It Takes a Village

 This post originally appeared in my now defunct "Mom's View" blog.  I moved it to this blog at the request of my kids, who wanted to have all of the various posts that accompanied their high school years in one place.  I've matched the publication dates here to their original post date.  If you're reading these posts, I sincerely thank you for taking the time to go back through them all!

It's a trite saying, and we've heard it often.  It takes a village to raise a child.

I have been thinking of that statement a lot recently as I look back on the experience of getting the middle child through high school. 

Middle child has always been a challenge.  He sees school work as more of a guideline than a hard and fast rule.  He hates the drudgery of assignments that require you to regurgitate information, but lead to no actual learning.  He has a winning, smiling attitude, but if you are a teacher and he is bored in your class, you are going to have an interesting challenge on your hands.  I've had calls from teachers over the years as he's done everything from pounce on their math errors to submitting pages of information on grammatical and spelling errors on the school web site.  Let's not forget the 24 page lab reports for the chemistry teacher who told him he didn't give enough detail in his first assignment.   Fortunately, most of his teachers have been understanding and have taken this as a sign of him needing a greater challenge and have risen to the occasion and given him the challenge he desired.

However, nothing met this need for him as much as FIRST robotics.  In his Freshman year, his homeroom teacher snagged him for the robotics team.  He began working on the public relations team, and enjoyed the educational outreach.  He found out more about programming and began programming, and worked on the build team, helping to make the robot better.

Throughout the last four years, he has had all of the project based, meaningful learning that his heart could desire.  Keeping up with the drudgery of classwork was difficult, but he did it because the team requires a 2.5 average to remain on the team. 

The other parents are, without a doubt, my village.

Each of us has stepped in to guide a child when the parents are fed up and the children won't or don't want to hear what is being said to them.  The firm parental guidance of another parent (mentor) who respects your child and yet will also listen to them and help them through their frustrations with school, family, significant others, and yes, parents, has helped each of our children succeed.  They all know that there are other adults they can safely talk with, who respect them, and who will help guide them through their turmoils.

I have watched my son grow and mature over the last four years.  I can look at the three mentors who have worked so devotedly with the build team, and I can see the influence each of them has had on him.  Where 5 years ago, he would have yelled and thrown something if he didn't understand a new concept, I now hear the voice of one of the mentors as he says "Can  you go through that again for the dumbest guy in the room?  I got lost after you said....".  Everyone laughs, tension is relieved, and he gets another explanation of whatever it is that had tripped him up.

We have all taken each other's kids under our wing.  We are a family - a village - of people with one common interest.  Some people find their village through church, others find their village through scouts, or sports, drama, or music.  It doesn't matter where you find your village.  What matters is that you get to know the other parents of the children your child is friends with.  Only then can you help each other out, and watch each other's backs where the kids are involved.

I have been very fortunate.  I found my village.  I have helped many other teenagers through the challenges of high school, and I am truly blessed.  These are amazing kids who will go on to do great things with their lives, and make the world a better place.

Do you have a village in your life?

Reading to Your Kids

I loved reading to my kids.  Starting before they were born, I would read to them.

I read them everything I could get ahold of.  Textbooks, Dave Barry, Dr. Seuss.  When our oldest one was a wee little one with colic, the one thing that could calm him down was the sound of us reading out loud to him.  He would scream and scream, and one of us would pick him up, snuggle him up close and read the exploits of Dr. Seuss or Dave Barry.

As he got older, he eagerly awaited our weekly trip to the library.  He learned to count early because we would limit him to 20 books a week.  I'd sit on the floor of the library with my basket, and count books with him.  There were a couple of times when he'd sit and look closely between two or three books until he could find the one book that he liked the best to make 20. 

Some of my favorite preschool memories involve trips to the library.  I enjoyed picking out new books and reading new books almost as much as the kids did.  I have a Longaberger Medium sized market basket that used to go to the library with us each week.  It was the perfect size.  All of our books would fit in there.  The kids picture books would fit in spine up, with all of the bright titles shining out at us.  When the books weren't being read, they lived in the basket so that we could keep track of them between library trips.

I have to admit, we lost a few books over the years.  We've paid "rental" on several books that were late.  But the cost of those fines and replacement fees pales in comparision to the knowledge that my kids are active readers.  And I have 2 boys.  Boys are known for being reluctant readers, and yet they both love to read.

Why?  Because we set the stage early.  Reading was something we did as a family.  It brought us great joy.  We spent time together, looking at books, snuggling our children, and exploring new worlds together.

The boys did love to read non-fiction.  I do not.  So, we'd save the non-fiction books for when Daddy got home, and in the evenings, he'd sit and read endlessly from "The Animal Encyclopedia"  or "The Way Things Work" or "The New Book of Knowledge".  And, I'd sit there close beside them, listening with glazed eyes while the kids asked questions and Dad would go into infinite detail about say, how a screw worked.  And then, he'd get out his toolbox, a few screws, some wood, and a screwdriver, and they'd sit around putting screws into wood for half an hour before bedtime, all the while talking about where you'd use screws, and why you'd use screws instead of nails in certain situations...

I guess we didn't do all bad.  The oldest one graduated with a 4.0 and is double majoring in Physics and Math.  The middle one has something around a 3.5, and is an avid reader of business books and journals (and yes, he is Dyslexic, too.)  And our daughter has close to a 3.8.

I bring this up because I saw an article on CNN this morning that says something I think most of us already know  "It's the parent's job -- not the schools -- to find the books to get your kids reading and keep them reading".  http://www.cnn.com/2011/09/28/opinion/patterson-kids-reading/index.html accessed 9/29/2011. 

We as parents truly are our child's first and most important teachers.  What we show and model to our children is what they will live.  I know, it's frightening to think, isn't it?  They are such little mirrors of us and what we do.... 

And giving them a love of reading, which gives them the power to unlock doors, find out more, and make new discoveries?  To give them the curiosity to ask questions and find out why things are the way they are and work the way they do and see if they can understand it better, or make it work better?

I think that's the greatest gift that we can give to our children.