I spent quite a bit of time researching music schools here in Washington, D.C., trying to figure out the best path forward. In the end, I decided to enroll my daughter in an informal program—one where instrument lessons and music theory are integrated seamlessly, without the pressure of standardized exams or the need for official certificates. She’s been playing the piano for two years now, and honestly, she lives for every single lesson; there's zero stress involved, yet her progress is undeniable. I wouldn't trade this experience for any rigid, traditional curriculum. If it turns out she has a real gift for it, she can always sit for the formal exams later down the road.
I really don't want this conversation to drift toward the idea that children are constantly misinterpreting their own experiences. If you look at the guidelines provided by the Mayo Clinic, for instance, they instruct that a child should speak up if anyone touches them anywhere below the waistband. Now, if we’re talking about a simple scratch on the back or a little tickle on the tummy, calling that abuse feels like a massive stretch—and we all know that isn't usually the case. But isn't the core issue simply that a child knows what feels comfortable and what doesn't? That should be our North Star. If a child feels uneasy, we need to dig into that feeling. A mere statement isn't enough; we need to evaluate the actual emotion behind it to determine if things are truly okay. Children are actually quite capable of expressing these nuances if we listen. My point is that we shouldn't just focus on a single verbalized claim, but rather pay attention to the child's overall intuition and demeanor. A single statement is always subject to scrutiny and further evaluation, whether we are looking at incidents occurring at school or within the home. We should approach every report as if it were true, yet always pair that belief with a thorough investigation and careful analysis. Ultimately, isn't it better to investigate a situation where nothing actually happened than to ignore a genuine suspicion and deal with the consequences later?
Susan James said:But why are you looking at this through such a negative lens, focusing only on being confrontational? If I promise a teacher that I won't believe every single thing my child says, I could also use that as an excuse to ignore it when my child comes home from school saying they need to make a poster tomorrow (and list what supplies to buy), or that they need to bring $3.25 for insurance, or that there's a parent-teacher meeting on Wednesday at 4 PM. Then, when I tell my kid I don't believe them, I'd just say, "Sorry, honey, I promised your teacher I wouldn't take everything you tell me at face value."
Of course people lie sometimes. Everyone lies eventually. Usually, it happens when they think someone won't be able to handle the truth or that the truth will lead to negative consequences. So, I don't see any point in making promises to a teacher.
And it isn't funny at all.
By the way, every story has two sides—or as many sides as there are people involved and witnessing the event. There is no such thing as absolute truth. The fact that teachers are afraid of what kids might report and how parents might react is just... well, life.🤷 But I'm not sure that being "funny" about it is going to ease that fear. Nor does it ease my own fear that my child might say something about our home life at preschool, school, or the doctor's office, leading to an investigation by the authorities.
That quote is only humorous if the context is lighthearted and stress-free. We once had a second-grader in school who burst into tears one day; when his teacher asked why, he claimed his mom was just lounging on a brand-new leather sofa sipping bourbon. It caused quite a stir. After a thorough investigation, it turned out there was no issue with drinking and certainly no fancy new furniture; the boy was simply upset because his mother promised to pick him up early and didn't show. Then there are those instances where a teacher assigns an interview with a significant figure in the child's life, and the child tells everyone they have to interview a celebrity or a pop star. They simply overlook or misinterpret the part where that "significant figure" could be a father, mother, grandmother, grandfather, or anyone else close to them. I believe that every statement a child makes should be treated with seriousness and importance, yet approached with a healthy sense of critical thinking by listening to all sides of the story. To illustrate, here is another classic example: "Kids, what are you doing this weekend?" "Playing." "Are you playing alone or with someone?" "Alone. Mom and Dad are playing in the attic, and I'm not allowed up there because I know those are games for adults..." Was there actually adult business happening in the attic, or were they just dealing with a termite infestation? Who can truly say...
urbantinker8 said:but a curriculum remains a curriculum, regardless. instead of some weird plural like "curricula" being replaced by something elsea, the standard American version "curriculums" has become the norm. though, I guess you can't really call the singular "curricul" either.😉
I honestly don't see why a kid would need to draw their family four separate times for four different subjects in elementary school. it's pretty clear the textbooks aren't exactly coordinated. but I suppose that’s where the teacher comes in, to think about whether they should give the kids the exact same assignment for both English and science. and they're especially there to decide if they really want to spend four years having kids color things in aimlessly.
I imagine anyone who is reasonably sane and has even a little bit of experience would probably try to be a bit more creative when assigning homework.
Karen Richardson3 explained everything beautifully, and I thank her for it, though I must add one clarification: I never claimed that N was the plural of "curriculum" (that's G), rather that the plural form is "curriculums."
That is exactly my point regarding the lack of coordination between textbooks and the nonsensical tasks teachers demand from students. How is any sane person supposed to understand the reasoning behind it? I can only speculate, but I truly believe it has nothing to do with how much experience a teacher has. If we are talking about a systemic issue—assuming this even qualifies as a system—then it shouldn't be designed in a way that allows children, and by extension their parents, to be intellectually stifled.
Lawrence Torres56 said:Honey, if you've got such a massive problem with the curriculum and the way it handles instruction and training, why not take it up with the Department of Education? They're the ones calling the shots on stuff like that. Besides, you say you're a teacher? That's great! That actually gives you more leverage to go in there and make a difference... personally, I think letter grades are totally fine; I have zero interest in hearing endless praise about my kid, and I definitely don't want to see important issues swept under the rug just because someone prefers descriptive feedback over hard numbers. And let's be real, school isn't "preparing kids for life" anymore; those days are long gone when kids used to learn how to cook, sew, or build useful things around the house. So, please, stop talking nonsense—as a teacher, you should know better than that... and besides, as a teacher, you're obligated to follow the state-mandated plan and program if you actually care about these kids, because their future education relies on that standardized knowledge, not on whatever individual philosophy a certain teacher decides to follow.
