I am a teacher. I am proud to be a teacher. It took a lot of work. However, the time I spent as a teacher is outnumbered by the time I spent as a parent. I had my first child in January and went back to my classroom in March. By June I decided to stay home with him. It wasn't an easy decision. I never wanted to be a stay-at-home mom.
Almost 12 years later and here we are. I could never have imagined this life (and I have a wild imagination...sometimes it takes me awhile to come back to reality) or how this child would have turned out. He is complex. He is brilliant. He struggles with anxiety. Rarely eats anything. Did I mention brilliant? When we realized how smart he was we decided to say nothing. My experience teaching has taught me that everyone thinks their child is a genius. So we kept our mouths shut. Occasionally people noticed. When he was four: "Can L read?" "Yes." "Because we display the verses and I think he is just reading them." "He probably is. It's okay if you don't let him see them."
I pulled him out of public school because the material was below his capabilities. Together we soared............................
Lots of periods because that is a lot of time I just jumped with a few dots. However, we there was so much in those years. We studied, we explored, we argued and we learned.
Time passed and circumstances changed and school became a possibility and a necessity. He went. He conquered. Straight A's of course, but more than that...competition, recognition, loss...
It isn't perfect. There is one teacher who does not seem to like him. He wrote a magnificent paper. I was so excited to see the grade. When I read it I was overwhelmed with joy and pride. He had worked for two weeks on it and it was above and beyond what I would ever expect from a sixth grader. Every day we asked, "Did you get your paper back yet?" And she waited until the day before Christmas break to drop the bomb. She tore it to shreds. She red-inked that thing from beginning until the point where she drew a line and wrote, "Stopped editing here." Where she admitted that she had just quit reading.
Devastation. I called her in a fury. I wrote her an incredibly angry and offensive email (that I didn't send). How in the WORLD could she not have seen this paper for all that it was worth? I was confused. I loved this paper. I know that I am the mother and that I see things differently, but I am a teacher. I edited the paper. I showed him my corrections. I showed him the grammatical errors that kept it from being an A+ paper. But she didn't just take away the A+ . No. She gave him an 85. She said it was too descriptive and too wordy. She tore it apart.
He said he would never write again. He said he sucked. He cried.
I said, she means nothing. Her opinion means nothing. It's an excellent paper. Don't ever just accept one opinion. Tons of incredibly successful people experienced one rejection after another until their work was noticed. Some weren't recognized until they had actually died. He sighed. He took it in, but the pain is there.
To her, a fellow teacher, I am dumbfounded. How could/would you do that? His grades are top-notch. Nothing less than perfect. Except for English. Her subjective grading has ripped this kid apart. I can only hope that there is a lesson in here somewhere for him. Someday, when he accepts the Pulitzer, he will hopefully leave her name off his thank you list. I am doing my best to understand her relentless war against him. Until then, I am disappointed and angry. I built up this student. She has no right to tear him down. I could say a few more choice words about her, but I should probably "stop editing here."
