PEER PRESSURE WOES

So, I’ve been suffering with a serious case of writer’s block, which is less than pleasant considering that the majority of my job consists of writing.  I was painfully plugging away at an RFP when I received a phone call from the Dean of Students at my daughter’s school a few days ago.  The tale the dean recanted was way too ridiculous to make up, and I’ve decided to share it.  It’s a tale about peer pressure, luckily harmless, but peer pressure requires immediate intervention, none the less, lest it balloon into a more significant issue if left to its own growth pattern.  

  

As I mentioned, I was sitting at my desk, when the phone started ringing.  I wasn’t having a great afternoon, as my creative juices hadn’t been flowing freely for a few days.  I leaned over, glanced at the caller ID and sighed.  No parent likes to receive calls from school in the middle of the day, as it either means that your kid is ill and needs to be picked up early or he or she is in hot water.  Schools never call to wish you a pleasant day or tell you that your kid is a rock star… bummer.  I picked up the call and was greeted by a very tense sounding Dean of Students.  She gave me her obligatory greeting and segued immediately into the reason for her call.  She sounded sketchy and spoke haltingly but I patiently waited as she informed me that Julia was given detention as a result of an “incident” that she witnessed earlier that day in the girl’s bathroom.  She went on to say that she was apologetic that Julia, who had never, ever  been given detention for any reason, was  going to have to attend; but she felt it imperative to send a message that no student is ever exempt from following school rules and adhering to appropriate standards of conduct.  Hmmmm… standard of conduct?  What in the devil did this child do?!??  When I realized that she was rushing through this explanation because she was clearly uncomfortable with having this discussion I stopped her.  I asked, “What exactly did you witness?  What did Julia do to earn herself a stint in detention?”  The dean paused, took a few heavy breaths and proceeded to tell me a tale that almost caused my naturally curly hair to straighten.  She said that she was passing by the girl’s bathroom when she heard what sounded like cheering and clapping.  When she poked her head in to see what the disturbance was all about she witnessed my child, my nine-year-old, academically gifted fifth grader, “way up high… surprisingly high, actually” on a pole in the bathroom!  She stood there long enough to watch Julia wrap her skinny, pre-pubescent leg around said pole and determinedly SLIDE slowly down and around it.  This noteworthy performance apparently caused the dean to blush deeply and caused the other girls in attendance to cheer.  Jesus be a fence!  I was completely speechless, fully unable to find any words to articulate my scattered emotions.  I had shot straight from writer’s block into articulation impaired and was careening into cardiac failure at a breakneck speed!  I was hot and cold and confused and ashamed and frankly I was as angry as hell!    

  

The dean assured me that she’d had a full discussion with Julia, that included Julia bursting into tears and owning up to the whole incident (I mean, how could she deny it?  She was caught red handed!)  Julia asked if there was any way that she could serve detention without informing her mother… fat chance, Cookie!  Anyway, my newly-errant, pre-pubescent child was caught red-handed doing a pole dance in a school bathroom and I could NOT WAIT to speak to her!  Unfortunately, there was early dismissal that day and Julia was en route to her dance class (how ironic) and a pull-up would have to wait.  Sigh…

… 7pm and Julia is seated on my bed, facing me, head bowed as I paced my room like a caged tiger.  “What in the HEYELL could have possessed you?  What in the universe could you have been thinking?” I asked, not so calmly.  Julia turned her little angelic face towards me, with huge, teary, doe-eyes and simply said, “But mama, I had to do it.  A sixth grader challenged me!  You know how competitive I am and she said I couldn’t do it.  Then she climbed the pole and slid down herself!”

 

Huh?  Well thankfully this behavior was learned and not self-initiated, but HWHAT in the HEYELL?!??  Then my little doe-eyed child stood up and folded her skinny arms across her birdlike chest and said, in a strong voice that contradicted the tears threatening to spill from her eyes, “Mama she was obese!  There was not a chance I could let her think that I couldn’t do something that she could do… even her ankles are fat!!”  Julia dissolved into tears and I walked out of my bedroom to process (and laugh... don’t you dare judge me).  I needed a shot of tequila but settled instead for a glass of sauvignon blanc and marched back up the stairs to address my daughter and her faulty thinking.  God doesn’t give you more than you can bear, but I wasn’t sure I was ready to bear having to talk to my 9-year-old daughter about pole dancing.  Ay Dios!