It’s clear you aren't actually reading the arguments; you're just typing. We are discussing a systemic failure to teach and evaluate functional competencies—things like logical reasoning, critical thinking, abstraction, and generalization... (and before you start, I am not talking about learning to knit or building scale models here...) as well as essential skills like literacy, verbal communication, motor skills, and social intelligence. How can one possibly measure the development of these complex skills through mere numerical grades? At least not in any capacity that isn't fundamentally flawed.
urbantinker8 said:I honestly find myself wondering just how many of those teachers who handle four-year-olds are constantly assigning kids tasks that are, frankly, completely pointless.🤷 Even if someone actually wanted to go down that route (though I can't imagine why anyone would—🤔), the modern American school curriculumum—well, it wouldn't really let you get away with it anyway, since it’s packed with such meaningful, structured assignments that you simply wouldn't have the time to squeeze in all that extra, useless busywork.
*curriculum (singular), curricula (plural) 😉
The Etymology behind it is actually quite straightforward: "curriculum" stems from the idea of a race, a lap around a track, or a specific course of movement. In American English, we don't typically retain those Latin suffixes when we adapt words from the original Latin roots. You see it all the time—take "atrium," which becomes "atrium" here, or how "studium" shifts to "study," or how "instrumentum" simply evolves into "instrument," meaning a tool or a means to an end. It’s a constant process of linguistic streamlining. It becomes particularly grotesque when you start grafting American linguistic suffixes onto Latin grammatical endings.
So many teachers seem content to feed children nothing more than mindless, repetitive busywork. I recall one particular instance that was quite glaringly obvious, yet there is a much more insidious type of indoctrination happening beneath the surface in classrooms across all grade levels. Honestly, don't even suggest that I should pull my kids out of school just to escape this. What is the actual point of having a first grader draw their family four separate times—once for social studies, once for English, once for religion, and again for a foreign language class? It’s utterly redundant. And what about those endless US Army drill-style exercises scattered throughout various subjects, where students are expected to complete sentences based solely on what the textbook author deems "correct"? If a child happens to parrot a specific word directly from the prompt instead of using their own vocabulary, they are suddenly rewarded for "completing" the task. Is this truly education, or just a lesson in blind compliance?
Lawrence Torres56 said:🤣What does letter grading even have to do with the actual curriculum?... or even more so, how does it relate to parents and the way they approach teaching their own kids? 🤷 It's not just that you completely missed the mark with the boss, you totally missed the mark with the whole station too... 😉 Seriously though, why don't you try to figure out what your actual issue is first? Is it the grading system? Is it this idea of learning through rote memorization instead of actual life lessons? Or is it the parents who refuse to teach their kids that while they have their own way of doing things, there are actual societal norms in the world that they're eventually going to have to deal with? 🤷
Of course there’s a connection between the two. I really don't have the energy to provide an exhaustive breakdown here; if the link between the curriculum and grading scales wasn't clear in my last post, I suspect a deep dive into how they intersect won't do much good either. Still, I can't just let it slide without mentioning that the current curriculum completely overlooks the integration of functional outcomes and developmental milestones. It all circles back to our broken assessment system, where formative evaluation is either treated as a superficial afterthought or ignored entirely. The boss is where he should be and the station is right where it belongs, but it seems to me you’ve boarded the wrong train entirely. Education and training—whatever you want to call it—ought to serve the purpose of sustaining life itself; there really isn’t much debate to be had there. However, preparing a child for the world shouldn't be synonymous with recruiting future cogs for a globalized machine that recognizes nothing but the bottom line. I have made my position on this quite clear. I will never view my own children, nor those entrusted to my care, as mere instruments to facilitate someone else's gain. Should they be required to perform tasks they dislike or find difficult, then yes, they certainly ought to learn how to persevere; but to teach children to engage in meaningless, lifelong drudgery simply to satisfy the whims of future employers, all while stifling every other facet of their unique personalities? To me, that feels like nothing short of violence. It all circles back to the core issues: the curriculum, the actual lesson plans, and those outdated textbooks, not to mention the entire grading system used in our elementary schools. Is it any wonder things feel broken when the very foundation of how we teach and evaluate students is so fundamentally flawed?
I can't believe I'm actually sitting here typing this out, but seriously, does anyone else feel like we’re just spinning our wheels in this endless cycle of nothingness? It’s like, you wake up, you grind through the day, you deal with the usual nonsense, and then you realize you haven't actually moved an inch from where you started. Is it just me, or is the whole vibe lately just... heavy? Like, I’m trying to stay positive and get things done, but sometimes it feels like I'm running through waist-deep mud just to reach a finish line that keeps moving further away every single time I get close. Does that even make sense? Or am I just overthinking the entire situation again? kaže: You've got it all wrong. Seriously, you couldn't be more off base if you were trying. I mean, seriously, what does my GPA actually have to do with how I perform on the field? Like, do you honestly think that being able to ace a midterm in a stuffy lecture hall somehow translates to having the grit to make a clutch play when the clock is ticking down in the fourth quarter? It’s wild to me how people try to draw this direct line between a letter grade on a transcript and actual athletic instinct. Does knowing the intricacies of macroeconomics somehow help you read a blitz or tighten up your defense? Honestly, it feels like such a stretch, doesn't it?
Honestly, you can't just breeze through this; the teacher is actually looking at the quality of your assignments and how much effort you put into keeping your notebook organized, because let me tell you, that stuff definitely counts toward your final grade.
Honestly, I find it kind of pathetic that we’re still out here grinding through these massive homework assignments just to chase some arbitrary letter grade, you know? Like, does anyone actually believe that cranking out pages of busywork for a GPA is a legitimate way to learn anything meaningful? It feels so hollow. The whole point of this assignment is really just to get some reps in, you know? It’s all about getting that practice under your belt.
