Ferris describes how she taught her son to resist in his kindergarten classroom while drawing on her own experiences as an educator. Their experience draws attention to common teaching methods that do not promote socialization or free thinking. This also highlights the issues that can arise when the value system of a school does not align with a family\u27s own beliefs - especially when alternative schools are not a viable option

Ferris, Christine

English

EDUCATE (Bank Street College of Education)

Occasional Paper Series Volume 2005 Number 14 Rethinking Resistance in Schools: Power, Politics, and Illicit Pleasures Article 9 May 2005 Teaching My Child To Resist in Kindergarten Christine Ferris Valley Community Charter School Follow this and additional works at: https://educate.bankstreet.edu/occasional-paper-series  Part of the Curriculum and Instruction Commons, Curriculum and Social Inquiry Commons, Early Childhood Education Commons, Educational Methods Commons, Elementary Education Commons, and the School Psychology Commons Recommended Citation Ferris, C. (2005). Teaching My Child To Resist in Kindergarten. Occasional Paper Series, 2005 (14). Retrieved from https://educate.bankstreet.edu/occasional-paper-series/vol2005/iss14/9 This Article is brought to you for free and open access by Educate. It has been accepted for inclusion in Occasional Paper Series by an authorized editor of Educate. For more information, please contact kfreda@bankstreet.edu.  TEACHING MY CHILD TO RESIST IN KINDERGARTEN christine ferrisAs a teacher, I always had a few kids in my class who would resist the class-room norms. They didn’t want to do what everyone else did. They weren’t necessar-ily confrontational; sometimes they would quietly go about building guns out ofmath manipulatives or drawing comics instead of writing a book report. Other chil-dren would loudly refuse to discuss their conflicts with other children and whackthem instead. When I spoke with the parents of a child who was displaying resist-ant behavior in my class, sometimes it would also be clear that the parents wereactually supporting their child’s behavior. This baffled me. Why, I wondered, wouldyou set your child up for conflict and problems in school?Now I don’t wonder anymore. Soon after my son, Owen, started kinder-garten in our area’s local public school, I not only supported his resistant behavior, Ibegan teaching him new ways to resist the classroom norms. I was setting him upfor failure in that class; I was undermining the teacher’s authority; and if my childwere still in that class, I’d do it again.In the first week of kindergarten, Owen came home every day with a star cutout of construction paper that was his reward for doing a good job. As a BankStreet graduate and a veteran progressive educator, I’m not enamored of extrinsicreward systems. I think they undermine children’s abilities to develop their ownmotivation. So right away, I began to chip away at the power that this reward sys-tem might have over my child. I told him that although I was glad that he liked hisstar, I didn’t think it was very important. Indeed, it would be okay with me if hecame home one day without a star. I then asked him how he would feel if he didn’tget a star. A good problem solver, he said, “It would be okay because when I gethome I can cut out my own star because we have lots of colored paper.”A few weeks into the school year, when the day came that he didn’t get astar, he was devastated. He told me that he had to hold his breath so the wholeschool wouldn’t hear him crying. I hugged him and reminded him that the star did-n’t matter to me. I did not ask him why he hadn’t gotten one. I reminded him toothat we could cut out our own star at home. He was soothed by this idea and thenext time he didn’t get a star he proudly announced to me that he hadn’t gotten astar but that he wasn’t upset about it.62 bank street college of educationoccasional paper series bank street college of education  63Owen is a very quiet and agreeable child, who never had behavior problemsin preschool and is eager to help around the house. He is also creative and enjoysmaking his own plans. The star reward system was applied to everyone in the class,regardless of his or her normal behavior. Most of the group got stars every day. Inhis four months at the school, Owen failed to get a star only on a handful of days.When I went to the parent conference, the only negative thing that the teacher toldme about his behavior was that sometimes during long lessons on the carpet heleaned over to one side too much. I bring this up only because I felt the reward sys-tem was particularly inappropriate for my child, as he was generally well-behaved,and the missed star only made him feel unhappy. It certainly did not impact hisbehavior in class.Owen’s kindergarten class completed a great volume of worksheets each day,and the teacher sent home more each week for him to do as homework. Initially, Ihounded him to finish his homework, but as the pile of worksheets grew into astack and he began to complain about how boring they were, I stopped making himdo them. Besides the fact that I am a believer in hands-on, interactive learning, theworksheets were often far below his capabilities (e.g., working on the numbers oneto five when he can count to 100), or developmentally inappropriate (e.g., requiringhim to practice printing upper and lower case letters on very small-lined paper). Atfirst I played games with Owen that reinforced the same skills as the assignedworksheets. He would turn in the writing and drawing that he had done about pat-terns he’d found in our house, or how he’d sorted and graphed some