Boys Are Culturally Maligned in Elementary School

Something awesome happened in my classroom recently. It was something that I had hoped would happen, too. I played this video from a TEDx talk at Penn State about bringing gaming into elementary school classrooms to help inspire boys’ to engage in school-based learning activities.

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In this 12-minute presentation, Ali Carr-Chellman talked about her research as to why boys are disenfranchised in today’s educational system. She points to some eye-opening statistics about gender inequities in schools today that belie the idea that boys will automatically outpace girls academically. But she is clear to point out that she is not gender-baiting. Her point is that we need to meet boys where they are, culturally.

I’ve been saying the same thing for about a year now. I have noticed the phenomenon since day one of teaching. In all of my classes, boys were the ones who were “most likely” to be reprimanded for some fashion of unacceptable behavior. Boys were the ones “most likely” to turn off during lessons. Boys were the ones “most likely” to lag behind their female counterparts in any kind of reading or writing assignment. I put “most likely” in quotes because I am referring to my experience and not any empirical data.

At the same time I was noticing this trend among boys, I also noticed another trend among teachers. Carr-Chellman calls attention this, too. It is the demeaning of boy culture by teachers. Teachers describe boy interests using diminutives like “little” and “toy”, or dismissive generic nouns like “thing” or “stuff”. I experienced this myself as an adult when I started to show my new iPad to some female friends. Immediately they called it a “toy” in a not-so-supportive tone. Conversely, they revered their less-powerful and single-use Kindles, and promoted them to their friends. And this has happened repeatedly in the past year, but less so as the iPad has gained acceptance.

It was a perfectly timed experience for me, beacuse I was immediately transported back to my pre-teen self when my teachers, administrators, counselors, etc. would make similar remarks about the toys and interests my friends and I had. I even remembered thinking on at least one occasion, “Wow. I hoped I could have made a connection with my teacher just then, but I failed.” That memory made me more aware of my own interactions with my students, male and female alike. I made an effort to have more authentic interactions with them about their personal interests. It immediately improved my understanding of them as individuals, and it allowed me to improve my rapport with students which was especially useful for times when I had to discipline them.

So, before I showed this video to my students, I asked my boys if they have ever felt like school was just for girls. I asked if they felt like their interests were discounted by their teachers, and how that made them feel. The answers were unanimous. They did not feel like school was a place for boys. So, I expected it to be true, but to hear them agree so enthusiastically was astounding. Asking those questions empowered these boys in my class to express themselves publicly in an honest and visceral way that they hadn’t before in school. I guess no one had thought to ask.

This whole exercise, of course, is connected to the curriculum. It is in fact connected to my writing curriculum. One of my goals this year is to break down the barriers that kids have in becoming good writers – really good writers. And I want my boys to feel like they can express themselves using words without fear of retribution or ridicule, but in a way that isn’t mistaken for violent expression.

Watching the video and the discussion that followed got the whole class riled up. That’s good because the writing unit we are working on at the moment is personal essays. I’ve been using audio and video versions of good personal essays mainly to distinguish between a personal essay and a personal narrative. After seeing this, each student could have written a personal essay about his or her feelings about school – the boys especially. Seeing them write with conviction, passion and purpose – that will be the biggest (and most welcome) surprise of all!

The “Real” First Day of Kindergarten

I really didn’t see it coming the day it hit me that G is starting to gain some independence. I expected it, even prayed for it, but still wasn’t ready when it came so suddenly. Last week, G walked himself to his kindergarten classroom.

In our house, we have been counting down the days until G started kindergarten. Where we live, the schools run on multiple calendars and some even go year-round. G’s first day was just after the Fourth of July. He went one day for staggered entry – each day a small group of kindergarteners arrive and get a tour of the school and take a few readiness assessments. To me, this was a breeze. Bringing G to his classroom that first day was, emotionally, no different than any day I had dropped him off at daycare or preschool.

Even the next week when he started going full time, it was really cool to walk him downstairs from my own classroom where I teach fifth grade to his kindergarten room. It was a little out of the way for me, but I really enjoyed it. I never suggested G walk himself down, either. But somehow, he got the idea, and next thing I know he was doing it.