Look, I don't know if you want to call it harsh or whatever, but let's be real here—if a teacher hands out an assignment, it’s on the students to actually get it done, right? It's pretty basic stuff. And honestly, once the work is turned in, isn't it totally fair for them to face the consequences, whether that means getting a pat on the back with a reward or taking a hit with a penalty? I mean, how else are you supposed to learn how the real world works? So, today they’re handing out these little participation trophies and performance reviews, but tomorrow? Tomorrow we’re all just sitting around waiting for that paycheck to actually hit our accounts... or are we just supposed to sit here and act surprised when the boss decides the best way to reward our blood, sweat, and tears is with a heartfelt "thanks for everything" and a pat on the back? Seriously, is that the new corporate standard now?🤷
I honestly will never wrap my head around why parents seem to think kids can just magically figure out how to walk, run, or swim—let alone ride a bike—without anyone ever stepping in to give them a little push, yet when it comes to actually learning how to read and write, suddenly everyone acts like you need to dangle a massive carrot in front of them just to get them moving? Is it just me, or is that total madness? Like, you don't exactly hand a toddler a gold star or a brand-new iPad every time they successfully navigate a sidewalk, but the second a kid opens a book, it’s all about the rewards and the constant motivation to keep them from checking out, right? It makes zero sense. 😕
I mean, honestly, I just will never wrap my head around why everyone is so absolutely terrified of a simple letter grade, you know? Like, why is there this massive, collective meltdown every time a GPA or a final mark comes out, and why are people constantly pushing for these endless, wordy descriptive evaluations instead? Is a number really that scary?😁, Look, the whole issue isn't even about trying to motivate these fifth graders; it’s that there’s zero incentive built into those descriptive grade systems in the first place. How are you supposed to spark any drive when the feedback is just so vague? Honestly, if you hop on Facebook and find one of those groups where kids post their progress reports, you'll see exactly what I mean. It’s pretty hilarious, actually—you see these kids absolutely roasting their own grades and making fun of how useless they are.😉
I totally get where people are coming from when they say you have to bribe kids with grades just to get them to care about history, dive into the classics, or bother learning Latin and some old-school grammar, but honestly? I just don't see the logic in forcing them to memorize a multiplication table like it’s some kind of life-or-death survival skill they'll need for the rest of their lives. Like, seriously, what is the end goal there? 😕
Do you honestly believe that a bunch of first graders actually grasp the idea that what they’re grinding through in class today is going to be the stuff they actually need to survive in the real world later on? Like, do they really sit there thinking, "Hey, if I master this math right now, it’ll pay off when I'm an adult"? Of course not! They're just kids! So why on earth would we even bother trying to motivate them with the promise of some distant, theoretical future utility? It's kind of ridiculous when you think about it, isn't it?😲 I don't know, man, maybe it’s just that my kids—and honestly, half the kids I hang out with—aren't exactly cutting-edge when it comes to this stuff, so they probably need a little extra nudge to care about things that, let's be real, are completely irrelevant to their lives right now...🤷
I mean, if we’re following that line of reasoning to its logical conclusion, why even bother sweating over multiplication tables anymore? We’ve all got smartphones and high-powered calculators in our pockets 24/7, right? And honestly, what's the point of drilling cursive handwriting when most people's signatures look like a caffeinated scribble on a Starbucks cup anyway? It’s like, why stress about mastering grammar rules when Microsoft Word or Grammarly can just swoop in and fix every little mistake for you? Is there actually any point to learning the fundamentals when technology basically does the heavy lifting for us?😲 I mean, seriously, what is even the point of dragging ourselves to school every single day? Like, why are we even bothering with all this?
It pains me to have to say this, but this kind of hollow reconciliation—this way of making peace by simply sacrificing the youngest among us, and even the adults, to the grind—is exactly how the system manages to stay so stagnant, so utterly senseless, and so profoundly cruel. If you really want to go down this road, let's be honest: there is no numerical grading system in an adult's life—well, unless you’re counting the high-stakes world of Wall Street or those shallow social circles where people rank others like they're reviewing a menu. In the real world, we navigate friendships, love, our homes, family dynamics, the chaos of daily events, our own emotions, health, personal growth, and our careers using descriptive nuances, not digits. So, what exactly kind of "preparation for life" are we talking about if children are fed feedback consisting solely of a number, often stripped of any actual context or explanation? Schools try to use these grades to prep kids for professional accountability, but that is such a tiny, narrow slice of the vast reality awaiting them. Someone might graduate as a straight-A student in the corporate ladder, yet when they face the messy, complicated web of human relationships in their private lives, there won't be a scorecard waiting for them. Life isn't a multiple-choice test; it’s far more intricate than that. You’ll find yourself receiving praise and criticism simultaneously, or being met with a demand and a compliment all in one breath. How can a single digit possibly prepare anyone for that level of complexity? As both a mother and an educator, I find myself staring at certain assignments and wondering if we’ve collectively lost our minds. Occasionally, a teacher hands out something that is just plain nonsensical—an exercise that lacks any real substance or logic. If it happens once in a blue moon, fine; you shrug it off and move on. If it happens five times, well, maybe it's just a bad week. But when you realize that this kind of intellectual emptiness has been drilled into a child's head year after year, doesn't it make you wonder what we are actually accomplishing? Are we really going to sit here and pretend that brainwashing a kid into accepting mediocrity is somehow part of a legitimate education? I know this one teacher who spends the entire four-year elementary school stretch forcing her students to color things in; every single assignment seems to require some sort of coloring task for their homework. It’s reached a point where a kid is spending roughly thirty percent of their time at home just coloring away. Honestly, if I were a parent in that classroom, I don't think I could stomach it past first grade—maybe even sooner than that. And please, don't even start with me about "developing fine motor skills." Once you’ve reached adulthood and realize your employer is assigning you tasks that border on the absurd, you’re faced with a rather grim crossroads. You find yourself trapped in a cycle of pointless errands—transcribing data that’s already sitting right there in the spreadsheet, driving across town to the courthouse just to drop off a single document, racing back to the law firm, only to be sent right back out again when a simple errand could have been handled in one efficient trip. Or perhaps it’s even more surreal, like being forced to spend two weeks working alongside contractors on the boss's new suburban home, despite the fact that your actual training and expertise lie in an auto repair shop. When life becomes this disjointed, you really only have two choices: do you swallow your pride and endure the nonsense just to ensure the paycheck clears, or do you walk away entirely? Is it better to quit and take a job as a delivery driver, even though you were trained as an attorney, or perhaps pick up a hammer as a mason, even though you’re meant to be under the hood of a car? At what point does the dignity of a career become worth less than the sheer absurdity of the daily grind? When you're just a kid, you don't really have a choice in the matter. If you happen to have parents who spend every single day drilling into your head that you need to be compliant—that you have to perform these utterly mindless tasks just because some teacher at school demanded it—you’re essentially being groomed to become an adult who functions as nothing more than an excellent little slave. I’m not suggesting that a parent should go to war over every single assignment that seems irrational (after all, some things that look pointless might actually serve a purpose, or perhaps it was just a one-off moment of stupidity from the faculty), but if there is a persistent pattern of turning children into obedient drones who lack any sense of critical thinking, then in my view, we are looking at a form of systemic abuse that a parent is obligated to address. And what happens if the child possesses a slightly stronger personality? What if they intuitively sense the injustice behind these arbitrary demands, yet they end up receiving failing grades, and you—their own parent—simply advise them to stay submissive at all costs? What exactly are you doing to that child's soul? Standardized molds and rigid structures have their place in certain aspects of upbringing, sure, but where are all the other dimensions of development?
