Back to School....Again

Sonya and I attended our first “Back to School Night” on Thursday at Karsyn’s school. Let me re-phrase that, it was the first “Back to School Night” that we’ve attended as parents on Thursday night.

It’s a lot different being on the parent side of the stick. I figured it would be a lot more pleasant, with a lot less pressure. At least compared to when I was a kid, when every encounter my parents had with a teacher was a potential recipe for disaster. I mean, those teachers tell your parents EVERYTHING. I not-so-fondly remember my parents returning home from teachers conferences. Had my teachers ratted me out?

I figured that now being the parent means that all the pressure is off of me. It’s all on the kid’s shoulders now.

How wrong I was...again. School has changed a lot in 30 years. The pressures related to the things that are expected of children seem to be so much greater than when I went to school.

There are quarterly progress reports that Karsyn will have to go through every two months or so. As the year progresses, so must her comprehension of things that I don’t remember seeing until 2nd or 3rd grade. She must be able to recognize all 26 letters of the alphabet (both upper and lower case), which I think is a pretty tall order for a five year-old.

Am I overreacting here? All I remember from Kindergarten was finger painting, sitting in a circle and reciting the "Pledge of Allegiance". Was there more to it?

I don’t remember being introduced to the alphabet until the 1st grade. She has to have them wrapped up well before then. Sonya points out that this is something she has mastered since pre-school anyway, so I shouldn’t worry. But I do.

I think worrying about my children’s scholastic accomplishments is something that I will never be able to overcome, no matter how well they do in school. I think it’s a compulsion that was past on to my by my dad. Thankfully, he understood the value of education when my sister and I were children, but I can already feel this sense of urgency building. I want her to be better than I am. I want her and her brother to be more successful in school than I was.

Anyway, the expectations are greater it would seem these days. Karsyn has to understand what a period is for (“It keeps the words from running away Daddy,” she tells me.), and when a question mark is used (she’s got that one nailed down already).

Kindergarten just seems a lot tougher, which I hope doesn’t sour the experience. If learning is fun, then learning won’t be a chore. As soon as it becomes a chore, things get dangerous. I can tell you everything I ever learned in the classes that I loved, and next to nothing about the classes that I hated.