Out of the blue one day last week, G asked to walk himself down the stairs. We said our goodbyes. I hugged him a little tighter that morning, and I watched him trundle off for the stairwell. My heart broke a little in that moment to see my boy going off on his own. No tears for me, but emotion, yes. It was bittersweet. I miss bringing him to his classroom already.

Verdict: Guilty of High Cholesterol

We got confirmation of something we knew was very likely. G has the same hereditary problem I do: high cholesterol. It may seem strange that a 5-year-old has to worry about his cholesterol, but he does, and so do I. It comes from my father’s side of the family, and it killed my dad at 34 and his dad at 36.

Even though I expected it, it is kind of a big blow for me.

I found out after my dad died that his cholesterol was 640. It’s supposed to be under 200. Later I learned it was hereditary, and it hits in mid-30s. All of his brothers have had some kind of heart trouble.

I know what’s ahead for G, and I’m not happy about it.

But I want his experience to be different. Mine started when I was teenager, and right at the time that cholesterol became a bad guy. Most people didn’t understand it, and everyone though it was just a middle-aged man’s concern. My friends’ parents thought I was crazy when I said I couldn’t eat lunch at McDonald’s because I had high cholesterol. That wasn’t something a kid should need to worry about, surely. One friend’s mom openly called me a liar. (She apologized after my mom set her straight.)

We are at least a little more enlightened these days, I hope. Time will tell.

Now it’s my job to teach G all that I have learned. Unfortunately, we can lower our cholesterol by changing our diets alone. I’ve tried that too many times and failed every time. But he’s too young for medication, so diet and exercise is all we have for him right now.

He’s already very active, so we just need to find ways to trim fat and white carbs and sugars from his diet. That’s easier said than done. We all have a sweet tooth and a love for rich foods. After we broke the news, he was most upset that he can’t really eat much cheese anymore.

This is the first of many changes afoot; all good for us as a family. They’re just not the changes we’d choose to make right now.

Fatherless for 22 Years and Counting

It was 22 years ago today that my dad died of massive coronary. I didn’t get official word that he died until a couple of weeks later, though.

My folks were divorced and I hadn’t talked to my dad in a long time. I decided I wanted to call him, and maybe see him, after being out of school for about a week. I hadn’t asked to do that in a long time, and in a strange twist of fate, I happened to call his place of employment looking for him 22 years ago today. The man on the other end of the phone told me that he had died the night before, and that he was just finding out about it. I was stunned, of course. After a few more questions, I found out he had changed to a different work location. They weren’t very helpful when I called there, so I had reached a dead end.

I went on with life for the next few weeks. I didn’t know what to think. It could have been a trick. It could have been true. I put it out of my mind and went to visit with family for a week or so. But when I came home, my mom had the death notice from the newspaper where he lived and it was true. It’s one of those moments you’ll never forget living through. You remember everything, and I still do. I remember the exact layout of the room we were in, how we were sitting on the couch, and the look on my mother’s face when she had to break the news to me. I remember which lights were on, for goodness’ sake.

It was also a moment that changed my life forever for another reason. I found out that I have a hereditarily high cholesterol, as do all the men in my family. It’s something I’ve battled since, and while I’ve avoided a heart attack, I have not won the battle with myself and my ability to stay fit and keep my cholesterol low.

In the years since my dad died, I went through a long grief process, but most of the pain of loss is gone. That was until this week when I had to explain to G about why my dad was dead. G is 5. He has lots of questions. Those questions are often very pointed. He’ll make a good trial attorney someday.

G and I were in the car when he started asking about it. A few minutes earlier, while we were still at home, I was trying to teach him how to snap and whistle. I showed him a neat snapping/clapping trick that my Uncle Bob taught me a long time ago. G loved it.

He got a little confused when he asked about it in the car, and he asked when my dad showed me that. We had to do some sorting out, for example, my stepdad isn’t my actual dad. The snapping trick was shown to me by my uncle. My dad is dead; my uncle is not. Then the questions started about my dad, and suddenly I was back on that couch in my living room watching my mother say the words, “Your dad did die, Tim.” Suddenly, the pain of loss was poking its way back into my gut for the first time in over a dozen years.

“How did your dad die, dad?” G asked.

“He died of a heart attack,” I answered.

“What’s a heart attack?”

“It’s when your heart stops working, and your blood doesn’t get pumped through your body anymore,” I said, trying to make the words accessible to him.

“Why did he have a heart attack?” G asked, apparently satisfied with my previous explanation.