1. Disrupting class: causing chaos, being loud, talking back after being told to stop, yelling
2. Littering
3. Using your phone
4. Harassment, shoving, or throwing stuff at people
5. Gambling
SERIOUS OFFENSES
reprimand penalty:
1. Cheating using unauthorized tech (tablets, phones, etc.)
2. Belittling, insulting, or spreading lies and rumors
3. Bringing in or using drugs, alcohol, or cigarettes
4. Bringing in unauthorized people who cause damage to the school or others
5. Vandalism resulting in significant damage
SEVERE OFFENSES
strict reprimand in middle school, or a warning before expulsion in high school:
1. Inciting violence (this includes chanting about it or filming fights)
2. Falsifying reports
3. Promoting group hate speech
4. Theft, destroying official school records, or extortion (like shaking down another student for cash)
5. Bringing weapons or dangerous items onto campus
EXTREME OFFENSES
transfer to another school or outright expulsion:
1. Forging official school documents
2. Posting material
online or any other way that ruins someone's reputation, honor, or dignity
3. Grand theft—basically stealing in a dangerous or brazen way, like breaking and entering or bypassing security to get to property
4. Threatening the safety of students or staff
by using weapons or dangerous objects
5. Violent behavior
The rules haven't changed, but so many areas remain dangerously vague. For instance, if a parent and child both insist the kid wasn't actually using their phone—claiming it was just sitting under the desk or on the bench—how is a teacher supposed to prove it was actually in use? Or if a student is caught cheating during an exam, they can always just deny it ever happened. And if an incident occurs within two weeks of the end of the school year, no disciplinary measure can be issued because there simply isn't enough time left to evaluate whether the student's behavior has actually improved! There is plenty more where that came from. And if a parent of an Elementary School student refuses to accept a transfer to another school? Well, then everyone is just stuck. One solution would be cameras. But I wonder if teachers would actually agree to that... most probably would, but some certainly wouldn't. And what about parents during conferences? Whether in person or over the phone. And what would we do about the locker rooms near the gym, where all sorts of things go down? The other solution: just take the teachers' word for it when they say a student said a certain profanity, rather than pretending the kid was just stuttering through a math term...
First off, these academic competitions are setting a terrible precedent. I wouldn’t be against them if they actually involved the entire class—say, at least 75% of the students from a single grade level participating together. Secondly, having a high school graduation exam that focuses solely on English, math, and a first foreign language really calls the importance of every other subject into question. Even as an English teacher myself, I don't see why my subject should be elevated to one of the three pillars of such an assessment. That said, once you get to college, everyone should certainly be required to pass basic grammar, spelling, and stylistics. Beyond that, these exams don't test oral communication at all. Reading comprehension is just tucked away as part of literature requirements, which is frankly useless for most university programs. Thirdly, we should have standardized state exams throughout middle and high school under controlled conditions, rather than dumping everything into one massive, high-stress final exam. These tests ought to serve as feedback for both the schools and the teachers, providing students with scores they could actually use—perhaps by selecting their eight best exam results in a specific subject to qualify for further education. Fourth, a teacher's or a school's grading system shouldn't be reduced to a single exam or limited to just one graduating class. Looking at a few snapshots of instruction tells you nothing; anyone can design two perfect lesson plans. And don't even get me started on how much administrative paperwork says about actual quality. Fifth, the current teaching methodologies for various subjects are completely incapable of assessing functional abilities. The real issue lies in the failure to measure baseline versus end-of-year results, yet nobody seems to want to talk about that. The only field where this measurement is clear and unambiguous is in physical education, simply because they have a stopwatch. I could go on, but I honestly don't have the energy.
fadedranger2 said:I wouldn't jump to conclusions about anyone based on appearances alone; my primary concern would be whether they possess the necessary expertise and professional qualifications for the role. That said, if I were selecting someone for a customer-facing position within a government agency, and I had two candidates with identical credentials, I would naturally lean toward the individual with a more conventional look—someone who doesn't, for instance, have heavy tattoos covering their entire arms or other highly unconventional features.
