The Simple Form (that could save your child)

I’ve wanted to share this for some time, pre-blog.

Today, Seth Godin sent out this post “The Simple Form that could save your life.” And I knew it was time to advocate for our kids.

It is time to take charge of our lives and loves. It is time to stop waiting to be told how to provide the information necessary for those who (in part) hold our fates in their hands. Do you really think They know better than You how to get what They need from you? They do not.

Do not go empty-handed to your doctor. Do not let your children go empty-handed into their classrooms. Send them with this (also below). Someday, maybe school systems will build a database so we don’t recreate The Form every year, but for now, let your teachers know you care that they know your child from day one.

I’ve gone a step beyond preparing my children’s teachers for them with The Form, and prepared my children for their teachers.  My children go to their first day of school knowing their teachers every public preference (Google is our friend).  It helps my children relate back to those who hold their fate and understand those who cannot comprehend them as expected.

“You like OSU? Awesome, we can relate.”

“You like Winnie-the-Pooh? Well, I appreciate your attempt to relate to young children, I guess. When you want to discuss the differences between Tesla and Edison, let’s talk.”

That’s how my kids go to school.

That’s how I go to the doctor.

Our fate is in OUR hands. Linchpin it up!

STUDENT PROFILE FOR [INSERT NAME HERE][INSERT YEAR/GRADE]

PERSONALITY

[PERSONALITY TEST/HOROSCOPE/ANYTHING] – [INSERT RESULTS]

Synopsis: [3+ CHARACTERISTIC TRAITS OF YOUR CHILD]

Challenges: [BE AWARE OF BULLYING, INEPTITUDES, HARDSHIPS. BE REALISTIC, CONVERSE.]

READING

[LIST MEANINGFUL BOOKS READ OVER THE SUMMER OR WINTER BREAK, OR JUST MEANINGFUL BOOKS PERIOD.]

FAMILY/SIBLINGS

[DEFINE PARENT RELATIONSHIP]

[DEFINE SIBLING SITUATION, INCL SIBLING PLACEMENT/GENDERS (oldest, middle, youngest, genders,etc)]

ACCOMPLISHMENTS/SUCCESSES

[Citizenship awards, elected positions, outstanding markers]

OUTSIDE ACTIVITIES

[Any important extracurricular commitments]

BEST TEACHER EXPERIENCE TO DATE

[Name a successful teaching experience, or lack thereof]

MEDICAL/DIET/OTHER

[Anything effecting education as described above, glasses, meds, diet, etc.]

PARENT CONTACT: [Names, Emails, Phones]

The American Dream can no longer be to have more than our parents. 

It must be to be more.

Perhaps nothing highlights the changes we are facing, and going to continue to face as a society, more than the current Recession. People who had done just what was expected of them for a lifetime, lost all material possessions, myself and my family included.

My hope is that it leads to an American Renaissance, our own cultural revolution, our shift from Industrial Modern, to Artistic Social.

It led me here: a place to question everything! A place to encourage my children to question everything! Do my children need public education? Does it serve them? Do my children need college as it is offered today? Do my children need to learn Chinese? Spanish?  French? Do they need to learn to code? Do they need Karate? Soccer? Art?

What can I give them, other than the McMansion, and maybe instead of the McMansion, so that they can more easily determine their path to happiness, adventure, love, service, and truth? How does my life work to serve them better? And equally important as a parent striving to be mentally and physically healthy and fulfilled for myself and my children, what does my re-invented dream look like?

What can we do to adjust predominant cultural expectations and enable our children to be more?

This post is in response to something I see every day in online parenting posts, paraphrased below:

“Negotiating with children is like negotiating with terrorists.  It doesn’t work. You tell children what to do, not negotiate with them.”

That’s awesome if you’re raising gas station attendants. I think they still have those in New Jersey. But be aware, those jobs are going the way of the typewriter repair man. This is the gist of Raising Linchpins, right here.  We must prepare our children for more than that for which we were prepared, where finding the “right career/job” meant lifelong stability and security. Those jobs are going, going, gone. And being a middle manager wasn’t that great anyway.