“He didn’t take care of himself, G. He drank beer, smoked cigarettes, and didn’t sleep a lot.”

“Why didn’t he take care of himself?”

“He didn’t know any better. He didn’t know he had a high cholesterol that was going to make his heart stop.”

“So he died because of his cholesterol? What’s cholesterol?” See what I mean? I’m being cross-examined here.

“Cholesterol is the stuff in your blood that we say is bad and you and I have a lot of it. That’s why we can’t eat certain foods because they’re bad for our blood,” I explained.

“And he didn’t know those foods were bad for his blood? How come no one told him?”

“No one knew the foods were so bad. He didn’t know they would hurt him,” I said.

“Well we know, dad, so we won’t eat those, right?”

“Right.” And that’s when I changed the subject, but the feeling of loss hasn’t left me since.

I’ve now reached an age my dad didn’t. He never saw his 35th birthday.

I’ve lived without my dad almost my entire life anyway thanks to a combination of familial missteps, but his absence has always been noticeable. As a boy, I missed him because he wasn’t at my ball games and such. As a teenager, I missed him, but I didn’t fully know why until I was older. I needed a dad to help toughen me up and point me in the right direction (advice about girls would’ve helped, too). As a young man, I missed having that grownup relationship men have with their dads. As a father myself, though, I miss him more than I thought I would. And the conversation with G really brought that into focus. G has a great relationship with my stepdad (Gramps), as do I, but even G notices the absence of my natural father.

So, wherever you are, dad, just know that I’m thinking of you today, as I do each year on this day. You weren’t ever really a big part of my life, but you’ve left a big whole that no one will ever fill.

All This “Mom Rah-Rah” Crap is Pissing Me Off

I’m sure I’m just being a whiny crybaby, but I’m getting pissed off at these “family” resources that do nothing but focus on moms. They claim they are all about being family- or kid-friendly, but their content is all mom-this and mom-that. It seems as if dads don’t exist at all, or they show up and give their best Joey Lawrence impression, “Whoa!”

I’m tired of being considered a member of the domestically hapless sex. I’m not some gelatinous blob who is lavished with child adoration because I can make fart noises behind my knee. I’m not the guy who goes golfing every weekend because the thought of being around my kids is frightening. I’m not an idiot who thinks food comes out of the kitchen heater thing ready for me when I come home.

I am a man. I am a father. I am daddy.

There are plenty of others like me, too. Take my good friend Aaron Gouveia over at Daddy Files (@DaddyFiles). He’s the father of Will, a great toddler who occupies half of his attention. The other half is focused on his wife, MJ. Both parents work. Both dote on their son. They are equal partners in their household work, which includes caring for an raising Will.

Aaron is a major advocate for the dad’s role in the family unit. He believes in being actively engaged in his son’s life, and that dads are not to be discounted by the hyperactive “momculture”. His recent post, “Men Need Friends, Too“, argues that “Girls Night Out” is a celebrated tradition, but any suggestion of a “Guys Night Out” is akin to a remake of The Hangover, and that’s not right. It points out the double-standard that exists in the popular opinion of marital fairness.

I’m not an idiot. Despite people like Aaron and me, most of the moms in the world are moms to their children and their husbands alike. They do the majority of the domestic work in addition to whatever other occupation they might have whether it is full time child rearing or VP in the corporate world.

I get it. Today’s mom is the maid, cook, coach, counselor, etc. Guess what? That’s not much different than any time in history, except that women now have the additional responsibilities that come with a career. And, believe me, I’m not advocating that women should all stay at home. My wife has always made more money than me, she has a master’s degree and I do not, and she holds a higher position in her career than I do. And I’m proud of her for accomplishing all of that. I’ve pushed her to continue to reach for her goals while we have started a family that includes two kids and a dog.

What I’m saying is I’m tired of the double-standard that mom is the only person who grocery shops or cooks dinner or does laundry. I’m tired of magazine’s like “Parents” and “Parenting” throwing a bone to us dads once a year in June to say how great we are, but then only talk about women’s issues in their newsstand content the rest of the year. Obviously, a majority of their readership is women, but their articles could at least make an effort to include a dad perspective more regularly.

