Why I Love Free-Range Kids, Part 1

The other day one of my second grade students approached me with a minor complaint. I offered her sympathy. She continued to stare at me with expectation. A bit unnerved, I asked her what she was going to do then. She shrugged and repeated the complaint. At this point I realized she had no intention of fixing the problem, one that she was perfectly capable of solving. Or perhaps, she wasn't capable, as she was waiting for me, the teacher, to fix it.

This girl was far from the only one in the class. Another day another girl came to me, clearly ill. I replied with I thought were logical options: she might run to the bathroom if she felt she would throw up and/or she might go to the office to call her mother. The child told me four times she felt sick. After my responses, she would burst into tears and go to her seat. The fourth time, I lost my cool with her and my awesome aide dragged her to the office.

So I ask myself, what is wrong with children today that makes them so... horrible at taking care of themselves?

Thus, I make this post a devotion to my love of the Free-Range Kids philosophy. Some years ago, Lenore Skenazy, a writer, let her young boy go on the subway home by himself. She was hung up by her figurative toenails by parents of America, but her actions also started a movement.

Here are the main ideas I take from this child-rearing philosophy:

• This world isn't nearly as dangerous and scary as we make it out to be. In fact, the numbers show it's safer than it's been in about fifty years.
• Kids are perfectly capable of acting their age.
• We need to stop lowering the expectations of "acting one's age".
• Community is important. Love and trust your neighbors.

 I wasn't a mom when I first heard of Son Skenazy's subway trip, but it impressed me. I figured, "why not?" When my beloved Amazon Vine program offered a copy of Lenore's book Free-Range Kids, I jumped at the opportunity to read an advance copy. Shortly thereafter, I began following, rather faithfully, her blog (linked above).

Free-Range Kids as altered my view of child-raising even before I had Ruby. Looking back at my own child-hood, I was a wuss. I was scared of riding my bike very far. Yes, that's what made me a wuss. I was scared to ride my bike in unknown territories three blocks away in my quiet small town. Never mind that we played in the little woods down the street pretty much everyday. Never mind that we road our bikes around the familiar neighborhood all the time. Never mind that since before I can remember, visiting my grandmother meant climbing down the big weed infested hill behind her house and walking two miles to a park. All without adults. I thought I was a wuss.

Never mind that we took care of ourselves to a degree. I knew how to do laundry from a young age. I knew how to clean much of the house. I knew how to fix basic meals. I knew how to babysit my younger siblings.

Free-Range Kids taught me this was a fairly normal childhood.

Free-Range Kids taught me that yes, I was right to think it weird when my mother's 11-year-old piano student who lived around the corner (with no streets to cross) called her mom to come get her rather than walk home.

Free-Range Kids taught me that it is okay to follow my grandmother's wisdom of "never do what a child what he can do for himself".

Free-Range Kids taught me that I do not need to interfere every time students get in an argument with each other. Free-Range Kids taught me it's okay to let them play mildly-risky games on the playground.

Free-Range Kids taught me it's okay to expect second-graders to fulfill basic projects.

Free-Range Kids has encouraged me to make part of my teaching a lesson in taking care of one's self and getting these done as far as one can handle. My job as a teacher and a mother is to teach skill-building and courage.

Thank-you, Lenore and Free-Range Kids.

Later on, I will write another post on the spiritual applications of Free-Range Kids philosophy.

I am a teacher and I do not work ridiculously long hours

They say confession is good for the soul, so there, I said it.  I have betrayed each and every single one of my hard-working fellow teachers and their places in the popular lore of teachers working long into the night and sleeping at their schools over the weekend.  But I'm not part of this lore:  because I do not work ridiculously long hours.

And I have met one teacher who does.  One.  She won a Teacher of the Year award at our charter school conference earlier this summer.  Apparently she has no life.  A fair thing to say?  Probably not. I am not her, I do not have the value balance she does. If her No. 1 priority is devoting her life to teaching and she is happy and fulfilled, I have no complaint.  But she is the exception in the teachers I have personally met, because the rest of them don't seem to work ridiculously long hours, either. 

Yet, despite research to the contrary, the myth continues.  The internet is full of teachers declaring their 60-plus-hour workweeks.  While I imagine some of them are just full of it, sure, some may be legit.  But the teachers posting these comments on the internet is hardly the greatest example set:  the teachers who don't work over sixty hours a week aren't going to be on the web declaring it, so I'm willing to be they are still a minority.

I can only speak for myself and my own experience, of course. I teach second grade. I do not teach high school or college English and find myself drowning in essays to read and grade every night.  If that is a teacher's situations, hey, that's his situation.  But just because some teachers work super late does not mean I ought to be held to the same expectation.