If it’s truly bothering you, then perhaps it is time to seek out some professional guidance: start with a dermatologist. They might actually have a viable solution. If that fails to yield results, you could consider plastic surgery. Don't fall for those flashy TV commercials for miracle creams; while certain topical treatments might offer some relief, shouldn't you consult a specialist first to avoid throwing your money down the drain? (As far as I understand, they can be effective on fresh scars... though one can never be entirely certain.) To pursue plastic surgery through insurance, you can get a referral, but the process is tedious: you visit a primary care physician, who then refers you to a psychiatrist, who finally provides the necessary opinion stating that the procedure is essential because it’s hindering your ability to live a normal life. Until then, there are always long sleeves. Who cares if you’re a little uncomfortable when it's 95 degrees out? Some people wear long sleeves in the middle of a scorching American summer simply because they are self-conscious about scars, have sensitive skin, or just prefer the style. The deeper issue, however, is learning to accept your own history and refusing to let it become a source of self-condemnation so that you can move forward. If you are doing okay now, then the past is behind you. If you aren't, then by all means, seek professional help.
I remember one particular day back when we had social studies, history, economics, foreign languages, and those various character education classes on the schedule. I let her work on her homework during after-school care, but when it came to math—a subject she hasn't quite mastered yet—I make a point to pull her aside earlier whenever possible. I have her tackle those assignments at home instead, just to ensure she’s actually focusing and working independently, rather than just sitting there waiting for someone else to finish so she can mindlessly copy the answers off the chalkboard. When she works alone like that, she has a set amount of time and zero distractions. If she doesn't get the answers right, I give her extra practice problems—not as some sort of punishment, mind you, but simply to build that muscle memory. That’s my take on the quality of homework completion in public schools, though I certainly don't think the teacher is to blame when you're dealing with a classroom of 26 students.
A few insightful posts here: Azzura, Larry Walker24, and Jessica Jones2.
Beyond all the points already raised, it would be incredibly useful to dig into the specifics: what kind of assignments are actually being handed out, how much of it can students tackle on their own with actual focus, and what else is occupying their attention—what are they watching, listening to, or doing while they work? What does their routine look like before and after they sit down to study?
I’ve been working in the school system for 23 years now, and I can’t help but feel that over the last few generations, students are struggling to grasp even the most fundamental concepts of the American language, whereas previously, they seemed to navigate much more complex material and denser curricula with relative ease. Critical thinking, logical reasoning, abstract thought, analysis, synthesis—these things just don't seem to stick as easily anymore, especially when it comes to applying them to real-world situations. I find myself wondering if the culprit is this modern lifestyle—the constant pull of television, computers, the lack of face-to-face socializing, and the decline of unstructured play among peers. Could it be a lack of physical activity or poor nutrition? What about the role of the family? Or is it simply a matter of motivation—interests that the NPIP doesn't account for? And where do parents fit into all of this?
I won't fall into the trap of saying everything used to be better, because in many ways, it wasn't. But there was once an implicit understanding that a child was responsible for their own homework and studying. I don't recall any parents hovering over us to help with assignments back when I was in school, nor did anyone offer us sympathy for the fact that we had to put in the work.
Nowadays, I hear endless lamentations about how "poor" children are being overwhelmed, as if everyone else is at fault for their failure to achieve top results. This mindset, which breeds a generation of fragile, incapable, and lethargic individuals, starts in early childhood. They aren't required to exert themselves over anything; everything is served to them on a silver platter. From having virtually zero responsibilities at home to parents packing their school bags and micromanaging their schedules, they aren't even expected to tidy up their own toys, let alone contribute to household chores or solve a single practical problem.
To be fair, I haven't been an exception either. As a mother, I have undeniably made myself far too available to my children, stepping in to handle things they really should be managing themselves. But I am starting to change. I've noticed that my younger daughter actually thrives when she's given responsibility and allowed to navigate her own daily trifles. My husband helped convince me that shielding her from every minor struggle is actually detrimental; she won't break if she isn't catered to in every situation where she is perfectly capable of finding her own way. And honestly, I’m seeing progress in just a few months.
I recognize that there are significant issues within the current NPIP—anachronisms, inaccuracies, sheer nonsense, and redundant content—as well as flaws in teaching methods. However, I am not in favor of blindly shrinking the NPIP; in some areas, I would actually expand it. That said, I firmly believe that an education where a child is merely a passive vessel for information—where they don't actively engage or struggle to grasp and internalize knowledge—is fundamentally detrimental to their development. I recently learned—and I feel a bit embarrassed that it took me this long to realize—that an IQ of around 100 at age five can fluctuate anywhere from 120 down to 80 by age 19, depending entirely on the activities one engages in. It isn't just about the quantity of stimulation, but the quality. What exactly are we doing to our children by allowing their minds to remain idle? It seems painfully obvious.
Ultimately, we need to overhaul the curricula, refine our teaching methods, and shift the cultural attitude that suggests a child is being "mistreated" simply because they have to work hard every single day.
And one more thing: some assignments are genuinely pointless, purely reproductive, or just empty formalities. People often dismiss certain tasks as useless, asking what they will ever use them for in life. But if those tasks serve to build cognitive skills and functional abilities, then even a seemingly trivial assignment can be profoundly valuable.
I still find myself thinking that a letter grade isn't really helpful feedback—not for the parent, and certainly not for the child. Perhaps a percentage makes more sense if we frame it differently: look, this glass is full (show a drawing), and this one is yours (show another drawing), but there is still so much room left in your glass for more knowledge... see how much? We’ll just keep practicing until everyone’s glass is brimming. The argument usually given is that kids need to get used to being graded, or that by fifth grade, they need to be prepared for whatever comes next, including failure. But let's be honest: life's reality isn't defined by whether you got an A or a C in some subject. Even in the most cutthroat corners of American capitalism, where everything feels like a constant, relentless competition, a single grade doesn't dictate your worth or your future.
