Let the Teacher Teach

*****************************************************************************************************************
On his first day of Kindergarten,  I made a deal with my son.  Every day, when he comes home from school, Nano needs to tell me the following things about his school day:

1.  Something that was easy.
2.  Something that was hard.
3.  Something new he learned.
4.  Something nice he did for someone else.

 Nano and I are working on this blog together, to document his journey through education.  I don't know how long it will last; heck, I don't know how long my kid will happily come home and answer the "How was school?" question with something more than a grunt and a shrug.  But that Nano shares these things with me is probably a lot less important than him contemplating his answers to those questions.  They are the kind of metacognitive stuff that we educator-folk hope all our students will consider as they leave campus each day.  More importantly, they're a simple model of the things each of us, as life-long learners, should ask ourselves when our heads hit the pillow each night.

These are his answers for today, and my questions for a lifetime of education, parenthood, and the honest, real perfection we touch without knowing it when we're in kindergarten....
*****************************************************************************************************************

First week of school and already, this thing is paying dividends.

Nano came home and reported that he made a kid cry.  It was innocent enough-- his classmate was just coloring a picture wrong, and my little rule-follower cited a favored meme:  "You're doing it wrong!"

At first, the other boy defended his creative genius.  Nano continued to inform him that he was not following the teacher's directions, causing the classmate to burst into tears, giving my son his first important lesson, and me a great quote for our shared blog:  "Dad, I should mind my own business, and just let the teacher teach!"

Of course, my boy felt bad for making his classmate cry.  His heart is intact, and on-schedule.

In this educational age of collaboration, cooperative learning, connectivity, and group empowerment, sometimes it's OK to just check your five year-old self.  To his credit, he didn't tattle-- he went right for problem (illustrating, in part, why we call him Officer Nathanael sometimes.) While Nano's corrective suggestion to his classmate came from a place of benevolence and not indignation, my boy took his first steps towards trusting his teacher and keeping his nose pointed at his own paper.  That, too, will probably pay dividends down the road.

Nano's Four Things

This is Nano, my five year old son.  This photo was taken about five minutes before my wife drove him to school and his first day of Kindergarten.  A few weeks before he posed in front of this Sago Palm in the front yard, Cars lunch box in hand and Alfred E. Newman smile stretched across his face, I made a deal with my son.  Every day, when he comes home from school, Nano needs to tell me the following things about his school day:

1.  Something that was easy.
2.  Something that was hard.
3.  Something new he learned.
4.  Something nice he did for someone else.

My son is a pretty bright kid, and I don't know entirely what I expect to hear from him, except the Truth--the kind of truth that only shines from our souls when we're five, when sweat and tears haven't watered that little seed of cynicism yet, allowing it to grow into adults who contemplate their audience and make adjustments accordingly.

Adding to the mix is that Nano's mom is an elementary teacher--at his school--and his dad is a middle school administrator.  Nano and I are working on this blog together, to document his journey through education.  I don't know how long it will last; heck, I don't know how long my kid will happily come home and answer the "How was school?" question with something more than a grunt and a shrug.  But that Nano shares these things with me is probably a lot less important than him contemplating his answers to those questions.  They are the kind of metacognitive stuff that we educator-folk hope all our students will consider as they leave campus each day.  More importantly, they're a simple model of the things each of us, as life-long learners, should ask ourselves when our heads hit the pillow each night.

So here goes.  If nothing else, Nano will probably improve his keyboarding skills.