Why I Don't Work Ridiculously Long Hours

I don't want to.

There.  Another confession. But I think it's straight to the point.  I don't want to work well into the night at my teaching profession.  I consider myself passionate about teaching, but not passionate enough to make it my life.  At the end of the day, I want to go home and see my husband and play with my daughter Ruby.  I want to read a book, write a bit, maybe play a game. 

When I first started teaching, I was single.  I didn't have much else to do.  So I would enter the school as soon as the janitor would leave me in and stay until the teenage custodial staff kicked me out.  Not every night, but a fair number of days.  As a new teacher, I did have that much extra work to do, but not nearly enough to justify dawdling at the school.  Of course, it was fine then. I was happy staying at the school, doing random bits of preparation. 

But I don't want to anymore.

And I think I'm a better teacher now.

I don't need to.

Like I said, my earlier years of teaching had those moments of new teacher preparation of necessity, but a lot of my extra hours were "just because."  I'm a bit more mentally prepared now, more efficient at planning, and more comfortable in my lack of cutesiness.

Plus, my current school loves technology and this year adjusted our prep time into actual usefulness.

We have ipads  and Apple tvs and computers.  I can throw stuff up on the screen rather than making copies of each child.  We can run drills and flashcards and heaven knows what else up that handy screen. 

And now that I have a whole hours of prep time in the middle of the day each day, I can get stuff done.

This is all before mentioning I'm finally utilizing the second grade teaching aids. 

This isn't to say I don't like to come a bit early (I work best in the morning) or that I still don't linger now and then.  Stuff happens.  The requirements of class prep ebb and flow.  But with the encouragement of fast-prep technology and that awesome prep hour, I can't see many days when I simply must spend twelve hours working.

My family is more important.

I heard a statistic once that divorce rates among teachers is high.  A little research gave mixed results, but the notion sure goes well with the Legend of the Eternally Working Teacher.  Sure, our society is infamous for negging on teachers, but I also think we have a fair population that worships teachers and celebrates them as martyrs. 

The lore is that teachers put their students first.  Their hearts encompass those struggling angels and they give their all to them. 

Well, sure, working for your students' behalf is part of teaching.  If you don't love kids, get out of the profession.  But while I'm theoretically sacrificing my time for someone's else's kid, who is sacrificing her time for Ruby?

It's my job as Ruby's mother to put her first.  Society is not going to improve because I ignore one child for another.  No matter how much a student needs me, Ruby needs me more and it's my God-given responsibility to be there for her. 

My contract doesn't require it

Another harsh fact, yes.  But I do believe that going above and beyond is professional.  Teachers are generally paid via salary, not wages. That is, they are paid for the job, not necessarily the shift.  If doing quality work and helping out means going a bit beyond official contract hours, that is what needs to be done.  However, there is a limit.  If a teacher is regularly having to work overtime to complete basic needs, required hours and pay needs to be reevaluated (or a teacher fired, because if you can't do your basic teaching needs in a reasonable amount of time...)

I think my contract is fair.  I think I can be a good teacher without going eternities beyond the hours.

Parts of society loves the Legend of the Eternally Working Teacher.  But let's be honest: it's stupid to assign somebody so many hours with the assumption they will work far more hours. 

Society:  "You didn't work seventy hours this week!"

Teacher:  "You only put forty hours in my contract..."

Society:  "That's because we only want to pay for forty hours!"

This is part of what disgusts me most about the Legend of the Eternally Working Teacher: the expectation that teachers should work ridiculously long hours.  I am a laborer worthy of my hire.  I should be paid for my job.

If my principal and the board expected me to work longer hours, well, they would have put those hours in my contract.

I'm not cutesy.

Again, I have only met one person who works the legendary twelve-hour days in teaching. But I hear about more.  Sure, that includes those grading piles of papers, but on the elementary school level I think those intense workers are generally being just cute.  Which is fine for them if it makes them happy.

You see, I find that a high majority of people who work significantly overtime are doing so just because they can.  Make the cutest papers.  Decorate the classroom.  Make the most Pinterest-worthy anchor charts.

Forget that. 

I write on blank cards, throw Expo marker on the board, download ready-made worksheets, and indulge in the awesome technology at my fingertips. 

I also use curriculum.

Yes, that's right.  I like the reading curriculum we happen to have.  It fits the core nicely, it lets me expand, and it includes most everything. 

Because I'm not cutesy enough to make my own lesson plans for every little lesson.


The Legend of the Eternally Working Teacher is outdated, unfair, and stupid.