There are Twitter accounts that claim they are “family” services, but then all of their promotions or chats are mom-centered or even use a hashtag with “mom” in it. I wouldn’t mind this if there was a “dad’ conversation, too, but there isn’t. But that’s not to say that dads don’t exist or have their own community. There’s The Good Men Project Magazine, the #dadstalking Twitter chat hashtag, and more. These are not the mainstream.

It’s time dads got some regular credit for their contributions. Dads want to be part of the parenting conversation, and yet they face their own glass ceiling. They want to be marketed family products without a feminine undertone. Gender neutral is fine. Really. It’s OK.

Momsculture: stop ignoring us. You want our help. You want us to be involved. You want a partner. Then let us. Stop keeping us at arm’s length. And for goodness’ sake, stop celebrating yourselves for doing a job that is as old as time. Celebrate yourselves because you’re a quality person with dreams and accomplishments. Then celebrate us dads for the same reasons.

Cooking With The Boy

One of the things I always loved to do since I was a kid was to cook. My mother did it out of necessity, but my grandmother did it with passion. Some of my best memories with Nana are working alongside her in the kitchen. It’s been important to me to pass this onto G, and someday to A.

About a year ago I bought a plastic lettuce knife at Williams-Sonoma with a gift card and it quickly became G’s. It’s the size of a regular chef’s knife so I took the chance to teach G some knife skills along the way.

Today we made some watermelon and red grape salad and G took on the job of dicing the melon. He sliced it a little more than diced, bit that’s OK. I grabbed a little video of it because no one would believe me that he can handle a knife so well at just 5 years old. So here’s my proof.

The Value of Teaching Your Kids Oral Editing

G is at the age where everything that enters his mind comes out of his mouth. This is often very cute. He will say “the darndest things” all the time and I wish I had a recorder for almost all of them.

But then there are times when you can see it coming that what he is about to say will neither be cute or appropriate, and sometimes downright embarrassing.

We had one of those moments yesterday. After talking the entire 35 minutes it took to get to the mall, G kept right on chattering his way through visits to Pottery Barn Kids and the Apple Store. So I knew what to expect when we went to Barnes and Noble: He would jibber-jabber about everything he saw; books on display, calendars for sale, toys that interested him.

He lived up to expectations, too. That is why I quickly turned him the other way when I spotted a middle school-aged girl on crutches. I quickly noticed that she was a recent amputee and that her right leg still had a gauze would dressing. There was no knowing why her leg was removed so close to the hip. Was it an injury? Was it cancer? That wasn’t for me to know. My job was to quickly steer G away and change he subject to distract his anticipated line of questioning. It worked.

We went upstairs to the children’s section to get G some Junie B. Jones books, and I thought we were safe. But when we went back downstairs, the girl went by us, and before I knew it G spotted it and started talking about it.

“What book are you looking for, daddy that girl broke her leg!” Yep. He said it just like that. If I could have amputated his lips, I would have done it on the spot.

This was obviously was a teachable moment. How I played the next few seconds was important. I got down real close to G and in a serious soft voice I said, “Don’t ever talk about another person like that again. Understood? That girl does not need you calling attention to her leg or any other part of her body. Got it?”

Message received. G didn’t say much after that and we left the store a few minutes later anyway. Later, when we were in the car, I explained why what he said was wrong. There were a lot questions about why her leg was amputated, and I did my best to answer them. But I’m not so sure we are clear of these moments yet. Only time will tell.

The Beach and I Are Not Friends

The beach and I are not friends, but we tolerate each other. Let’s say we have and understanding.

We just wrapped up a weekend in a very nice Wilmington hotel where we visited both Wrightsville and Kure beaches on North Carolina’s Cape Fear Coast. It was a mixed experience. We had lots of fun with the kids in the sand and surf, but it comes at a cost that is almost unbearable for me. I’m just not a fan of lugging half a living room and a galley kitchen to sit and bake on the sand.

This all goes back to when I was a kid and it was just me and my mom. We would venture to the beach for a day and I would be done by about lunchtime. About that time she would be turning her chair to get a better angle on the sun.

We would bring her trifold chaise lounge that weighed 15 pounds, a metal cooler that had a 1962 vintage. All I got was a towel and a plastic pail and shovel. Lunch consisted of soggy and sandy tuna sandwiches and soggy chips. Boo-hoo, right? Call the whaaaaaa-ambulance! Yeah, yeah.

