I’m so frustrated with the public school system. Aidan had the most wonderful year in 1st grade (he’s in 5th now). Because he was tested in the 99.57th percentile in IQ, we decided to put him in a school that would challenge him. That year, he attended a private school called the Willow School. It was a wonderfully creative environment, and Aidan thrived. For example, when public schools teach geometry they lecture, then hand out papers with grids and charts and have the kids fill in the blanks and answer questions. At Willow, they had the kids build a quilt, teaching the same concepts. Totally different teaching methods, using totally different areas of the brain. The Willow School turned Aidan on to learning. He was excited about going to school every day, and couldn’t wait to tell us about the projects he was working on. 

Unfortunately, we had to change schools, and we moved him to Princeton Junior School for two years. It was a great private school, but the creativity wasn’t at the level of Willow. He did well, and was challenged, but we weren’t bubbling over with joy. With Willow to compare to, this ‘Princeton Prep’ paled by comparison, but there was no question that he was getting a great education, and he was engaged in the learning process. At the end of the second year, Matt moved his job from Princeton to New York State, and Matt felt strongly about putting him into the public school system. I acquiesced.

Aidan did okay in 3rd grade, and it was nice for him to have the social perks of having school friends live nearby. During a parent-teacher conference that year, his teachers suggested he might have ADD, because he was having difficulty paying attention in class. They recommended that we take him to a specialist. We took him to a Neurologist, who spent time with him and said he brilliant and bored, with no ADD. The 4th grade was unremarkable. Last year the teacher also suggested he might have ADD, and showed concern about his class load for 5th grade. She explained to us that Aidan could answer a complicated mathematical word problem, working it out in his mind, and would give the correct answer. If he was asked to write down how he got to the solution, he couldn’t. He was going from A to C correctly, but couldn’t explain what B was. She said that without the awareness of how he solved problems, he’d have difficulty as his workload continued to get harder.

He continued going downhill, having trouble concentrating on his studies, and this year things got rough. Aidan had no organizational skills, and was forgetting homework, forgetting to study for tests. His grades plummeted. He couldn’t concentrate, and was very overwhelmed. He was plowing through books, skimming and not gaining comprehension. We put him on medication for ADD, which really had no effect one way or another, so we discontinued them after a few weeks. Finally, at the urging of my mother-in-law, we decided to try another route. We put him into Huntington Learning Center. Over the past six months, Aidan has gained the skills that he lacked. Along with all kinds of math and English drills, they’ve helped him build his mantra: “Breathe, slow down, reread, double-check”.

 I met with Claire (his counselor at Huntingdon) recently to wrap up his program. She had some interesting notes. When Aidan is interested in what he’s learning, he sits forward and listens, and he’s obviously engaged. When he grasps the concept, he sits back and his eyes glaze over, and he goes to wherever Aidan goes when he’s bored. We call this “Aidan Land”. She said that indeed, he needs to be taught in a creative manner, and would thrive in a private school environment. This is not an option for us this year as we don’t have the funds, and the Willow School doesn’t have enough financial aid to support us. There’s a special program at his public school, called AI, or Academic Independence. It’s a magnet program that kids test into, and they bus them into a different school within the district. Aidan has tested for this, but we won’t know if he’s in until late June. 

Claire’s is very concerned about what will happen to Aidan if he doesn’t make the AI program. The amount of children the program can handle is small and limited, and admittance is based solely on test scores. That’s fine, but doesn’t take other criteria into account. For example, there’s a kid in Aidan’s class who also goes to Huntingdon, and has tested for AI. Claire said he’ll do fine without AI next year if he doesn’t make it, because he handles the public school teaching methods without an issue. Aidan will not. If he missed a single question on the test, he’s missed his chance.

