Working at a university means that back to school is a big deal every year regardless of whether I'm taking classes or not. My schedule at work fills up, my office becomes more hectic and the bus and the parking lots become a lot more full. I was always excited about starting a new school year or semester myself, which is one reason I've wanted to work at a university. But this year Kanga started kindergarten, so we've had an extra reason to be excited. We live close to the school she goes to and we drive by it almost everyday. Since she turned five earlier this year every time we drive by the school she would ask if it was time to go to school yet. We had to placate her by saying that school had start before she could go.
We attended Back to School night on Monday and met her teacher. It was fun because I used to work for the university she graduated from and knew her advisors. It's her first semester teaching (after graduating) and looks to be a good teacher. I was filling out some paperwork and felt like I should be in kindergarten because I had to keep crossing things out because I would put the wrong information in the wrong place. They gave us a list of learning objectives that they will be working on during the school year. I was excited that with our regular nightly reading Kanga can already do some of them, and that with a little focus there were many others she would be able to do. It made me feel like a proactive parent.
Over the last couple of months, as we've been preparing Kanga for school, I've learned a horrible truth about myself. I am ashamed to admit that I am a helicopter parent. I hover, ready to help at a moment's notice and hoping that I can teach her something as she goes through life. Working with college students I've seen my fair share of helicopter parents, both good and bad. I was at a conference and one of the keynote speakers compared some helicopter parents to "armed blackhawks, ready for war. And you're the enemy." I've complained about, mocked, joked about, and generally lamented most helicopter parents and so when the realization hit that I was hovering I was quite shaken. As they say, the first step is realizing you have a problem. I just hope that I'll be able to step back enough that she can learn how to learn, but stay close enough that she doesn't feel alone or without help.
Ah, tis a narrow line we parents walk.
We attended Back to School night on Monday and met her teacher. It was fun because I used to work for the university she graduated from and knew her advisors. It's her first semester teaching (after graduating) and looks to be a good teacher. I was filling out some paperwork and felt like I should be in kindergarten because I had to keep crossing things out because I would put the wrong information in the wrong place. They gave us a list of learning objectives that they will be working on during the school year. I was excited that with our regular nightly reading Kanga can already do some of them, and that with a little focus there were many others she would be able to do. It made me feel like a proactive parent.
Over the last couple of months, as we've been preparing Kanga for school, I've learned a horrible truth about myself. I am ashamed to admit that I am a helicopter parent. I hover, ready to help at a moment's notice and hoping that I can teach her something as she goes through life. Working with college students I've seen my fair share of helicopter parents, both good and bad. I was at a conference and one of the keynote speakers compared some helicopter parents to "armed blackhawks, ready for war. And you're the enemy." I've complained about, mocked, joked about, and generally lamented most helicopter parents and so when the realization hit that I was hovering I was quite shaken. As they say, the first step is realizing you have a problem. I just hope that I'll be able to step back enough that she can learn how to learn, but stay close enough that she doesn't feel alone or without help.
Ah, tis a narrow line we parents walk.
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