Once society felt that a single woman teacher should quit teaching when she married.  So if she wasn't married, she was devoted to her classroom.  I don't consider myself to be a feminist more than any modern woman is a feminist, but haven't women come along farther than that? We can't have lives outside our career?

The aforementioned technology has done wonders. We can share ideas with a quick Google search.  So much is at our fingertips.

For the unfair statement, I realize that plenty of other professions have similar lore about working over time which may or may not be true.  But no where does it seem to be idolized like it is in the education system.  Society loves the idea of teachers working 24/7 for the students.  It's romantic, it's caring, it speaks hope of the future of our children.  And according to those teachers on the internet declaring their long work days, some teachers are also enchanted with the notion.

Which leads to the danger of assuming that any teacher not working eighty hours a week is a bad teacher. 

So let me get this straight:  a teacher can work for ten hours on a lesson, flub it up, have the students learn nothing, and still be an infinitely better teacher than the one who spends a reasonable amount of time preparing a lesson, presents it efficiently, and teaches students?  So the means justify the ends?

As for stupid, well, that should be obvious.  Teachers have lives and families and friends and hobbies.  Without getting political, why should teachers give that up for no extra pay just so they can look good to society, fellow teachers, and whomever?

I just don't see a reason to regularly work long hours.  I feel excitement about teaching.  I enjoy it.  I am willing to give time to my teaching.  I feel good about my ability to teach.  But I will never, ever believe I should work long hours simply for the sake of working long hours. 

It's about the teaching, not the hours I can claim.

Summer ends and school looms ahead...

The other day I happened to glance at my calendar and realize I had not two but one week of summer left before school starts up again.  This does fit with the quiet longing in my soul for the harvest (Utah's Fruit Way is about to enter its glory season) and I'm excited to get back and start my own classroom from scratch instead of finishing up a final quarter.

But... it's been a good summer.  We bought season passes to Lagoon (a local amusement park), I played with Ruby, I lazed about and did nothing, we even bought our first house (hooray!)

My husband Layne is ready to take over the day-time dad routine, but part of me still yearns to be a stay-at-home mom as much as I enjoy working.  Perhaps that day will come, but I have second graders to teach and all that good stuff.

And it is good stuff.  Which begs the question, do I really want to be a stay-at-home mom someday? 

Yes, yes I do.  And preferably before Ruby and any future kids are in school

Showing love and support for those struggling... what does it look like?

Yes, another rambling of thoughts on the Ordain Women stuff and the recent excommunications.  I'm ready for the drama to die down, though apparently not ready to help it do so.  Another question remains with me...

I've seen a plethora of blog posts, videos, and the like regarding showing understanding and love.  Don't hate these people, don't be malicious to them.  Love them, support them, listen to them.

Which sounds all well and good.  In spite of everything else I think and feel in regards to these groups and past incidents, I whole-heartedly believe we should love them and be compassionate.

Except I haven't the foggiest idea what it looks like.  Oh, the loving part is easy enough. These are my brothers and sisters.  I will love them and pray for them.  Until any of them personally get in my face, I harbor no ill will.

But all these requests for compassion and understanding fail on one big question of mine:  What the heck does it mean to be compassionate and understanding?

I'm a teacher.  In order to assess something, I have to have a clear idea of what I'm looking for. Hence the aforementioned "What does it look like?"

Every blog I've read urging us to show compassion (often written by people who state they "don't agree with these people) has comments criticizing their lack of understanding in these movements.

Apparently, championing niceties  isn't enough. 

Here's what we need to figure out:

1. How do we show compassion while standing true to our own differing beliefs?
2. How do we seek to understand them if we have no intention of changing our minds?
3. What do we do if our remarks of "I want to be nice to you!" don't work?  (Because, we haven't changed our minds.)

Yes, I'm sure there are individuals who are plenty happy with us reaching out and saying "I still love you even if I disagree".  But it would seem these movements as a whole want conversion.

So until I get specific and detailed advice on how to show compassion, I'm going to let my lack of non-hated be enough.

Renewing an expired teaching license

So I had a rough deal when I my teaching contract was not renewed.  I was on a provisional three-year license that was about up and my principal wasn't up for signing my requirements page for license upgrade.  And, according to the Utah State Office of Education, I had to apply for the Level 2 license.

However, there was a twist.

I could apply to get a one year extension.  Or, in my eventual case of four years later, I could just get a one-year deal on the Level 1 license all over again.

The process?  I just had to have a school to hire and vouch for me.  The USOE's website had a form, my new principal and I filled it out together, we submitted it with a bit of a fee, and I'm good for another year to finish my license stuff. 

Yay!

A few notes if you're in this situation:

• You need to have your background check done, so keep that accurate.
• You will probably also have a few other hoops.

