Regrets...

Last night was Junior High curriculum night at the school my three youngest attend. The four teachers each spoke about what they would be doing in the classroom this year, but also about how they feel about junior high aged kids. How much they love this age. How they understand the physiology of this age group. How this is the second largest growth spurt in a human being's life, second only to ages birth to two. And I cried. I knew all of these things, but still it made me cry. I cried because for the teenager this junior high experience was awful. It was awful because the teaching staff in place at that time (minus the one still there) did not understand the dynamics of teaching this age. Thought that mentally and psychologically beating the kids up was the best way to get what they wanted from them, which was students prepared beyond all measure for high school. They got that. Surely the teenager did not even have to open a book his freshman year of high school. He had already learned everything they were teaching in the honors classes. But, at what cost? I lost my child for the better part of two years. Lost him to a lack of self-esteem and a lack of belief in himself, brought on, in large part, by the crushing of his spirit by three of those teachers. My apprehension about my daughter staring junior high was due, in large part, to the experience we had before. I wish I had listened to my instinct five years ago and pulled my son out of this school and taught him at home. I really do. But, it was easier to just not make the waves. I didn't fight hard enough for my child. And my heart hurts for that decision.