Julie Pippert: Using My Words

Yesterday I got angry. I got very, very, very angry and because it is rainy and cold outside, and I had my kids, I didn't go for a jog a la Sophie . Instead I joined in that time-honored traditional outlet: venting with my friends, most of whom are also very, very, very angry. It's about our kids. And school. It's difficult to talk too much about specifics now because of things that are or may be happening (or not), some things that require investigation and open-minded talking, and a careful think-through of how I should proceed. And it's frustrating to feel gagged at the moment, when I do so like words to flow with impunity and freedom. ;) The important thing about the talks I had with my friends yesterday and the other talks over the course of this week is that I have some excellent, constructive ideas and a plan of action. As more than one friend suggested I do, I'm going to collect the myriad of posts I've written about my school concerns and put them toget...

(photo credit to Backflip ) In elementary school, we had music class every day. I looked forward to that period most of all. In music class it was okay to sing and hum---in fact it was encouraged!---and we got to stand. Plus sometimes the teacher organized little bands and somebody got to bang a tambourine or the sticks, and somebody may even have gotten to pipe on the recorder. We learned sad songs, slow songs, fast songs, and funny songs. My favorites were Waltzing Matilda and Senor Don Gato was a Cat . I sing these songs with my kids, now. We learned about rhyming and meter and prose---well before official language arts classes. We learned about fractions, timing, and scales---well before official math classes. In fourth grade, if you so chose, you could select an instrument. I did so choose and I selected the viola. I'd wanted the cello but arguments ensued and the viola was the compromise. I knew I wanted something with a rich and deep tonal potential, not a squeaky violin, a...

Blue Dog , by Patience , 2007 (Please do not reprint, use, or reproduce.) The other day we got a note home from school about the art program. We get notes from the school practically every day, promoting this or that cause, cajoling for volunteers, or asking for some sort of donation, but this one caught me. In our school district---which I consider to be a relatively wealthy district, with a high tax base and amazingly generous donations from individuals and the community---the school lacks (won't allocate?) the funds to provide the art teacher with the supplies she needs to teach our children about art. Art. A subject I consider essential. I come from a family of artists. I've created and sold art. For a while, it was my income. Luckily my husband provided one too or I might have starved, but that could also have been my lack of marketing ability (and motivation). Luckily my ancestors were craftier. When my great-grandmother became a single mother, she used her artistic talen...

When we lead our shiny, trepidatiously excited little children to kindergarten in Big School for the first time, I think our real fear is what school will do to our children, what it will turn them into...what they'll learn outside of the lesson plans. I think we fear this because every one of us knows exactly what else we learned in school...the things our parents probably never knew about directly (although I expected they figured it out to some degree, having been there, done that too). I think we fear this because every one of us on some level spends the rest of our lives undoing at least one thing we came out of school with that we don't really like. I've never heard anyone say this out loud, but I think we all realize that school will be, to some degree, both the making of and ruination of our children. And we know our job has transitioned from CITB (Chief Influencer of Thought and Belief) to PUP (Picker Up of the Pieces). I'm not being melodramatic, friends. I...

Last night was the Big Kindergarten orientation. We walked in with misgivings and concerns. We expected/hoped to have them appeased. We wanted to leave feeling ridiculous in ourselves, in our worries. We wanted the school to show us how awesome it is. We walked out discussing home schooling and wondering whether any private schools would still take on a charity student. Let me ask: what does orientation mean to YOU? How about this: an introduction, as to guide one in adjusting to new surroundings, employment, activity, or the like. Me too. Here's what it means to our local elementary school: Keep parents waiting outside in heat and humidity until 6:00 on the dot at which point you throw open the doors, herd them through the entry hall like cattle and then...that's it. We were ushered into the school where it was every man for himself. We stood at the end of the entry hall and noted with dismay that the main corridor split off into two directions. We had no idea where to go, who...