But wow, it was easier than I had hoped.

Changing the LDS Church: How 'bout we not?

Today I break away from my express purpose of this blog to tackle a bit of something on that whole Mormon feminist drama taking place.  Groups such as Mormon Women Stand and Ordain Women are begging for both voice and ordination.  John Dehlin and Kate Kelly are up for disciplinary councils.  Across all this lies the spectrum of sympathy, ranging from staunch "The Church, Prophet, and Tradition say this" to that free-spirited desire for equality and significant change on all fronts.  This is gross and cruel over-simplification, but it seems one end is for the brainwashed old-timers and the other is for the crazy heretics.  Heaven help you if your view falls somewhere in the middle, where you're just a wishy-washy non-commit.

Where do I stand?  I must confess I'm on the former end with the brainwashed anti-feminist freaks.  Greetings from the dark side. 

Why am I here?  Is it due to fear of oppression from the LDS Church?  Is it a deep-set hated of all things feminist?  Am I unenlightened? 

I'll give the usual answers.  Yes, I believe the priesthood ordination is not for women at this time.  Yes, I think women's roles and natures are different.  Yes, I want to honor instructions and views from Church leaders.

But there is another reason:  I just don't get the other need.

Truth be told, I'm probably not necessarily an orthodox Mormon.  I don't think I'm wildly unorthodox.  Without going into too much detail, suffice it to say I'm more about the personal spiritual journey.  I've said before that I hate all organized religion except the LDS Church.

I love the Church.  I love all that it has done for me.  I love the doctrine and find it sensible.  I believe in it.  I even enjoy the Utah Mormon culture.  But when I have another spiritual desire that doesn't conflict with the Church, I'll go with it.  I had an awesome institute teacher who called this "spiritual envy" and he was a man who did take bits and pieces of other religions add to his practice.  I enjoy reading my scriptures and I enjoy praying. I love General Conference.  But, truth be told, if I had a great excuse to not go to every Sunday meeting, I'd probably take it.  I guess I just don't need a regular dose of that organized community.  And if something happened to cause my beliefs to change significantly enough to not match the Church's beliefs, well, I'd just leave peacefully.

So I don't get this desire to change the Church to meet certain spiritual wants and needs.  Search, ponder, and pray.  If there is something missing from your spiritual practice that would not contradict Church beliefs or policy, consider taking it up. And don't be afraid to express it.  I see so many people crying in blogs about how they feel they are too different.  This isn't jr. high school, speak up!  If it fits well within in the Church, don't be afraid to express it.  If it doesn't fit... perhaps it's time to move on.


I eventually considered the possibility that not everyone is like me, that others do need an organized community of like-minded believers.  That seems to be where problems sprout.  "I would love the Church if only it changed pretty much everything about it!"  No, it's not up to you to change it.  There are branches of the Mormon faith that do ordain women and probably believe enough similar things as the official church. 

I don't want to say "Why don't you just leave?" rudely.  I mean it in all good heart.  If the Church and you no longer share enough beliefs, leave peacefully.  Find what works for you and what strengthens your belief.

What I don't stand for is people pushing to change the religion I love.  What I don't stand for is people who put their needs first and foremost--not just for themselves, but on top of everyone else.  Why should we significantly change to meet the needs of a few? 

Granted, this does not solve the problem of those who don't comfortably fit in the LDS Church and yet need that big church community for their spirituality (and aren't about to go join a fringe church).  These people do have my sympathy for their situation.  I don't know what to do for them.

But I'm not going to scream for ordination I don't even want or demand the Church change their doctrine on everything.

Dehydration: One issue of nursing a toddler

I spent this morning divided between two major tasks:  setting up a lesson plan and my classroom for a substitute and drinking water.

The former because Ruby woke up on Saturday morning with a fever that is only now breaking.  The latter because, in our slight effort to wean Ruby, I forgot about the importance of staying hydrated.

Since I went back to work, Ruby has been, rather naturally, weaning herself from breastfeeding.  In the beginning, I'd return home and she would beg to nurse, but the last week or so has shown her not to be all that interested. 

Now, I recall hearing over and over again that a sick toddler probably won't want to eat, making nursing a great resource.  Ruby wanted hydration, Ruby wanted comfort, so I pretty much spent the weekend cuddling and nursing a 13-month-old. 

I couldn't get enough water.  Not only was she draining me, I had slipped on nursing hydration standards.  I wasn't nursing as much as I was, so I wasn't drinking as much as I was.  I woke up parched in the middle of the night with Ruby still nursing.

Water.  Goodness me, but water is a nursing mother's friend.  Especially if you find yourself on a sudden power-nursing weekend.