Clothing, meals, the everyday essentials—leave those to the parents. As for the godparents? That’s where the real gifts come in. I’ve put together a few thoughts, though one could go on forever: A rugged backpack, maybe something for hiking or long trips (around $200 - $167) A sturdy tent (maybe $500 - $333) A high-quality piece of luggage (around $500 - $333) A bicycle (roughly $500 - $667) Rollerblades or ice skates (about $300 - $200) Fine art prints or some watercolor sets (perhaps $1000 - $667) A substantial book, a monograph, or a heavy dictionary (around $300 - $333) Jewelry A watch An overnight getaway for two (roughly $400 - $200) A surprise day trip—think Disney World or white-water rafting... A flight in a small plane or a hot air balloon (somewhere around $100) Skydiving, provided the parents don't have a heart attack (about $100) Art supplies: an easel, drawing boards, acrylics, brushes (around $200) Two tickets to that one concert everyone is dying to see Laser hair removal for the girls (if the parents agree, of course) An above-ground pool (maybe $300 - $333) A foreign language course (around $500 - $333) A sewing class Singing lessons A sewing machine, if they actually show an interest Speed reading classes Cooking classes A camera (around $333) A pet—dog, cat, fish—pending parental approval Planting a tree, if there's a yard and the parents allow it, along with the necessary tools A piece of furniture for their room, if they have one, and if the parents are on board (an armchair, a vanity, perhaps some eccentric lamp...) Starter kits for a hobby, like jewelry making or millinery... A telescope A microscope I could keep listing things until tomorrow. It doesn't always have to be a physical object to hold onto; it can be an experience that lingers long after the thing itself is gone—something that encourages them to explore the world or stay active...
George Peterson said:I’ve been following the discussion, though I find myself skimming through because you all certainly have a lot to say. My daughter, L., is starting first grade and will be attending after-school care. Almost every day she has some sort of extracurricular activity lined up—either sports or language classes. Generally, everything at school seems to be fine, but I think it’s unrealistic to expect a single after-school instructor to sit down and drill reading or writing with every individual child. At the start of the term, there were 38 kids assigned to one teacher. They eventually realized that was a mess and hired another person, so now it's 23 kids per teacher. In my opinion, that’s still far too many, especially considering they have students with special needs in the mix. My L. is bright, but she’s headstrong and quite spirited; emotionally, she’s more like a five-year-old. She’s also about as fast as a snail. She might finish two-thirds of her work during class, but in after-school care, she might finish half the homework, sometimes all of it, and sometimes nothing at all because she’s just quietly doodling or playing while the teacher fails to notice she hasn't actually written anything down. I’ve been advised to have her practice more at home to build up her speed. I know that simply doing homework isn't enough to achieve that. I suspect we occasionally hold teachers to impossible standards on one hand, and on the other, we demand way too much from the children. Just yesterday they were playing around without a care in the world, and then suddenly, we expect them to have a sense of time management, a grasp of their obligations, the responsibility to meet deadlines, and the sheer concentration required to remember what their actual assignments even are.
Besides, does anyone actually need grades? Or did you already realize everything you wrote without needing a report card to tell you? How do these grades even affect your little girl? Do you honestly believe that a letter grade is going to magically instill speed, a sense of time, or better study habits?
Raymond Wright4 said:Before you start asking a mountain of heavy questions, how about the child passes preparatory ear training first? Only after that comes the audition and the possibility of enrolling in the desired instrument, though keep in mind that piano is a highly sought-after option and the competition is fierce. It only makes sense to think about the next steps after that.
Music school is truly no small matter. I have two daughters in music school, and a third will likely follow their path. It seems that in recent years, my wife and I basically live for music school. 😵
So, the older one is entering the 5th grade of music school (which is 6th grade in elementary school), which means: 2x weekly ear training + instrument 1x weekly orchestra 2x weekly choir (noting that orchestra and choir are not mandatory).
Intense, isn't it? And that is just the regular curriculum. Of course, on top of that, she should be practicing daily and completing ear training assignments...
Then, that "unfortunate" choir becomes successful and they get cast in two operas (Little Chimney Sweep and Carmen), competitions... and suddenly the choir becomes their primary activity. There were days when she left for elementary school at 8:00 AM and didn't get home from music school until 10:30 PM. Therefore, it is highly desirable for the music school to be close to both home and elementary school.
The younger one is in the 2nd grade of music school (3rd grade in elementary), but she is also in the choir, which means: 2x weekly ear training + instrument 2x weekly choir
And then, on top of everything, competition rehearsals kick in, making choir a daily obligation.
In short, at times, music school can turn into a horror story, even given the fact that the children are independent and, in most cases, take the bus to school themselves.
On the other hand, the joys are immeasurable. For instance, just yesterday: The child (the younger one) was overjoyed. 🎉
The older one just left a friend's birthday party to head to choir rehearsal (even though it's Sunday afternoon), but the reward is enticing. They are going to a competition in Venice this May.
Ultimately, music school can become a massive challenge and occasionally a burden, but it brings so much beauty and is worth every single minute and every cent spent... I will remember the face and the words of my daughter for the rest of my life when she walked out of the premiere of Little Chimney Sweep saying, "Dad, I am so happy I could cry." I highly doubt she would have felt that way if she had simply received two A's in math and history.
I'm asking all these tough questions specifically because I realize that choosing music school isn't a decision you make for just two weeks. I don't doubt for a second that she'll pass the entrance exams... After one performance, we actually got calls from three different professors from the Chicago academies, but Chicago is a bit of a trek for us... especially if I have to wait around all day for a single lesson... What worries me more is whether those two hours of ear training and two hours of instrument will require us to come in four times a week, or if it can be squeezed into two days. And I wonder how difficult the ear training will be in the 2nd year. I'm curious about the instructors too... What about the vocational program? Is the ear training integrated there...? Does anyone have experience with the piano teachers over in the suburbs?
I find myself wondering what people’s actual experiences have been with a functional music school? How does the curriculum actually unfold on a day-to-day basis? For a child in those first three or four grades, how many hours a week are we really looking at? What are the genuine advantages of choosing this type of institution, and just how much flexibility can one expect when it comes to scheduling? The reality is, we live 12 miles outside of Washington, D.C., and since she attends elementary school here, the area around Washington, D.C. is quite manageable for music lessons—provided we aren't stuck waiting months for an opening. Does anyone have specific piano instructors they would recommend?
