Playground Fights: A Question for Parents

In the "old days" when a kid pushed another kid to the ground on the playground, it was deemed okay, even encouraged, for that kid to get up and follow through through an act of retribution. Maybe a push-back. Maybe even a punch. Especially if these were two boys. Right?

Well my son came home last night with what looked like purple-pebble scratches on the side of his face. When I asked him about it, he very convincingly said he had no idea what it was and it didn't bother him. I didn't really buy into his story, but pushed no further, thinking if it was still there in the morning, I'd consider calling the dermatologist.

Later that evening, he took my hand as we were walking out of a restaurant and quietly said, "The real story Mom is that a boy pushed me down and I fell on my face on the playground."
"Who was the boy? Was he someone in your class?" I asked. "Did anyone help you?"
"Not in my class, no."
"In 4th grade?"
"He's a boy in extended care. I didn't tell anybody."

Extended Care is the after-school-hours program where kids can stay, do their homework, play, work on the computer. It is supervised. My son didn't seek help and would not give up the boy's name. I asked him "Why?"
"Because he was nice to me afterwards." I'm not really sure what that meant, but I left it at that.

The problem I face is that this has happened before and I feel that my son may not be so well-equipped to deal with aggressive behavior in a way that empowers him. Last year, while attending a public school, my son was in a fight with a boy who ended up sitting on his head. When I picked him up a short while after the incident occurred, he was crying, the boys around him were upset and there was no counselor around to help them. I was furious at the program and spoke immediately with the Director.

We can't keep our children out of fights. In fact, I would not want to, as I am a strong believer that the playground is a fundamental learning area, where we begin to understand human interaction, for good and bad. But still, I am not sure how to react.

So three questions come to my mind immediately:
1. Should I be upset that there was no adult supervising this and intervening afterwards?
2. How do I teach my son to better stick up for himself? Physically? Verbally?  A bit of both?
3. What would YOU do?

I'd love to get some feedback.

If you fail to plan...

The episode yesterday regarding my decision to quit a group project because of complete and utter disconnect, disrespect and discouragement between one of my teammates and me (plus the fact that no one else had done any work on the project), prompted me to think about how I think about teamwork and executing group projects. It's called metacognition; i.e. thinking deeply about thinking.  I just learned that in grad school. (Sidebar: My 9 year old came home last week and told me I wouldn't be able to read his "metacognition" because he was going to read it to me at the parent-teacher conference. Huh?? )

So thinking about it, the caption above pretty much captures what I know to be true: "If you fail to plan, you plan to fail." I assumed a grad student would know that. Idiot me for assuming that in the first place.

Something else I know:  if you plan on being random, i.e. "I'll get it done whenever," your execution will pretty much tank. In the toilet. Suckeroo. But I guess they don't teach that to some undergrads.

Got me thinking about an old, old argument against minority quotas and college entrances on the base of color, creed or sports ability rather than merit.  It's really a form of discrimination that race and ethnicity specific tracks for admission even exist in this country, but they still do. They work in favor of those with lesser abilities and as a suppressive measure to those with merit. It's unfortunate that this incident got me thinking that they only way this young woman has made it this far is due to a favorable quota situation. Her attitude, work skills, ability to collaborate are anything but the high standard of her cohorts, as exhibited by her class participation throughout the semester and in particular, as a project team member.

And one last thing I know: never drag your colleagues or teammates down. Being part of a team is about helping those around you rise, together. It's about support, active listening, collegiality, comaraderie.

So I've learned my lesson: count me out of any team that fails to plan and plans to fail.

I was Bullied for Being An "Old" Student!

Well, at 53, I am an "old" student. But to actually have my age be thrown in my face by a fellow student was a real eye-opener. I guess it had to happen, right? Grad school. Boy. And to think, tonight's class had to do with Anti-Bullying rules and practices!

So it all started when I signed up for a group project on the topic of Instruction in Multilingual Classrooms. Something I know a little about -- well, the instruction in multi-lingual settings, at least, is what I've been doing most of my career. I was excited at the prospect of working in a group with Teach For America Corps members (which all but one other classmate besides me was) and was looking forward to their first-hand accounts of teaching for the past year in urban settings. At first, no one else signed up for this topic, so I figured I would end up doing a research project on a subject of lesser interest to me. Then, just when it looked like the topic was a "dead"one, two members of the class signed up.

The first time we sat together, in the following week's class, I noticed the "death to white women who don't understand Latinos" attitude on the other. My red buzzer was screaming in my ear. "Bad idea!!" it shouted. "Change teams," it urged me, yet I didn't. I thought perhaps my gut was wrong and I was just overreacting.

Trust the gut.

Sadly, it was correct. But it took me six weeks, two no-shows to group meetings, countless emails unanswered, no comments, suggestions or re-writes on numerous drafts of topic points, refusal to work on a timeline or commit to doing research to understand that this girl and I were not in the same league. Not on the same team. Not even in the same time zone (philosophically speaking). So when she told me this evening, ten days before a presentation and thorough research paper were due, as I asked her if she had her section done (as she had committed to having it done by this evening) that I was "freaking out" "too invested in the project" and "old, " I got pissed off. When she incredulously told me I was disrespecting her, I stared at her incredulously, ready to simply walk away. When she went on to say it was my "choice to have kids so maybe you shouldn't be doing this," I went ballistic. No one crosses that line. The good thing about being "old" is you can easily separate bullshit from reality.

I then did something I have never done: I quit the team. The professor offered me the ability to write up my own research paper, in lieu of doing the presentation, which is alright, although disappointing.

Then I realized my quitting was one of the first proactive acts of self-preservation I have committed in many, many years.

So "bully" to being old I say. (But if she dares use any of my material, I'll get her for plagerism!)