found the school psychologist. I love her. Mostly because she loves Kam. It turns out that Kamrin can't focus because he takes in everything.

Here's how she explained it to me. When you or I are talking to someone, we are looking at them and hearing them. Kam does that too, but he's also very aware of how his butt is sitting on the chair, feels his arms on the table, ingests everything that goes on in the background of the person. He is bombarded with information and can't filter it out. This information overload causes him to become distracted. (I'm sure the humming sometimes acts as his filter.)

They decided to try 'sensory breaks.' Apparently Kamrin isn't the only one with problems. These breaks allow him to leave the classroom for 10 minutes a day, and spend some time with his counselor, just doing calming activities. Like filling jugs with sand, playing with texture oriented toys, or swinging. It seemed to help. The psychologist also suggested that Kamring be tested to see if he needs to have more advanced learning, as he seems to be bored in class.

This discovery came within the last 2 months of school, and it seemed to be working. But now we have the transition to 1st grade. He has to ride a bus. THAT could be interesting. I'm hoping his teacher will be able to 'tune in' to him more.

Now that this rant is incredibly huge, I also want to add that I find it sad that we herd our young students through the system. Can't slow down for some, can't speed up for others. This has become my slogan.



Get rid of these stupid charts. Or make them more private. Quit labeling my child, and making him believe he's a failure because he doesn't make it to "red." His best was yellow, and I'm proud of him. I'm color blind.

Monster Mom

We had a surprise retirement for my dad this past weekend and had decided to make the 5.5 hour drive (give or take...mostly give) home to be there. There were several moments that I almost gave it away in my blog before reminding myself that my dad has my blog downloaded to his Kindle and made the necessary edits. We were supposed to leave Thursday, as the party was Friday night, but hubby's job proved to be a little more time consuming than expected so we left Friday morning...early.

I hate this trip. Just the driving part. (Here's why.) At least I had hubby with me this time. Things should go easier. We stopped and filled the gas tank (heart attack and a whole other blog-rant when I get a chance). We needed to be there in time to unpack, change clothes and get to the party without Kaiden spilling the beans. We were making pretty good time, but it was exceptionally windy and Kaiden's bladder forced us to stop 4 TIMES, and usually right after we passed a rest stop. Each dirt road pit stop we made, I had to get out with him to check wind direction and point him the right way. Thank goodness for boys!

I had been telling Kaiden that we were 'going out to eat' with Papa and Grammie in hopes of keeping the secret. But after we arrived and had changed clothes, Kaiden's lightbulb went on. He caught me in front of the bathroom mirror, "Mom, when is Papa's party?" I proceeded to tell him that it was that night, but we were PRETENDING to go out to eat. I also warned him not to tell Kamrin, because he certainly would not keep a secret. The entire time before leaving the house, Kaiden kept reiterating how he just "couldn't wait to GO OUT TO EAT (wink, wink)." We took separate cars. If the kids acted up, Shawn would take them back to the house.

Long story short, I thought Kaiden was going to blow the whole thing when we entered the restaurant and were headed up the stairs, prominently labeled 'Private Party Room.' My mother had told my dad that we had special permission to eat up there because of the boys (and if you know my boys, this reasoning seems perfectly acceptable), but Kaiden can read. He saw the sign and grabbed Grammie's arm, pointed to the sign and gave her the thumbs up signal. The party was a success, my dad was completely surprised and the kids were behaved. In fact, at the end of the night, the waitress said how well the boys did, and I looked over my shoulder to make sure she was talking to me. Of course, Shawn made a quick escape shortly after dinner so who knows how the night could have ended up?

They were well behaved...that night, but it was downhill from there. The 70º Friday turned into a freezing, gale-forced wind with snow (yes, I said snow) nightmare. We were stuck inside. Shawn actually attempted fishing (true sportsmanship), but couldn't even tell if he had a bite with the amount of wind (so he tells me). The boys fought about EVERYTHING...who was player one on the Wii, whose markers were whose, who got to sit where and whose glass of water that was. It was exhausting. When constantly reminding them of the consequences of their bad behavior, I was met with, "I didn't do anything!" even though I was sitting right there and watched them do it. We decided to leave Kam with Papa while Grammie, Kaiden and I, went grocery shopping. He insisted on pushing the cart and our 10 minute shopping trip turned into 30. Mom and I uncorked the first bottle of wine when we got back.

