Tour Campus Help Campus Selection–for Kindergarten

I used to sell book to educators at various districts in my surrounding metro. I pulled up to one school in particular, and I will never forget the banner they had hanging from the exterior brick. “Your Pathway to College.”

This is an elementary school. Reading, writing and arithmetic. I am no expert in public education, but there is something inside of me that recoiled from the pressure of being in elementary school and having to think about what college I will be attending someday.

And fatherhood has now brought me to the point to usher in a kindergarten student this fall. Between my wife and I, we have attended four different school information sessions and that wasn’t even everything available.

I’m grateful we have such options. Magnet schools focusing on arts, science, technology, math, language immersion or a charter school, focusing on Core Knowledge curriculum. And then there is the “home” public school. There are five elementary schools in our area, and that doesn’t even count the private schools.

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The pressure is again felt on my shoulders. Although, this time it is as a father questions what school is best for his son.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, the magnet and charter school are lottery based, so the immediate decision isn’t up to me. I’m forced to hand that piece over. The lottery is coming up this week, but I’ll be handing over the final decision then, too.

I’m reassured by this top 10 how-to list of helping your child in elementary school. If you’d like me to sum it up for you, be involved in your child’s education. Everything from knowing the school layout to what was played at recess to parent/teacher conferences, be an involved parent is the driving force behind success or failure in school.

That being said, I can’t discredit the support and environment an elementary school does provide. If the teachers are focusing more on keeping order and meeting test scores, what does that do to the environment?

The “home” public school has 69% if its students on the free and reduced lunch program. I love the diverse community in which we live. I want to raise my kids in an environment where they get to learn about the worlds’ spectrum of colors and cultures.

But I do want the best for my son, and there are rumors that this “home” elementary school has some challenging students. Neighbors who sent their kindergartner to the school moved out three years ago because of the school, so they could be in a different district.

So, I have choices. I have the ability to take it one day at a time. And I can let go of my fears and trust God. Life has a funny way of coming into focus as you look back, and I trust that when I look back on the route my son takes to elementary school that it will be the route he was supposed to take.

That’s Nice. My Pre-schooler Has a Powerdrill! Put It Down. And Now He Hates Me.

My four-and-a-half year old son is as independent as it gets, unless we’re visiting extended relatives that are new to him every time we visit, every couple of years.

So he’s rummaging downstairs in our unfinished basement. This place is full of treasures to a boy his age and full of junk waiting to be thrown or organized by me.

There’s nothing too toxic down there, so I hadn’t thought much about it. And there is a designated office space where he can drive Matchbox cars. But then he turned the corner and my wife could see (and hear) from the top of the stairs that he is playing with my power drill.

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The battery was charged and he was revving it full bore with the Phillips-head screw driver spinning on the end, and my wife kindly asked him to put it down. And then I reacted with a shout, “What is he doing! Hey, put that down!”

Yes, it was abrupt of me, but I’m trying to keep his safety. (Maybe I could do that by putting my tools away.) So I wanted to get my point across, and I snapped a little at him to do just that.

He came up sniffling, with tears in his eyes. A mix of remorse, shame and probably anger fueled the protective surrender. I’ve been there. I’m in trouble, so I’m going play I’m sorry. But the truth is in hindsight, there is a more impactful way of handing the situation.

As my intelligent wife points out, you can get the same result through a loving, caring conversation, too.

So why do I yell? When I really think about it, I want him to feel bad and not pickup the drill next time for fear of more yelling.

This particular study by the Journal of Marriage and Family says 90% of Americans utilize “psychological aggression” in disciplining their kids. And these are parents with kids under the age of two that have used at least one episode within the last 12 months.

The article goes on to focus on the effect in adolescence, causing the young teenager to feel rejected or that their parents don’t like them.

Now, relating such feelings toward God, I can tell you that I gave up on that relationship quickly when I thought he didn’t like me. I have to ask myself, would I want my young adult child (who I can’t even imagine as a teenager at this time) to turn away from me as I turned away from God.

I can tell you my life didn’t go very well when I tried to run it on my own, so I now work to keep a relationship with God.

Mirroring this to the relationships I hope to have with my kids, I hope they see me as someone who does care. So maybe next time, instead of snapping at the use of a power drill I could walk down the basement and explain, in a caring a loving way, what the tool is and why it is a grownup tool. God willing.

 

 

The Weight and Responsibility of Defining Your Child’s Self

Be you.

Discover your dreams and chase them.

Don’t let anyone hold you back.

All of these inspiring and motivating sentences are great, and I’m a big proponent of dream chasing and self improvement. But how do I figure out who I am to chase my dreams? Or better yet, as a father, how do I help my children grow with a solid foundation about themselves and their self worth?

I recently dove into Making Sense of God by Timothy Keller, and in a chapter dedicated to hashing out the problems of self he makes an interesting point.