Our secondary option would be the Berklee College of Music over in Newport. Little Carmen mentioned she has her heart set on the piano. What is the reputation of the piano faculty there? We assume everyone is highly skilled, of course, but what we truly need is someone spirited—someone capable of building a genuine rapport with a child so she doesn't feel constant pressure.
Any other suggestions regarding piano studies and the early grade levels would be more than welcome. Ultimately, our goal is for her to play and to actually enjoy it. I have no grand ambitions for her to become a professional musician; once she’s older, I’ll let her decide for herself, and she can show me if that's the path she wants to take. I certainly wouldn't want music to become a source of stress or a heavy burden that eventually drives her to quit altogether.
In an elementary school setting, both summative and formative assessments should exist—or at least, they ought to. Yet, formative tracking of progress is frequently missing altogether, or it’s treated as something arbitrary, a secondary concern that people claim isn't particularly vital.
The grading criteria themselves are often so vague that neither the parent nor the child receives any real sense of what is actually required to earn a specific grade. The core issue here is that the Department of Education mandates that the Criterion documents be drafted by individual school teams or subject departments rather than being standardized at the federal level—a task that really should fall to the specialists at the Department of Education. Because of this fragmentation, you end up with a situation where a grade in one school might be based on one set of standards, while in another, the rules are similar but perhaps slightly more lenient or significantly more punishing.
Ideally, collective professional meetings—ranging from district-wide gatherings to national conferences—should establish some sort of unified stance, but in practice, that simply hasn't happened. There is very little discussion regarding formative assessment; instead, these meetings tend to obsess over summative evaluation, and even that lacks consistency, given how much educational achievements and the depth of conceptual mastery can fluctuate from one school to the next.
Furthermore, the specific types of tasks used in oral and written exams should be transparent to both parents and students. Why on earth should the format of an upcoming test be kept a secret? A few weeks ago, children in after-school programs were working through sample problems that mirrored what they would see on their actual exams, yet they weren't allowed to bring those worksheets home. To what end? Any parent would gladly sit down and practice those specific question formats with their child. What is the harm in that transparency? And what about the kids who don't attend after-school care?
Parents and students alike deserve to know the "rules of the game." It is the only way to possibly mitigate the mounting pressure and stress.
I remain firmly opposed to grading in the lower grades because it serves absolutely no purpose. Don't let anyone tell me that life is harsh and that children just need to get used to it. Why should a seven or eight-year-old have to learn that even if they grasp the material, they might still receive a failing mark, or worse, feel shamed because they haven't mastered reading or writing quite yet—skills they might perfectly well develop in just a few months?
No one, especially not first graders, should be subjected to the stress of grading, particularly when there isn't even a clear consensus across the entire USA regarding what constitutes an "A" grade.
Once a child's self-confidence and self-esteem are crushed during those early years, they may never truly recover.
I suppose I should have expected this level of discourse, though perhaps my expectations were already buried beneath the weight of too many redundant debates. Is there truly any point in engaging when the conversation feels like circling a drain? One wonders if we are actually seeking clarity or if we are simply performing for an audience that has long since stopped listening. It seems we are destined to tread these same worn paths, over and over, until the very concept of progress becomes nothing more than a tired joke. kaže: I’ve reached a point where I no longer hold any expectations regarding grades. Is there really much to be gained from tethering one's sense of worth to a letter on a transcript? Not particularly. Honestly, it’s all quite irrelevant to me. I feel no particular urge to go around bragging about it over coffee, posting about it on some internet forum, or making a spectacle of myself at the office. Why would I? I find myself wrestling with this desire to be genuinely satisfied with what she manages to accomplish on her own terms, rather than measuring her success against some arbitrary standard I’ve projected onto her—though, if I’m being completely honest with myself, I haven't the slightest clue what those standards should actually be. At the end of the day, my only real priority is that she stays healthy, happy, and genuinely content. I don't need her running through the halls in some state of manic euphoria, but I certainly wouldn't want her waking up with that hollow, sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach—the kind caused by the constant dread of looming exams, demanding teachers, or the sheer social pressure of her peers. Is it too much to ask for a childhood free from that specific brand of morning anxiety? If we want someone to actually gain a realistic sense of their own capabilities—to truly understand where they stand—we need to provide feedback that carries some actual weight. We should be telling them exactly what they’ve mastered and precisely which areas require more study, repetition, or deep dives. It shouldn't be this vague, patronizing nonsense like "you just need to try harder for an A," or worse, handing out participation trophies based on effort or "good vibes" rather than actual competence. Why settle for superficial encouragement when we could be providing something meaningful? Honestly, I can’t help but feel that the weight of this falls more squarely on the shoulders of the teachers than the parents. Of course, we notice certain things about our kids—those little everyday developmental markers that happen entirely outside the classroom. We see if they're reading a bit faster or slower, whether their handwriting is a mess, if they can handle basic mental math without using their fingers, or how they process simple logic. Those are things we observe at home, regardless of what school is doing. But when it comes to the actual curriculum—the stuff that's officially taught and expected for their grade level—I find myself thinking that, in my view, the responsibility lies with the instructor. Is it really the parent's job to ensure the academic syllabus is mastered, or is that precisely why we have educators in the first place?
It’s true that when you look at different aspects of a child's development, the sheer level of individual variation is staggering, isn't it? There are these massive gaps in how kids process the world, and frankly, that's the fundamental hurdle they face the moment they step foot into an American elementary school. And let’s be honest, what people fail to grasp is that this responsibility lies squarely with the parents, not the child. But is it really too naive to assume that a parent will suddenly develop a sense of accountability overnight if they haven't cultivated it already? It seems unlikely, doesn't it? Unless there is some direct intervention—and one has to wonder why such an intervention would even be triggered—targeting both the parent and the child simultaneously. Perhaps the school system could step in, though wouldn't that only become a reality if signs of genuine neglect became impossible for the administration to ignore? And this is the supposed "extra curriculum" parents are expected to tackle alongside their child’s actual schoolwork—assuming they even have the mental bandwidth or the sheer willpower left to attempt it. I’m sorry, but I honestly don't think that Summer, myself, or the others who have been vocal about not wanting to work with kids for school projects actually fall into that category; at least, based on what our own children are already picking up, it seems certain that when they head back to class, they’ll be hitting the ground running with exactly the kind of knowledge you're describing.