 

I began with the whole… “she was obese” thing.  I explained that her description of the sixth grader was rude and unkind, and covered why it was unacceptable to label people.  I spent a significant amount of time on the hazards of falling victim to peer pressure and used detention to illustrate how there are negative consequences to being a follower.  This point took a while to sink in because Julia disagreed that she was following, but accepted the sixth grader's challenge willingly… I stayed on script.  I eventually segued into how I was disappointed that my daughter was caught by a school administrator doing a pole dance and how this reflected poorly on our “team”.  Through our conversation, I recognized that Julia viewed this as a purely physical challenge and not a display of seductive behavior.  (Thank God for small favors.)  Still she understood what lens she could have been viewed through.  All in all a pretty upsetting incident led us into a very productive conversation.

 

I had a few questions though.  I asked Julia if the pole was a steam pipe?  Because if it was, wasn’t it hot, and shouldn’t it have been too close to the wall to climb?  Julia said it wasn’t a steam pipe and was in the middle of the bathroom?!??  What?  Can someone please tell me why there is a pole in the middle of the girl’s bathroom?  That’s like an invitation, no?  I recognize that that’s not an excuse for her pole dancing extravaganza.  There could be a double-hump dromedary in the bathroom and I would no more expect her to ride it; although, at this point I wouldn't be surprised, but I’m just sayin’… why?

Peer pressure is unfortunately a fact of every kid’s life and this becomes heightened during the teen years when the opinion of one’s peers is more significant than the opinion of one’s parents.  No matter how popular your kid is, how well liked your kid may be or how together they might feel, sooner or later they’ll have to face peer pressure.  Whether it is pressure to conform to a group norm or pressure to act a certain way, peer pressure is something everybody has to deal with at some time in their life.  How successfully they handle peer pressure depends a great deal on how they feel about themselves and their place in the world.  When peer pressure kicks into high gear it becomes easy to get caught up in the moment and forget about consequences.  We, as parents, have to be relentless in our attempts to build esteem and empower our kids.  We must build character and instill core values.  In this way, hopefully they will always stand up for what they think is right no matter who feels differently.  It’s a difficult line to walk though.  Kids need to learn how to be assertive without becoming preachy or self-righteous.  If they are ostracized because their methods have them standing on a soap box while they're standing their ground the pressure to conform may be heightened and kids have a strong need to belong.  Alas, we must teach our kids to be WayBeyondZ leaders not followers.

 

“I’m not in this world to live up to your expectations and you’re not in this world to live up to mine.”

― Bruce Lee

SUBWAY SURFER

School is back in session and my year long fight to rescue my son from a charter school that was unfortunately unable, and worse yet, unwilling to teach my non-cognitively-impaired but profoundly dyslexic child in a way that he could succeed academically, has finally paid off!  I need my son to not just succeed, but succeed in a way that would bolster, not strip, his fragile, pre-adolescent self-esteem and ensure that his full on, in-living-color sense of humor and vibrant curiosity could also flourish unencumbered by thoughts of “impending doom and imminent failure” (his phrase, not mine).  Jordan is officially a Winston Preparatory School student!

 

This is an amazing place where class sizes are small and individualized education is common practice.  Jordan is free to express himself and explore and stretch the bounds of his curiosity without reproach and ask questions without the fear of embarrassment.  Go Jordan!  When choosing this school I did realize that the distance between my kids’ schools would be great and that I would be solely responsible for ensuring that they arrive at their respective schools on time and in one piece; it all sounded so doable in theory.  What I didn’t realize was that the wildcard would be the NYC transit system upon which I rely.  Not to mention the throng of people who also rely on the rails and could care less about two 4’7” kids trying to get to school.

 

Typical morning this week included racing out of my house at 7:15am with Jordan and Julia in tow for the two and a half block walk to the subway.  Julia chatted the entire way and Jordan grumbled about a tag in his shirt that was bothersome… I tuned them out.  We get there and Julia has to swipe her metro card no less than seven (yes seven) times before she gains entry.  Jordan grumbled about being late because of Julia’s metro card troubles… I tapped my foot and continued to tune them out.  We sprint down the stairs just in time to watch the doors on the #6 train slide closed with us on the wrong side.  Julia argued with Jordan about whose fault it was that we missed the train… and you guessed it, I completely tuned them out.  We wait another three minutes for the next train and cram ourselves in beside the woman who thought it was a fabulous idea to transport her Schnauzer, named Wilson (we know this because Julia is magnetically drawn to any four legged furry creature), and her 6 foot tall Monstera plant during rush hour.  Wilson, who is obviously accustomed to travelling by train, was completely content to lick the lotion from my kneecaps while being pet by my aspiring veterinarian, Julia.  Woosah!  I get off the train on the UES and walk Julia a block to school, get jostled by random scholars and head back to the #6 train to continue on my journey to my next destination, in Chelsea.