You cannot get your identity through introspection. You must learn about who you are through other people.

He says, “Only if we are approved and loved by someone whom we esteem can we achieve any self-esteem.” My fatherly prospective felt the weight of this, and I was brought to do something I rarely do. I made a note in the margin of the page.

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There are two pieces to this that I feel are striking. One, in order to support my kids with any self-esteem, I must approve and love them. Not only when they are “being good,” but also when they are throwing a fit in the isle of the grocery store.

The other piece is that I must carry myself so that they must respect and admire me. This brings me to, “the base in me–he must not see..” in the anonymous Little Chap Who Follows Me poem.

I can be fearful, resentful, jealous and angry. I don’t want my son or daughter to see this. Granted, we’re family. There has been and will be occasions where they will unfortunately experience me in these states. Hopefully, these instances are minor and are overshadowed by admiration worthy examples.

The love part comes pretty easy for me. Yes, there are always those time when a low blood sugar morning erupts out of my son before breakfast is served, when I wonder why he has to express himself in this way. But if I approach the situation with understanding, I can approach the situation with love.

I can only hope to be carried along in this journey as someone my son and daughter look up to and can really believe my words when I give them supporting “you can do it” compliments.

Have you ever received a supporting word from someone you don’t admire? Maybe I have. I can’t recall. Because chances are, I didn’t hear them even if they were spoken. I was too busy closing off this person from my head.

 

I Should Be Grateful You’re Irritating Me

Starting off the New Years weekend with an extra day off today, but there were several times where I felt a little stifled from the family time. Maybe it’s the overabundance of family time during the holidays. Maybe it was just a mood of mine.

Either way, I found myself getting irritated with my son and daughter. She’s crawling and growing in awareness where she understand what we are communicating but quickly enters frustration with a full on flexed and arched back when she can’t communicate herself.

I’ve grown to the point where I understand this irritation about others is actually in me, however I couldn’t quite pinpoint where my restlessness was coming from. And then God reminded me to count my blessings.

I received an email about a friend who miscarried her first baby. My wife and I are close enough to her that we cried when we read the email.

The perspective to be grateful for my two children, no matter how much they fuss or beg for candy or push the boundaries, is so elusive. If any of you hold a constant state of gratitude, I’m all ears to hear how you do it.

I must say from my perspective, I’m grateful more often than not, but this evening I think about how blessed I am to hold my pudgy nine month-old daughter. Her giggle when I nuzzle into her baby soft neck is priceless. I think about how blessed I am to have my four year-old son beg to build a Duplo castle.

There have been countless books about suffering, and the question of why evil exists in the world has been contemplated since the garden of Eden.  When Bad Things Happen to Good People by Harold S. Kushner has been a best seller for years. C.S. Lewis tackles the subject in The Problem of Pain

If there is one area that can insert doubt into my faith, it’s watching good people suffer or die for no reason. Why does a perfectly healthy woman suffer a miscarriage? Why do people die when a seemly perfectly stable bridge collapses? Insert any number of questions here about bad things happen to good people.

The only thing I can come back to is that God has a plan. I don’t know what it is, so I can’t really say what is good and what is bad. There is a plan for our friend. There is a plan for my healthy kids. There is a plan for me.

Maybe the irritation I feel with my family is God’s way of making me grow? Maybe our friend is losing her baby to make her stronger or alleviate worse pain that would have existed if the baby would have lived?

All I know is that through all the struggles of parenthood, that I need to remember it is a gift, as long as I am willing to accept it as a gift. It really comes down to perspective.

Oh No, Santa Couldn’t Bring Everything

I naturally default to filling the provider shoes in the family (even though role is a joint venture.) Maybe it’s a guy think, part of fatherhood, but I enjoy being able to provide groceries, emotional support and shop for friends and family during Christmas.

So my immediate reaction to my four year-old son’s letter to Santa, was to envision Santa stuffing all of this into his budget, ‘er sleigh and down our chimney. His letter included a basketball, soccer ball, red tape (for crafts), a car that he could drive, a play bow and arrow that shoots darts and a real bow and arrow. There was also the all encompassing mention of “a toy  that’s really cool,” added at the end of his list.

My son is a good boy. I know what you’re thinking. That I am his dad and of course I am going to write this on my blog. But really, he is a good kid. We are lucky to have him. All arguments aside I felt Santa should bring him everything from the list, even the car he could drive (that I despise from an environmental and consumer point of view).

I’m not going to list what exactly Santa brought and didn’t bring but let’s just say that his sack could only fit about half of my son’s list.

Even up until Christmas Eve, I was concerned that Santa wouldn’t be able bring all of the gifts. I felt as if my son would focus on the gifts that he didn’t get (or really wanted most on the list) that the ones he didn’t receive.

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This is when my wife points out to me that Santa’s inability to bring everything on the list teaches him that he doesn’t get everything he wants. After all, have I gotten everything I wanted or asked for? Definitely not. God seems to provide to me what exactly I need right as I need it.