After meeting with Claire, I asked his teacher if she had noticed the same behavior in Aidan. She said she did.  She agreed that Aidan needed the AI school. She agreed that Aidan turned off after he grasped concepts, and wasn’t it a shame that he couldn’t be taught at his own pace, but that’s what the whole ‘no child left behind’ was about. My response was this: Isn’t Aidan being left behind? If he continues in this vein, he’s going to lose all interest in learning. We’re going to lose this kid.

Claire from Huntingdon, April, his counselor from school, and his 5th grade teacher are all writing letters to the principal, but I’ve been assured that it’s useless. Although I know it’s out of my hands, I’m going to try to appeal to someone higher up on the chain of command in our school district. I’m coming to understand that no one in the school system is going to be an advocate for him – Matt and I need to do that for his as his parents. I’m only sorry that I’ve waited this long to step up to bat for him.

My son did a hard thing tonight. He called a friend who had been acting angry and vindictive toward him. About a month ago, he came home upset, saying that A., who he considered a close friend, had overreacted to something Sandy had said. For the next few weeks, I kept hearing how A. was by turns ignoring and lashing out at Sandy, making mean comments and getting the other boys in school to do the same.

Sandy made repeated overtures to A., trying to make up with him. But A. would have none of it. Yesterday was the last straw. During gym class, A. made a crack about Sandy on a sensitive subject that really touched a nerve. Sandy came home crying. I could tell how upset he was, because he didn’t take out his frustration on me or Sunny, but just sat and let the tears roll down his face. We were driving from school to Leo’s office, so that he and Sunny could have a daddy-daughter night at Shea Stadium, and Sandy and I could go to dinner together. On the way, Sandy was so sad, he barely spoke. Very unlike him. I emailed Leo from my cell phone to let him know what had happened, and that Sandy would need a big hug from his daddy.

When we got to Leo’s office, he took Sandy aside and talked to him a little bit. They came to me afterward and Sandy asked me to call A.’s mom. So I did (if you know me, you’ll know how hard that was for me to do). She’s really a nice lady, and she likes Sandy a lot. She said she wasn’t aware of what had been going on, but that she would talk to A., and she offered to take both boys to the movies the next night (tonight) so they could put everything behind them. She said she would call in the evening to confirm, after A. got back from his father’s house around 6.

During the day today, Leo and I started having second thoughts about throwing the two boys together before they’d had a chance to talk. At 5 o’clock, I called A.’s mom and asked her what the deal was with her son. She told me she hadn’t realized how much tension there was between the two of them, but that she thought A. was ready to reconcile, and just needed a push and a graceful way out. She agreed that they should talk rather than going to the movies so, after a quick consultation with Sandy, I offered to have him call back at 7:30 to talk to A. over the phone.

As 7:30 loomed closer, Sandy started getting cold feet. He was nervous, and I couldn’t blame him. He almost didn’t make the call, but I agreed to dial and talk to A.’s mom first. When Sandy took the phone, he took charge of the conversation. He said, “A., there are two things I want to talk to you about. One is that, if you’re mad at me, I want you to talk to me about it so I can fix it. Two, I was really hurt by what you said to me in gym, and that you got the other kids to make fun of me.” I was so proud of him for taking the bull by the horns and communicating so effectively. A. apologized for making Sandy feel bad, and accepted his apology for the thing that got him mad in the first place (whatever that was). Sandy got off the phone feeling ten times better. I think I won’t have as much trouble getting him up for school this Monday.

It’s sometimes hard for Leo and me to know when to step in and interfere in situations between our kids and their peers. We want them to learn conflict resolution skills, but not at the expense of their self-esteem. Sandy usually discourages us from interfering. The fact that he ASKED me to call A.’s mom meant that he really didn’t know what else to do. I was proud of him for asking for help, something that he often has difficulty with. I was proud of him for facing his fear of conflict. I was proud of him for taking charge of the situation, for owning up to his part in it, but demanding recognition and validation of his feelings, too. He just made a huge leap in his maturity level. Not to take away the credit Sandy deserves, but it’s nice to see evidence that we’re doing something right.