I negotiate with my children all day, every day. I’m a lawyer, so I like to think they are challenged to think harder, bigger, and faster, and in a safe environment. And when they get out into the world (as Soleil already has), and someone challenges their world view, or their business idea, or their method of programming, or their art, they will be ready, because I did not tell them what to do.  I did not negate back talk, but I do frame it differently than my parents.  My children may “advocate their position.”  They must request the opportunity to do so in a manner they’ve learned.

It looks like this, and yes this is real, from last night:

Me: Bed! Bed! Bed!

Finn: I need to advocate my position.

Me: Does it include staying up later?

Finn: It does.

Me: Go.

Finn: I’d like to be half way through my book for my book report when I put it down tonight. I’ll feel good about that. I have ten more pages to half way and I think that will take ten minutes.

Me: Make it happen, Captain.

And this is the real world application, also real, from Kindergarten:

Teacher (frustrated): Girl Student in Kindergarten Class, pick up those Legos right now!

Finn: May I advocate for her, please?

Teacher (yes, floored): Yes?

Finn: She wasn’t the one to pour them out. It was another student. May I help her pick them up?

Teacher: Yes.

Gas station attendant? Typewriter salesman? Or Linchpin?

The crazy excitement of applying to college on Sunday, October 7^th gave way to our standard busy week.  While we thought of our far-fetched plan and continued to discuss it, Chorus, StuCo, school plays and performances occupied far more mindshare.  When we received back to back emails October 16^th and 17^th outlining a multitude of policies and procedures for incoming students, we were fairly certain the letter would follow.  Indeed it was right behind.

While the technology tools available to college students have become more readily accessible, college procedures  are no simpler than my own Freshman experience.  Determining what hour of what day Soleil would qualify to register in the hierarchal puzzle, what pre-requisites were required, which classes were available to non-majors, what supplies were necessary for the classes and what would remain available left me frustrated.  Despite our advances in technology, the software used is archaic.  There wasn’t a drop down menu in sight.  Regardless, we muddled through and determined several classes of interest, should they be available by the time open enrollment allowed registration.

The day of open enrollment I was nearly as tense as the day my bar results were released.  Soleil had her heart set on a couple of classes that almost fit reasonably into our family schedule and I was loathe to find them full.  When the hour was upon us, we logged in and in mere moments registered her for her most preferred class.  It was almost too easy. My eleven-year-old was an admitted and enrolled college student.

I love how nonchalant Soleil is in retrospect.

She was a little nervous. I was shaking like a leaf.

My internal prayer: Please let the professor be open-minded. Please let the students be understanding. Please let the syllabus be reasonable.  Please let the building be intuitive. Please let us have the right supplies for tonight. Please let us thaw before we meet anyone. The list was endless.

I caught the professor headed to the supply closet and explained ever so briefly that I was there with Soleil, and she was not accompanying me.  It wasn’t bring your daughter to school day and you missed a memo, Professor.  I asked if I could sit in the first two classes, and, perhaps still in shock, she acquiesced.

She introduced herself and asked the class to do the same including a brief history of experience drawing.  “My name is Mary and I’m a Junior.  I haven’t taken an art class before. “  “My name is Karen and I drew in middle school,” etc. Soleil was second to last. “Hi, my name is Soleil, and yeah, I’m eleven,” she said with heartbreaking poise and charm and a shrug.  “I uhm, drew in middle school, too, ‘cause I’m in middle school now.” If she’d thrown in a wink, I’d have been worried, but she was genuinely connecting with the other students.  “I’ve been drawing pretty seriously for three years, concentrating on Manga.”

And that was it.  Just like that, she had introduced herself to her college peers. No bumps, no bruises, and no bad vibes. She’s just another student in a challenging art course, determined to draw better. I finally remembered to breathe.