Such as it is with things. Even if God provided me with all the things that I asked for, I would still find things that I wish I could have. Maybe it’s me and the disease of more or maybe it’s just human nature, but my appetite for new things can be insatiable at times. And for me, it’s really only those times where I completely trust Him to give me what I need that I am content.

And when Christmas morning came and Santa had dropped off his deliveries, his presents were wrapped, all except the soccer ball. My son picked up the soccer ball, gave it a little boy hug and said, “He brought me what I wanted.”

So much for my son focusing on what he didn’t get. Maybe it’s me that needs to focus on what I can provide rather than what I can’t.

Road Trip ROI to Honor Mother and Father

Twelve hours on the road, approximately six hours packing, three blowout diapers, one overnight hotel and a car that needs fumigation was the price I paid to spend 26 hours with my parents and siblings. I’m not even taking into account tenting in 43 degree weather. Conventional marketing return on investment (ROI) analysis may say the return isn’t worth the effort for the amount of time spent (subtract sleeping and loading while there).

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But how do you value time spent with growing family and three new babies (one of my own)? I think it’s an example of the cheesy American Express ads:  Priceless.

I’m barely three months in to a new job. My wife is slammed with administering to a new school location for her grade 7-12 special education facility, and our rusty Honda CRV 2000, with 200k miles in sight, is packed when hauling camping gear for my infant daughter and four-year-old son.

We had declined the invitation previously because of the stated above, and then all of a sudden my sister and her family, with my 11 month old niece, were able to attend the cabin excursion.

I couldn’t say no. Maybe it’s because I don’t see my out-of-state siblings often, maybe it was getting the new cousins together with their grandparents, maybe God was at hand imploring me to change my mind. So we packed up and headed out.

The wind blew and it rained with temperatures in the low 60’s 75 percent of the time. There were several temper tantrums (one of these being executed by yours truly), and my sister and her feverish daughter were not feeling well.

And through all of those experiences fun was had by all. No regrets. Stand-up paddle boarding, fishing, campfires, brats and plenty of baby noises with pictures to prove it. 

I can feel what I think God is getting at in Ephesians 6:2 (NIV) when he says, “Honor your father and mother–which is the first commandment with a promise.”

If I had not forced myself to go, I would have held ill will every time I looked back on the memory. My mother said she understood why we couldn’t make it, but I could feel the joy in their eyes watching the chaos of their children raising their grandchildren.

The verse right after in Ephesians 6:3 (NIV), says the reason why. “that it may go well with you and that you may be long-lived on the earth.”

And you know what. I do feel well about the journey. Every up and down that came with it. As far as the long-lived part, that’s up to Him.

Maybe by modeling this for my kids, the ROI will be visits and time with their grandchildren when I’m old and gray. 

Letting Go, Letting God and Letting the Baby Eat Her Socks

My life is busy. Two kids under the age of five, a full-time job, a wife with a full-time job and all of the grown up responsibilities that come with running a growing household.

I could easily say I’m tired. I can easily say I’m tired. Everywhere I look there is a floor that needs to be wiped, a pile of clothes to be washed or some sort of toy to be put away. But today I didn’t do any of that. At least at the normal after-work chase-my-tail-just-to-keep-up maintenance pace I operate from getting home until the kids are in bed.

I laid down in the middle of the toys, with the dirty dishes still on the stove and on the table, and played with my baby girl. She just rounded the corner on five months. I read her a book while she stretched her arms to bring the board-book pages to her lips.

She sat propped in a Bumbo seat eyes wide, exploring the world with amazement. She would endlessly knock over the stuffed blocks I set up as she worked her limbs to explore what exactly these blocks are all about.

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Okay, I did get up once to bring something into my bedroom, and by the time I had returned she had flipped to her stomach, grabbed her pair of socks and was giving them a taste. How quickly things can happen. I was grateful it wasn’t the art supplies my four-year-old had brought home.

But I’ll never get over the amazement and wonder for life kids have. Untarnished by the car’s make and model we are driving. Amazed by the first car wash, and immediately saying, “let’s do that again,” when the wash is finished. Completely accepting of the clothes they wear (at least until their about four or so).

The words of Jesus in Matthew 18:3 (ISV) says, “I tell all of you with certainty, unless you change and become like little children, you will never get into the kingdom from heaven.”

Because when I was laying on the floor with my baby, or reading a new batch of library books with my four-year-old son or even staring into my baby’s eyes as I change her, I find these little children are the closest to God I’ve ever been.

Yes, they can also drive me to the gates of hell at times, but that is if I don’t change. If I change, and look at the world through children’s eyes, humble, forgiving and with amazement, I can feel the presence of God. I can even let go of the fact that the dishes are piled at the moment. I’ll get to them later, when the baby is sleeping.