If we’re going to circle back to the core of this issue... I find myself staring at the massive mountain of curriculum expected from first graders—and honestly, most of those early elementary years—and wondering why on earth we insist on attaching grades to it. Does anyone truly see the point in quantifying such fundamental learning? Is a child truly capable of reading, or are they simply going through the motions? It seems to me that there is a profound, almost existential distinction between a kid who actually understands the weight of the words on the page and one who is merely decoding symbols without any grasp of their essence. Does the ability to recognize letters even equate to comprehension, or are we just witnessing a mechanical process? Does he actually possess the capacity to handle basic addition or subtraction? It seems like such a fundamental skill, yet one can't help but wonder if the mental gears are truly turning behind that expressionless gaze. Does this individual actually possess the basic cognitive capacity to list the days of the week, or is that ability simply beyond their grasp? Does he actually have any concept of how time passes, or is he just perpetually lost in his own little world? Does he actually have the multiplication table memorized, or is that just another thing he’s managed to overlook? Don't give me that nonsense—as if we can't simply implement a standard one-to-five rating scale if we actually wanted to. Why must everything be made more complicated than it needs to be? Perhaps he wasn't quite aware of his potential back in February, but by May, everything changed; he mastered it, truly conquered it, and that kind of realization stays with a person for a lifetime. And what exactly is he going to get for that on his report card? 😕
Of course, one should push him to refine his craft, to find that extra gear of speed and precision; isn't that the whole point of mentorship? It seems only logical to sit a child down and dissect their shortcomings, to identify exactly where they are stumbling and, more importantly, to understand the root of those failures. Is he rushing headlong into mistakes out of sheer impatience, or is he perhaps moving too slowly and losing momentum? Does he simply lack the eye to spot his own errors, or is there some deeper disconnect at play? I am firmly convinced that his work can be elevated—that these flaws can be smoothed away—provided he is given lucid, direct guidance on what needs mastering, the most efficient path to achieving that mastery, and a clear idea of who might actually be capable of helping him along the way. Is there anything more hollow than those little classroom competitions where teachers try to rank students by who earned an 'A' versus who settled for a 'B'? It feels less like fostering a love for learning and more like a calculated attempt to motivate kids through a relentless string of grades. Does anyone truly believe that a child’s worth or their drive to succeed can be distilled into a GPA? We tell them that if they just chase that next perfect mark, they’ll find fulfillment, but isn't it just a cycle of chasing shadows? It seems to me we are simply training them to be obsessed with the metric rather than the knowledge itself. When a student misses a perfect score by a mere fraction of a point, there are a thousand different reasons why that grade might slip through their fingers. Perhaps it was a momentary lapse in concentration, a misunderstood instruction, or simply an unlucky break during the exam. Yet, when everything is boiled down into one standardized, universal grading rubric, all those individual nuances—and more importantly, all that grueling effort and hard work leading up to the moment—just vanish. It’s all flattened into a single number, isn't it? And we shouldn't overlook how much this matters, especially for those little ones just starting their journey in elementary school. It strikes me, quite often, that we pour an exhausting amount of energy into these endless debates over letter grades and GPA percentages, don't we? We obsess over whether a report card is a triumph or a disaster, yet how much of that focus is actually directed toward understanding what a child truly excels at, or where they genuinely struggle? We dissect the numbers, but do we ever really stop to look at their actual strengths, or identify the specific skills they still need to master to survive in the real world? It makes one wonder about the fundamental purpose of all this academic striving—what is the ultimate point of accumulating this vast sea of knowledge if we aren't teaching them how to actually use it? Let’s be honest, there’s a massive divide here; you have plenty of teachers who provide incredibly thoughtful, constructive feedback alongside a grade, but then there’s a huge contingent that just drops a number and leaves it at that. It feels like progress is being measured strictly through raw data points and digits.
I couldn't agree more with everything you've laid out. Providing descriptive feedback is actually quite effective—especially when it accompanies a numerical score and includes verbal commentary on the student's performance. It adds much-needed context. Take, for instance, a second-grade science quiz where a child might circle a picture representing spring clothing, only to be marked wrong because the test designer decided a different icon was the "correct" seasonal marker, or perhaps they mention watering plants in the spring, which is logically sound, yet they lose points because the key required them to identify a tractor instead. If that child receives a B, does that truly mean they haven't mastered the material required for an A? Or consider an English literature assessment where a kid writes that a character went to a hardware store instead of a bakery, or fails to mention that a whole sequence was just a dream, leading to a lower grade based on rigid rubric requirements rather than actual comprehension. Does a B in that scenario really signify a failure to grasp the story? I wouldn't want anyone to get hung up on these specific scenarios, though they are entirely possible, but I would love for those advocating for strict grading in first or second grade to stop and think: how does a seven-year-old feel? They’ve learned to read, to write, and are grasping complex concepts in every subject, yet every single step they take is funneled into a grade that essentially tells them they failed, even when their answers were based on common sense, lived experience, or genuine understanding. How does it affect a child to be met with a mediocre grade five or six times in a row? Every child processes this differently. One kid might answer "yesterday" to the question "What happened before today?", another might say "Sunday," and another might say "the past." But if the textbook and the teacher's answer key only recognize "yesterday," the latter two are deemed incorrect. Is a child truly lacking intelligence just because they noted that before today was, say, their uncle's birthday?
And what happens when a parent looks at a progress report and sees nothing but a single grade accompanied by a heavy-handed note about the importance of the exam, with no other feedback to balance it out? What are they supposed to make of that, and what kind of action are they even expected to take?