They fought over the movie to watch. Grammie tried to coax Kaiden into reading her a book. He insisted that he read to only Shawn or I (and Grammie was the only one NOT watching the movie). She thought it would be fun to give the boys a bath in the jacuzzi tub, which is very similar to bathing in Cool-Whip. Suds were everywhere.  They had decided to 'swim' and created tidal waves large enough to spill over the sides. There was a small pool of water on the floor, and the walls had acquired a new white, poofy, polka-dot pattern. While Grammie scurried to wipe up the mess, I shuttled the boys from tub to shower to rinse them of there bubbly hair-dos and beards.

Dried off and smelling like lavender, it was finally bedtime. This seems to be a special bonding time for my mom and it all sounds perfect, until you actually go to bed. Grammie is a light sleeper, like myself, and every toss and turn, slap in the face and leg tossing no matter how large the bed, will have you reaching for the light. Needless to say, Grammie didn't get any sleep.

My mother also wanted to go to church the next morning. I don't enjoy this either. (Here's why.) She insisted that she would be able to take the boys without me. Right.  First, she has to help my dad (who suffered from a stroke and needs assistance) and then to deal with MY two boys...again...riiight. Secondly, I know my mom, and if I didn't go, she has the gift of passive aggressiveness. I know. I have inherited this trait. And my last few hours would be painfully strained. So we go to church. The fighting begins. The boys notice I am chewing gum and insist on having some. 'Insist' being the nice way of saying 'crying, pounding fists and trying to reach their hands in to my pockets'. I cave. On the condition that if it even ONCE leaves their mouth, they are to forfeit aforementioned gum. They agree. Not ten minutes into the service, Kam has a string of strawberry gum linked from his mouth to the tip of the pencil provided in the church pews. Amazing. Kaiden complains he's bored and asks me every two minutes if, 'we're done yet.' Oh joy, we have communion this service as well. Nice leg-stretcher for the boys. My mother takes my dad's arm and navigates him as I herd the boys and keep them moving forward. The pastor hands out the sacrament to the adults and as Kam is passed by, he loudly proclaims, "Heeyyy! Where's mine?!" And Kaiden, who has not mastered the art of whispering says, "Are you really drinking blood?"

My parents decided to meet their breakfast group after church. The ladies at my end of the table try to reassure me that they are grandmas too and I shouldn't be uptight, as they have seen it all. Bless their hearts. But it's always different in hindsight where you can laugh about things than when it's actually happening. While paying the bill, my youngest ran off and I nearly had a panic attack wondering where he was. Never mind the fact that I should have been astounded that he left the building and was able to locate my parent's car in the parking lot...by himself! I had to restrain myself from throttling him in front of my parent's friends.

The trip back to Fargo was miserable.  The fighting, the decibel level of their voices, the repeating of the word "fart" over and over again followed by insatiable giggles was more than I could take. They had been warned several times and my jaw hurt from me gritting my teeth. They were too hot, then too cold. I rigged blankets in their windows to block the sun. They punched, pinched and kicked one another. They kicked the back of my chair, played with the windows and got marker on my car seat. They threw pieces of wadded up paper at each other and thought it was hilarious to have a burping contest. Enough was enough. When asked if we could stop for something to eat, I said a resounding, "NO!!" I was then informed that they, 'wanted different parents!' (Hear blood boil and clenching of fists). I swelled to twice my size, I actually took my seatbelt off to turn around and explode, "You want new parents?! Fine!! I'll have your dad pull over right here and you can stand by the side of the road. But with your behavior, no one will want you!!" Yep. That was me. I actually said that. Shawn shot me a sideways glance which told me it was too much but he wasn't about to touch that.

An hour later (and also only an hour away from our destination), they looked like this:

This couldn't happen sooner?!

And guiltily, I thought, "How could I have been so mean? It's a 5 1/2 hour trip and they're young. I've probably damaged them for life. Did my parents ever say things like that to me and my brother? Maybe, but I don't remember. Is that a good thing?" It must not have had an everlasting impact, as they were back to fighting the minute we walked into the house.

The only comfort I have is reading other blogs and know that I'm not alone. We all have weak moments. And I am truly grateful for that knowledge.