Oliver, at 6 1/2 and in Grade 1, received his first official report card today. In his academic life so far, he is a solid B- student, with a C or two thrown in for good measure. Since reading it this morning, I've vacillated between "whatever" and annoyance.
To cut to the chase, the report card—published on the dreariest paper with only different shades of grey demarcating the various sections—is full of lukewarm nothingness. It is the opposite of enthusiasm, the epitome of boring, uninspired, spiritless. There is minus one ounce of fun, negative sense of wonder, zero excitement.
It is full of bits like this:
"Oliver generally follows the class rules and routines ... sometimes understands what is expected of him ...would benefit from focusing ... is reminded to follow directions ... is encouraged to use active listening skills."
And it's those bits that take me from annoyed to ... whatever, and even pride.
Here's how I interpret the bits, how I might rewrite them:
"Oliver is doing a terrific job at being a kid! He finds it intensely boring to sit for more than three seconds, lots of fun to talk to his friends—whom he adores and is wildly loyal to—and may well be thinking up one of the great jokes he's been enjoying crafting ("What's a cat's favourite fruit? An avo-CAT-o!!!!")
He is not desperate for his teachers' approval, is very polite (so the report card says), and finds the playground a thrilling place to be."
An admission: I get that every kid gets the grey, murky paper and that the comments are pulled from a list of possible text teachers can pop in to the predetermined spaces. I understand that the report card can not be an ode, an artistic masterpiece. I can see how his distraction sometimes can be a nuisance in class, and that as a teacher that gets tired. I understand my preciousness.
BUT: I can object to the lack of energy, to the absence of maybe one sentence acknowledging that he is a delightful, inventive, funny little guy. I can pine (ridiculously I suppose) for a philosophy more akin to that of the Finns (who are doing quite well, thank you, compared to students from other countries).
And throughout all this thinking about how I feel about O's lackluster report card, I have remembered my own performance in school. How I was so desperate to be at the top of the class, to receive teachers' admiration. How I dropped classes in high school if it seemed I might not get an A. How stupidly proud I was in university to avoid a single B. How stressed I was, and how little my always-striving, high-strung competitiveness really mattered. How much more a cooperative, relaxed attitude and a generousness toward others' contributions actually matters in the end, and throughout a career.
What can I say? He makes up his own jokes at 6 1/2, and they're funny. He loves his friends. He craves the outdoors. He is sweet with his grandparents. He is brilliant. Here's his cat.
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