of his toys. Theteacher sent these back without comment. Then Owen stopped completing hisworksheets in class. He would turn the paper over and draw a picture or a map onthe back. The teacher would send them home with a note asking him to complete itfor extra homework. I would talk with him about his interesting drawing and notsend it back to school. Owen also complained that he never got to work with theother children, or even talk to his classmates except at recess. I set up some playdates to help him get to know his classmates, but I also encouraged him to talk inschool, especially during “independent work time,” when the children were sup-posed to be doing worksheets in silence while the teacher met with a small readinggroup in the back of the class. “Just whisper,” I told him. I wondered how wouldthese children ever would learn to work together in groups.At this point you may be wondering why, as a Bank Street graduate, I sentmy child to this school. I will say that the saddest part of this story to me is that theschool is reputed to be one of the best in the area. We moved to the neighborhoodjust so our children could go there. It has a very active PTA; music, art, and scienceclasses; and small class size. It doesn’t adhere to a scripted, phonics-based languagearts curriculum, as does most of Los Angeles. Its students had high test scores, butthe school also had received distinguished school awards and blue ribbon awards forinvolving the parent community, having peer mediation training, and having highlytrained teachers.Knowing that a great public school is not necessarily a progressive one, I hadtalked with an acquaintance who was a progressive educator, herself. Her sons hadattended the school, and she assured me that “It is a wonderful community.” I neg-lected to take into account that her sons had graduated from elementary school overfive years ago, and that in the intervening five years, school “reform” in Californiahad been relentlessly pressuring all schools to focus more on testing and scriptedcurriculums, and less on community building, developmentally appropriate practice,and experiential learning, while simultaneously stripping away school resources. Iwasn’t expecting whole language and block building, but I had expected social inter-action, community building, and some art. I also expected my bright, kind, quietson to have some fun and success in kindergarten.Owen became increasingly uncooperative and moody at home and wouldsometimes hide or cry when it was time to go to school, and I became increasinglydesperate to find another option for my child. I began by meeting with the princi-pal, in hopes that we had a particularly traditional teacher and that Owen couldswitch to another class. I’d had a positive interaction with her in the first week ofschool when the school secretary told us that we couldn’t ride our bikes to schoolbecause it wasn’t allowed for kindergartners. When I explained that I, of course,rode with him, she remained adamant that it was school policy that K through sec-ond graders couldn’t ride bikes to school. In another lesson on resistance, Owen andI wrote a letter to the principal asking for an explanation of this policy, and request-ing permission to ride our bikes despite the policy. The principal had agreed tomeet with us both, and said that of course we could ride bikes to school. She eventried to arrange a way for us to park the bikes on campus without irritating theschool secretary. I had been heartened by her direct response, and the fact that shehad included Owen in the meeting. It made me think that perhaps the problems Iwas noticing in Owen’s class were really problems with one particular teacher, ratherthan the school as a whole. When I asked the principal about the possibility ofOwen’s  changing classes, she quickly offered to give me a tour of the school toshow me some of the classrooms she felt were the most successful. We viewed roomafter room of children silently working alone on worksheets and walls posted withidentical “artwork.” I went home and cried and started looking for alternatives:independent schools, charter schools, home-schooling—anything but this.Owen’s final lesson in resistance came just before we pulled him out inDecember, when he came home with a lollipop in his backpack. I asked him wherehe got it and he explained that in addition to the stars, the teacher was now award-ing table points for groups of kids who were the quietest, and that whichever tablehad the most points by the end of the week got to have candy. I asked him if theother groups got candy and he said no. I asked him if that felt fair to him and hesaid no. I spoke with his teacher saying I felt using candy as a reward was problem-atic because of the epidemic of eating disorders, childhood diabetes, and childhood64 bank street college of educationoccasional paper series bank street college of education  65obesity. I told her that as a family we felt that candy should not be given as areward, and that I hoped she would consider using other types of rewards. Sheagreed to use stickers instead, and I thought we’d resolved it.Two weeks later, Owen came out of class crying. Everyone at his table hadgotten candy and he’d gotten a very small, smiley-face sticker instead. Outraged, Itook him by the hand and marched into the class demanding an explanation.Although we had been working at cross-purposes for months, the teacher and I hadnot had an outright confrontation before. She defended herself saying that I hadwanted him to get a sticker instead of candy. I was shocked to realize that con-sciously or not, she had, in fact, punished my child for my “interference” by