 

Train ride number two isn’t bad; just crowded, as is the norm.  Jordan spent the entire ride complaining about the weight of his book bag and his inability to sit (why did he even think this was an option).  The ride to Chelsea and subsequent sprint across town isn’t really bad either because the weather is still mild (I’m not looking forward to doing this during the winter).  Unfortunately, by this time I’m a little over the whole morning commute and wondering if it’s too early for a glass of good port.  We arrive at school and I kiss my kid goodbye, much to his horror, and back to the subway for the last leg of my commute.  Oh Joy!  This is where my morning gets interesting.  I had a Carrie Bradshaw moment walking down the subway steps, got my heel caught and stumbled the entire flight of stairs hanging onto the back of a very kind gentleman who had no idea what hit him and why a woman had suddenly decided on a piggyback ride… and he was the identified piggy.  Can you say horrified?  That episode ended with me profusely apologizing (wearing only one shoe) and causing my savior to miss his train.  True to New Yorker form, he was gracious but not a happy camper.  Meanwhile, I’m back at the top of the stairs (still wearing only one shoe) trying to wrench the tip of my heel out of a crack without damaging the leather, which was no simple feat!  That crisis resolved, I walked down the stairs, on my own accord this time, and boarded train #3 to work only to realize when I arrived (at 08:30am mind you) that I’d been giving a peep show to the fine citizenry of Manhattan.  My dress was almost fully unzipped!  I knew I felt a breeze…

I was raised by a single mother who made a way for me.  She used to scrub floors as a domestic worker, put a cleaning rag in her pocketbook and ride the subways in Brooklyn so I would have food on the table.  But she taught me as I walked her to the subway that life is about not where you start, but where you’re going.  That’s family values.

~Al Sharpton

THIS JUST ISN'T THE RIGHT FIT... But what is?

So, you all are aware by now that I have a dyslexic son.  You are also aware that he’s had a very difficult time being successful in school due to a number of reasons that have converged at the worst possible time, least of which is the burgeoning onset of puberty and the development of a lasting self-image combined with the loss of a consistent role model.  The majority of the problem sets squarely on the fact that Jordan has been in a school that just isn’t the right fit.  

Children’s bodies, minds, emotions and spirits combine to make unique individuals, and it is the responsibility of us, as parents, to ensure that as with anything else, the school fits the child and not the other way around.  This mix affects the kind of environment in which each child learns best.  After all, when you think of it, schools aren’t any more “one size fits all” than a pair of shoes or pants.  Unfortunately, we seem to spend more time and effort evaluating our cars and appliances than appraising the quality of our children’s schools.   

    

When considering a school the question boils down to the following:  which qualities, in their unique combination within your child, really matter for choosing a school?  Which of your child's strengths will assist him in with meshing with certain teachers, peers and expected ways of learning?  Which of your child's weaknesses can be addressed at school, and which cannot?  When your child's and family's needs fit well with what your child's school offers, you can then say that you have found a great fit!  Until then… keep looking. 

Fortunately, there are a number of characteristics that come to mind in terms of finding that “great fit”.   Not every characteristic is important for matching every child to the right school. You'll need to decide which ones are really important for your family. Most children and families will have only a small number of characteristics that are top priorities for selecting a school.  For me, the choice boils down to how my child learns and how the school is able to accommodate his learning style and learning accommodations and services. 

• What Your Child Learns:  These are aspects of your child that affect what subjects and at what level of difficulty your child should be taught at school.  These include your child's basic learning capability, other capabilities, and interests.
• How Your Child Learns:  This is a biggie!  These are aspects of your child that affect how a school should teach and interact with your child both in and outside of the classroom.  These include your child's learning styles, motivation, physical and mental health challenges, behavior challenges, learning disabilities and disorders, and self-understanding.
• Social Issues:  This includes the need for social contact with particular friends from the child's perspective.
• Practical Matters:  This includes essential extracurricular activities that may be compelling choice factors for some children.

Good luck on your journeys as you search for the right academic environments for your most precious gifts.  My journey is exhausting and seems endless, but I promised my son that I will go Way Beyond Z on his behalf... so the trek continues.  Have a Way Beyond Z Day!