Well, it sucked, and I’ve hated the beach most of my life because of it.

Not all of my beach experiences are bad ones. I have lots of good memories on the beach, even as an adult and a dad.

So now I have a challenge to figure out what it is I like about the beach. I’m beginning to realize that I like to put on sunscreen before I get there. While there I want something to do like build a sandcastle or go on a seashell hunt. And I want to bring as little with me as possible. That last part is crucial. I also want to find a beach that is a reasonable drive, has nearby parking, and isn’t too crowded.

Because all I really want is my kids to have good memories of their childhood’s on the beach so they will one day enjoy the beach with their own kids.

Preschool Graduation: Triumph Without Tears

G graduated preschool yesterday and in just a few short weeks he will be in kindergarten.

The ceremony included all of the pomp and circumstance of a high school or college commencement, including the processional song, “Pomp and Circumstance”. His preschool even went so far as to rent space at a local historic college and provide caps and gowns. The owner conferred the diplomas on a stage inside the college’s main chapel.

During the ceremony, I had two roles. I had to switch between proud father and photographer. As a dad, it my job to wave encouragingly and clap at the right times. As a photographer, I had to borrow from my experience in the newspaper business to get into the right spot and shoot some great photos. But it was hard for me to shoot inside the chapel. The light was transitional, and I have a limited amount of experience shooting in such conditions. Luckily, I have a trusty Nikon D40 and a long zoom lens.

The day had different meanings and feelings for parent and child. G told us he was happy but nervous. He was happy to be graduating, which I take to mean that he is getting bigger and moving on to “real” school. He told us that he was nervous, because he wasn’t sure what kindergarten would be like.

For Susan and me, it was a milestone we’ve been waiting for, and yet dreading at the same time. Unlike G, we saw the graduation coming for years. We’ve been there before. I still have vague recollections of my own nursery school graduation, and even a few pictures. But we dreaded it because it means our little boy is growing up.

But, this day had to come. Now that it is past, we can only look forward. G will be going to kindergarten at the school where I will be teaching 5th grade this year. We are ready for new milestones.

The guilt of a fun day

It’s pretty safe to say that Saturday was one of the best days G and I had together in a long time. We always have fun, but this was a great day of father-son bonding that will be remembered for years. We went to the pool mid-morning and spent a few hours there. We played with his water guns, worked on getting him ready to swim, and I dunked him a few times to show that there wasn’t anything to worry about when going underwater.

We were having so much fun, in fact, that neither of us thought about sunscreen. We put it on before we left. It was a high SPF, too, and we had it on long enough according to the instructions that it should have worked while we were in the water.

But, of course, time flies when you’re having fun, and I didn’t think about putting it on again. Who does? It wasn’t until after lunch when I went back into the pool that I noticed my shoulders start to sting. I took a look at G, who has always been lathered in SPF and scarcely ever had a tan, and his shoulders were pink, too, but not as bad as mine. I knew it was time to go.

By the time night fell, he and I were in agony. Susan, luckily, lathered us both with Solarcaine gel to take down the heat and heal the skin. It didn’t work so well for me, but it did the trick for G for the night. I woke up Sunday stuck to the shirt I had slept in and my skin was still burning. G, however, seemed fine. It wasn’t until much later in the afternoon that we noticed a real problem. G’s shoulders had blistered. That means he had a second-degree sunburn.

We read up on what to, and found that spray Solarcaine should work until the blisters pop on their own. Then we need to treat the blistered areas with Neosporin to help speed healing and reduce the change of infection.

Honestly, I have never seen anything like this before, but I’ve heard of it and lived it once. When I a little older than G, I went to Walt Disney World in Orlando for family vacation. It was the dead of winter and we were living in New England. The sun’s strength in central Florida was exponentially greater than home, so we lathered up with “suntan oil”, as it called then. Except one part of my body was left unprotected – my ears. The tops of my ears burned so bad that they blistered. I can still remember the crusty feel of those healing blisters, and I remember my classmates wondering disgustedly at why my ears looked the way they did.

So, when I look at G, I know he will heal in a matter of weeks, and we’ve already bought new, stronger, even more water-resistant sunscreen. The hard part is watching G go through this. He is suffering through a rite of passage for all redheads, but it kills me. He even asked Susan why I let this happen to him. Someone, I’m sure, could have predicted this, but not one of us did.