Back to school

We had parents' night for third grade (third grade???) last night. While we sat at TH's little desk, I poked through the folder that was there, already containing a stack of papers he'd completed. Most of them had to do with "Getting to Know You" Q&A activities. On every question related to school, TH reiterated again and again that he "hates" school. Hates it. Passionately.

Disturbing to read that sort of thing, especially for us, as we value learning so highly. So, that night, I laid next to TH in his bed and asked him why he disliked school so much. Did he not like to learn things? And he told me that the only things he likes about school are recess, lunch, and gym. To myself, I thought, well, you and every other eight-year-old boy in the country.

And then he told me that he doesn't want to learn at school, he wants to learn at home. I had sudden insight into why he "hates" school so much. A good example is probably his experience the very first day. We put money into the boys' lunch accounts electronically. He had a lot of money sitting there. The first-day lunch was a bizarre offering of chicken salad or cheese sticks and Caesar salad as the main dish (yes, this is what our district offers up to K-5 on the first day of school). I knew he wouldn't eat that, so I made him a sandwich and a bag of chips and told him he could buy milks and anything else he needed in the cafeteria.

The teacher asked that morning if anyone had any checks or other money to turn in for their lunch accounts. TH didn't, he got confused, and decided that meant he had no money. So he ended up with his sandwich and chips and no drink. You feel sort of bad for him, maybe, right? It's things like this, navigating class shifts and lunch account nuances and the brand new playground that's got him all discombobulated and sitting at the front of the classroom and interacting all day and on and on...it's all this, not the learning, that he "hates" about school. I can understand that. I choose to work by myself just so I can avoid many analogous situations in the adult world.

But the story has a very TH-like ending to it. Just as I was expressing pity for him, not having his milk at lunch, he piped up (of course, we were in the car, the boys telling me their required post-school information: lunch, playground, what they learned, who they sat with, any warnings)...and he said, "But then, I found this great water fountain right outside the cafeteria, and I just went out there for my drink and the water was really cold. It was great!"

And I, still in my stupid adult way fixated on adequate caloric intake and my grownup idea of a good lunch for my son, said, "Well, I'm sorry you had only your sandwich today." And TH, awed at my sheer obtuseness, said, "But I didn't! I had that really good water, too!"

I do really love that child.