Aren't you thrilled?

Sticking with the "anxiety in parenting" theme:

Some of the blame for an average parent's insecurities must go to the smiley-faced cheery enthusiasm parents are supposed to feel toward school. A lot of the homeschoolers I know have not experienced this first-hand, so I thought I'd dedicate a post to this.

I actually wrote about this once before, months ago in a post titled Socializing parents, based on my experience when Anya was in preschool. There were all these things asked of me, and they were always asked with the assumption that I would be gung-ho and exuberant about participating. "It's your weekend to..." was a phrase I came to dread. One of the teachers would come up, smiling, her attitude one of bestowing gifts, and say "Oh, it's your weekend to...." Our weekend to borrow the class photo album (why exactly would I want to look at other people's family photos or have them look at mine?), our weekend to borrow a stuffed bunny and then haul it around with us everywhere so we could write a little story about our weekend (ugh), our weekend to borrow the Mystery Box with its Mystery Item and write down 5 of its characteristics, so the other children could guess what it was-- and I could go on. This was on top of the Scrip program, chaperoning field trips, bringing in the snack and a toy for show and tell once a month, remembering a vegetable for the Stone Soup, charity drives, buying books through their fundraising program, and on and on. And this was for fricking preschool. We did all this when Anya was only attending school 6 hours per week.

Basically this meant that every time I brought her in, I was faced with some chore which I had no desire to carry out, and then the consequent guilt and anxiety because I wasn't "into" my kid's education. Other moms actually seemed to enjoy this stuff. I'd hear: "We're so excited about the Rodeo party, my husband's taking off work...." and just try not to stare, bug-eyed, at the Donna Reed imitation going on in the hallway. But maybe that's just me?

As another example, consider the recent school newsletter I would have received if Anya were attending our local kindergarten. The newsletter begins with this "Note from the Principal":

WELCOME TO 2006! We want to express our gratitude to all the [school name] families for a tremendous 2005. We are very pleased with all that has been accomplished and look forward with great anticipation to many more successes in 2006! It is hard to believe that we have nearly completed the first half of the school year-- Wow, time does fly! Your children have demonstrated much progress and growth so far, and they will gain so much more knowledge and experience before the end of the school year. Take time to notice and celebrate your child's uniqueness and creativity. Many more exciting days are in store. I enjoy and look forward to being a part of your child's educational experience.

I don't know how that makes you feel, but the life is sucked right out of me. I'm exhausted just reading this stuff. This school, by the way, is for kindergarten and first grade only. 'A tremendous 2005'! Oh, the accomplishments! The progress! The growth! The experience! The excitement! (Did we mention we saved a small war-torn nation from famine?)

"Many more exciting days are in store!" For me too? Really? Getting the kid on the bus by 7:35am (the time we'd need to have Anya on the bus-- still half dark at this time of year)? Getting calls from the teacher to discuss some problematic behavior (while ceding authority and expertise to the teacher, since they're the "one in charge" during school)? Remembering the permission slips, the snacks, the show and tell items, the homework (in our district, kindergarteners have homework every day), the school events, the book sales, the Scrip program, the food and clothing donations on given days? Can I be excused from the breathless anticipation?

I went and looked at the kindergarten classroom on their website. It's fine, I guess. Institutional white covered over with colorful drawings, artificial bouquets, banners and number lines and maps. They cover up those white walls with a kind of desperation (look! paintings and crayon drawings and flowers! it's cheerful! it's child-friendly! it's not a prison!). Why do they make schools like this, with the white tile and white walls and fluorescent lights? The waiting area at our local DMV is so much cozier (seriously). I'm supposed to get geeked that my child goes (or would go) to this room every day, to be told what to do nonstop, learn rudeness from other kids, be removed from me, and learn essentially nothing? And I'm supposed to participate joyfully like June Cleaver, and feel bad if I don't?

Much of this participation benefits the school directly, but one's own child only indirectly, if at all. And yet, I always felt that any lack of enthusiasm would be taken as bad parenting.

I realize that I should, by this age, be able to go about my business without paying much heed to the opinions of near strangers. No doubt, I was over-reacting to perceived social pressures. But for most parents this involves the opinion of the person in charge of their children for hours out of the day, and everyone knows the "good" kids bound for college prep have the "good" parents. You forget those Scrip coupons or the required cardboard shoebox or the donated pencils one too many times, and maybe your kid won't seem quite so yuppie class. So it's very hard to ignore. They grin at you as if to say "Aren't you thrilled?" And you madly grin back as if to say "There are no words to express just how very thrilled I am!"

Luckily I can log on to blogger and vent my spleen through snark. I feel better already!