We’ve been blogging about all these intellectual and emotional things for a few weeks, and I need a little change of pace. So I’ll talk about something lighter but still close to my heart… tea. Perhaps you’ve seen mention of it before in some of my posts.

I recently was out of town and found an incredible Chinese tea shop. After browsing for about thirty minutes through rows of wooden drawers filled with an unbelievable variety of teas, I saw this little packet containing half a dozen round, dark green balls, each about the size of a ball-bearing. The label said “Golden Blossom Tea – a medium-bodied green tea.” They looked so zen and mysterious. I ended up buying the packet, just to see what was inside those little balls.

A few minutes ago, I dropped a tea ball into my mug and poured just-boiled water over it. The ball opened and bloomed in the heat of the water as I watched. Now, I’m staring into a big mug of golden-colored liquid, in which is floating the most delicate-looking blossom surrounded by sage green fronds. It smells heavenly, and tastes smooth and mellow.

But this is an unusual tea experience for me. While the visual impact of the Golden Blossom is undeniable, I’m usually all about the flavor. I like it strong, on the edge of bitter. I’m the nut who leaves the tea bag in the cup for the hour or so it takes me to drink it. Keep the milk, but give me a couple of Splenda’s to take the sharpest of the edge off. I like strong, full-bodied teas. Jasmine Dragon Phoenix Pearl. Irish Breakfast. The Republic of Tea’s Big Red Sun. Even my fruity teas have to have a bit of bite to them, like The Coffee and Tea Company’s Japanese Cherry.

My new go-to tea is Yorkshire Gold, a hearty English breakfast type that I picked up on a recent visit to a NYC tea house. In fact, this tea is so strong that I actually have to remove the tea bag after ten minutes or so, or the bitterness overwhelms me. I have to remove the bag — that should give you some idea of this tea’s strength.

Why rhapsodize over tea? What’s the big deal? You know, I just conceptualized this now. I’ve been drinking tea all my life, and my family isn’t even British. When I was a kid and hated getting up for school, my mom made me a cup of tea so I could ease into my day. As an adult, I drink tea to make me feel warm and comforted, to help me concentrate, and… well, for the taste. I like coffee every once in a while (a Starbucks decaf grande sugar-free-vanilla non-fat latte, to be specific — thanks, Fae!), but I crave tea. It’s funny, but I feel most myself when I’m drinking a cup. Is that weird?

I’ve been thinking a lot about living out of the broom closet in the suburbs. As I’ve said before, I’m not so out that I advertise our religion, but if asked directly, I’ll discuss it. My bumper sticker says “Earth, Air, Fire and Water Bind Us To Her”, which is fairly obvious, but isn’t overt. I’ve got to say that I find people – even my peers – in this town much more open minded than they were when I was younger. Although I groan at shows like “Charmed”, they’ve done a good job of bringing the idea (albeit an unrealistic one) of our religion into the mainstream.

The main problem we seem to come across is the perception that we’re Satan worshipers. I understand that this misconception comes from lack of education, and that fear is born of ignorance. I’ve had some terrible experiences with neighbors not allowing their children to play in our house because we’re Wiccan. It makes me sad for my children (who I’ve instructed not to talk about sex, politics or religion in mixed company), and it makes me sad for my neighbors. People limit themselves so much when coming from  a place of misinformation.

A Pagan list I’m on posed the question; “Why do people find Paganism so threatening?” A fellow member wrote the following version of history, which I’ve included below Although there are certainly obvious inaccuracies in the details (she wrote this as a response to a group list, not a refined piece of writing to be published), I thought it did a good job in explaining how the misconception came to be.

“Once upon a time, all the people of the world were Pagan. Then some groups began to swagger around and brag that their Deities were better than everyone else’s Deities. This caused some bitter battles, and name calling. Now not everyone used the term “Pagan” as descriptive of their life style or spiritual persuasion. That came directly from the Romans who used the term to refer to the country folks … you know, Hillbillies, Red Necks, Hicks, and basically those people who were not sophisticated in the ways of the “Townies”.