givinghim such a clearly unequal reward compared with those of his peers. She then saidshe didn’t think we should be having this conversation in front of my child. If I hadcared at all at that point about upholding her authority in the eyes of my child, Iwould have agreed with her. Instead, I was happy to let Owen know just howwrong I thought she was.What lessons did I, as an educator, learn from this experience? What was Iteaching my child when I encouraged him to resist the cultural norms of his schooland then took him out of it altogether? Wouldn’t it have been a better lesson if I’dgotten involved in the PTA, or worked with the teachers to help change the school?It would have been, if I’d believed that change there was possible. The school stillhas an excellent reputation in the community, and most of the parents are quitehappy with it. The prevailing wisdom is that because the students get high testscores, the school must be doing something right. The suburban community inwhich the school is located is conservative, and the school philosophy is a goodmatch for many of the families there. It was not such a good match for our family.Instead, we have found a new public charter school with a strong progressive phi-losophy. We are moving again so our children can attend it. There, we can join withothers who are resisting the cultural norms to create a positive and vibrant place forour children. Helping to build this new school is a much healthier way for our fam-ily to resist. But we also learned some important lessons at our first school.I learned that it is a painful experience to be on the outside of the value sys-tem of a school. When our dissatisfaction with the school philosophy became evi-dent, we were quietly shunned by most of the other families in the class. Theteacher invited the principal to our parent-teacher conference, because, I am sure,she feared I would verbally attack her. I had become the parent I had most dislikedworking with as a teacher. Suddenly, I had an understanding of the position of these“difficult” parents. The school’s values were so far from my values as a parent, that Icould not support my child in conforming to the classroom norms without seriouslycompromising myself as a parent.Surely, in every school community, whatever its underlying philosophy, thereare families who find that the school does not support their family values, whetherthey are conservative Christians, or African-Americans, or recent immigrants, orliberal-white-middle-class families such as my own. I cannot speak for other fami-lies about why a progressive school might feel alienating, but I do know familieswho have felt that when I was their child’s teacher. These families would be guardedin their interactions, listen to my suggestions, and respond without committing totry any of them. And of course, they ignored the notes I sent home—the same wayI had ignored my son’s teacher’s notes about making him complete the worksheetshe had left unfinished in class. I do know that it is painful and ultimately untenableto place your child in a position where you must choose between helping your childto succeed in school and raising your child in a way that reflects your deepest-heldbeliefs about what is best for him or her. And I don’t think any family should bestuck with that.As an educator, I have clear ideas about what I consider to be best practice,and before becoming a parent, I advocated that all schools should be reformed toreflect my progressive educational philosophy. Now it seems much less clear to me.While I do believe that there are certain values that should never be sanctioned bythe educational system—such as white supremacy, for instance—I am not as confi-dent that my educational philosophy is appropriate for all children and their fami-lies. At the same time I realize that families may not understand the long-termramifications of different educational practices, or even what alternatives theremight be to traditional curriculums. Perhaps more opportunities for dialogue andtrue shared decision-making between parents and teachers would result in schoolsthat could better support children and families. Meanwhile, as a society, we are con-tinuing down the path of standardized testing, prescribed curricula, and less localcontrol, resulting in a monolithic sameness in public schools. Given our country’sdiversity, this means that more and more families are caught in schools that don’treflect their value systems. While charter schools, independent schools, and homeschooling are viable alternatives for some, many families don’t have these optionsavailable. I am sure that this absence of choice is damaging for the children, theparents, the teachers, and the schools.My own child now eagerly attends Valley Community Charter School. Hehas a great appreciation for the opportunities he has there to make choices, to buildwith blocks, to write his own stories, to play and work with other children. Heknows it is a special gift to be here in a way my second child will probably take forgranted. He also knows that not every adult is right, that not everyone shares ourvalue system, that being different isn’t easy, and that when you stand up for whatyou believe in, you don’t always prevail. In the end, it wasn’t part of the state-pre-scribed curriculum, but it was experiential learning.EndnotesI want to thank Jane King and Steve Quester, members of my Bank Streetconference group, for their help in writing this essay and for our continued friend-ship, despite the distances between us.66 bank street college of education

Teaching My Child To Resist in Kindergarten

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