Christianity took the term and used it to discredit anyone not following its religious views. So if you weren’t Christian, you were an ignorant Pagan or Heathen. Because there were other major religions in current history, someone (I don’t know who) decided that pagans and heathens were those people who did not follow the beliefs of the “Big 3″ … Christianity, Islam, & Judaism. In the evolution of the word “Pagan”, the thought processes of those following the B3, jumped to the conclusion that if you aren’t with us, you must be against us, and since the Devil was part of their beliefs, they decided that all Pagans and Heathens were devil worshipers. It didn’t help that Pagans and Heathens went happily along their own ways, and ignored the jibes of the B3 contingents. So then, the B3 decided to force their beliefs on everyone within reach, and the great purge began! Similar to the Holocaust of recent history. Anyway, there have always been those who have resisted being mind-controlled, and wisps of reason wafted through the centuries. People wrote about the Gods and Goddesses of ancient times. They called the stories “Myths”, to pacify the shepherds of common thought. However, the time for reason came upon us, and people began to claim their rights to be Pagan, or Heathen, or Jedi Knights!

As the Pagan Community began to coalesce, the old religions were studied, and practiced. And so, Wicca was created by Gerald Gardner, as a resurrection of the Old Ways, in a new world environment. So now we have Pagan culture that is growing rapidly. One of the religions under that umbrella, is Wicca. Wicca is also a religion that encompasses witchcraft as part of its practice. (Do I have to go into how THAT came to be a derogatory practice according to some?) So, Wicca is a Polytheistic religion that practices witchcraft, and reveres the earth as the “Pagani” of old did.

Pagans can be witches .. or NOT.
Pagans can be Wiccan .. or NOT.
Wiccans are Pagan Witches
And so the story goes”

Reprinted with permission of the author, Paniteowl aka Jacci Sutton.

Dove wrote something in a recent comment on Fae’s Indoctrination Semantics post that struck me. She said: “…[T]the other day, [my son] Vincent asked me if he could be Wiccan and Christian, and I told him yes, but that he would have to study both before he could claim that path.”

He would have to study both before he could claim that path.

If you haven’t been following the debate raging in the comments on Fae’s post, we’ve been discussing the difference between teaching your values to your children and indoctrinating them into your religion, with all the negative connotations the latter seems to possess. All the participants agree that, while passing down a “my truth is the only truth” attitude is wrong, using your religion as a vehicle for teaching your values is acceptable, as long as it is made clear that there are other valid paths.

But for those who would insist that religion must remain solely individual, and that teaching religious beliefs to children is wrong, I ask the question implicit in Dove’s comment: How can a child choose the truest path for herself without having been given knowledge of any path?

One of the reasons I shied away from Judaism when I was younger (besides my skepticism of religion in general) was because I always felt I didn’t know enough to “do it right.” Being an observant Jew requires a tremendous amount of knowledge, not only of the many laws and customs, but also of a foreign language — Hebrew. Because my parents placed greater importance on my cultural identity than on my religious education, what I actually knew about my birth religion was sketchy, at best. When I grew up and found a hole in my soul, I felt lost, with no connection to any spiritual path and no idea where to begin searching for one. I am thankful every day that I stumbled onto Wicca and got over my initial resistance to it. But I had to go through a depression before I could be open to something I once considered “flaky” and “irrational.”

My children are luckier than I was. They are being well grounded in two different religious paths, with the knowledge to feel comfortable participating in either one. They are learning that there is more than one way to express their spiritual selves. They are absorbing an attitude of tolerance and understanding toward people with different belief systems. Most important, they are developing the tools to decide for themselves what path they will ultimately take, while always honoring where they came from. If Leo and I can give them that, then we’ll have done our job right.