Leon Scott Baxter's Blog, page 7

It's Not "Graduating" Sixth Grade...It's Just "Passing"

My eleven-year old daughter, Grace, will be leaving elementary school next week (notice I didn't call it "graduating"?), and my wife, Mary, tells me we need to get her a graduation gift. I tell her, "But she's not graduating. She's just moving on to junior high."

Mary proceeds to tell me that other little girls are getting limo rides and cell phones. My wife suggests getting Grace a $300-plus bike. I tell her to ask our older daughter, Riley, for her input. She's sixteen.

Mary asks Riley what we should get Grace for "graduation." She retorts, "Why? You didn't get me anything."

True, we didn't. Why? Because although it was a cool reason to celebrate, it wasn't an accomplishment. To move on from elementary school (notice I didn't say "graduate") all you have to do is live long enough. I have taught elementary school for eighteen years, and retaining a student is very rare. Kids get passed on because of their size, their birth date, if they get special services, if they don't wear their glasses, if they are in line to be tested. 

Mary says to Riley, "We learned from our mistake with you. We should get your sister a gift."

Grace does work hard, though. She's a great student and she deserves to move on, but again, it's not an accomplishment, because pretty much everyone moves on. Would you buy your kid an outfit because her wisdom teeth came in? Of course not. It just happens because she's lived long enough. It's inevitable...just like moving from sixth grade to seventh.

So, a card? Yes. Maybe some flowers? Okay. But a limo, cell phone or a bike? I don't think so.

I know there are many who disagree with me. I want to hear from you. What do you think parents should do for passing sixth grade?

Haves vs. Have-Nots Comic

I stumbled across this comic a few days back and felt compelled to blog about it, but wasn't exactly sure where to go with it. It's about being born into a family of privilege versus being born into a family that is disadvantaged. It speaks to the fact that the small gaps between these two classes early on in a child's life, grow to enormous chasms as they grow into adulthood.

I found myself torn when reading this comic (by the way, if you have not yet taken a look at this comic, you may want to do it before reading on so you know what I'm talking about... go ahead; I'll wait), because in my book, Secrets of Safety-Net Parenting I write about parents using no excuses if they want to raise happy, successful children. Yet, this comic shows just how difficult this is to implement in real life.

As an educator, most of my students come from disadvantaged families. In this comic I see my students. I see where the divide starts and how it expands, and I wonder how we fix it. 

But this is where I am torn; I came from disadvantaged family. My parents were young and poor. My mom raised me nearly by herself and was 18 when she had me. We lived off of Food Stamps and dumpster diving. Yet, my mother instilled in me all she could to keep me up with the "haves". She taught me how to act like them, to fit in, to talk with them. And, when I interviewed families for my book, I found those who were unwilling to use lack of education, not knowing the language, physical disabilities, nor finances as a crutch as to why their children wouldn't succeed.

I need to know your thoughts. This comic is very powerful, but how does it fit in with Safety-Net parenting. Please comment below. Thanks.

image courtesy of ©MorgueFile.com/taliesin

Proud of Your Cake

I was at a monthly gathering of friends this weekend. A few families get together. We all eat. The adults play cards and the kids play board games or watch movies. The adults got into a discussion about parenting and living through our children. We all agreed that this is not healthy: the Tiger Moms, the dads who yell at their kids during a baseball game, the stage moms.

I stated that we adults need to live our lives, and that it's unhealthy for us to hang our aspirations on our children's accomplishments. Then, I added that it's natural, though, to some extent, to feel that their successes are our own. We can't help it. That's where our pride comes from. We feel as though we had a hand in their success in some way: "That's my kid! I helped make this happen."

But, another parent at the party kind of looked at me cross-eyed. "No, I think that living vicariously through our children really isn't healthy."

"But, don't you feel pride when your child meets this goal, or accomplishes that mark?"

She stopped and thought for awhile and declared that the positive feeling she has when her child succeeds is pure happiness for her child. That's it.

What do you think? When your child succeeds are you merely happy for them, or do you feel pride because you raised this child? And, is it healthy to feel this way?

My feeling is that if I bake a cake and everyone tells me it is delicious, I feel proud of that cake, because I am the one who helped make it what it is. I'm not just happy for the cake for tasting good. I think that's healthy (the feeling, not the cake). But, if I lived the rest of my life replaying the compliments I got for this cake, that would not be so healthy. 

We raise our kids the best we can. When they succeed, we feel we did something right. We are proud that they have worked hard and followed our example/advice. Yet, we also need to have our own aspirations separate from our children, so that we can have a healthy balance.

Your thoughts?



image courtesy of ©MorgueFile.com/Moonlightway

Every Day Is Incredible for Some Parent

Today was an incredible day. A couple close to me and my wife because parents for the second time in two years. It was announced that my youngest daughter was the grand prize winner of a national competition, winning a $10,000 scholarship. 

But it was also the day, that one of the students at the school I teach at, lost his baby sister to cancer. I went from the high of my friends' baby and my child's win, to the sadness of loss...all in one day, the same day.

It got me thinking that this is a day my friends and I will remember fondly for the rest of our lives, while the parents of the baby who passed away will remember with sorrow. We don't experience incredible happiness or terrible pain everyday with regard to our children, but someone does. On any given day there are parents who are elated because of their children, while others are upset or frustrated or heart-broken... every single day is a day to be remembered for some parents somewhere on the planet.

The incredible events of today made me realize that as parents we don't know what kind of day tomorrow ill be, so we need to appreciate what we have today. It doesn't have to be our baby's birth or the winning of a scholarship. Any success, no matter how small (tying a shoe for the first time, coming home with a B+ paper, making an paper airplane that flies) needs to be appreciated, because any day anything can happen, and we need to be sure we lived and celebrated all of our children's victories when they showed themselves.


image courtesy of ©MorgueFile.com/earl53

Our "P-Word" Tradition

We have a weird tradition in our family. Every couple weeks or so, I'll come out of my bedroom with a handful of quarters. No one is allowed to count them. My wife and I, along with our two daughters all try to guess how many quarters there are. I'll count them after the guesses, and we announce the winner.

Funny thing is, though, the winner doesn't necessarily get the quarters. The quarters go to a specific daughter. In our bedroom, my wife and I have two small canisters where we drop the quarters, one for each girl. When one is full, we do the whole "How-many-quarters-am-I-holding?-thing". Then, those quarters get dumped into a fish bowl in that girl's room. These are no ordinary coins. They are "Proud Quarters."

The tradition started when our oldest daughter (16) was in utero. I would sing to my wife's stomach, and if the baby responded, I'd tell her I was proud of her, and at some point my wife and I decided to drop a quarter in the fish bowl every time we used the "P-Word". 

Sixteen years and two fishbowls later, we've been dropping quarters for good grades, handling a tough situation maturely, getting on the cheer team, helping a friend, anytime we feel proud of our daughters. 

These fishbowls are getting awfully full. People ask, what we plan to do with the money. We never really knew when we started. We had no idea how long it would take to fill the bowls, but we always knew that once they were full, we'd know exactly what to do with the change. More importantly, though, is that our daughters have a visual reminder of the hundreds (maybe thousands) of times we have felt proud of them.

This is important, because there are plenty of times we are disappointed, when they do something selfish, when they purposely push their sister's button, when they make a promise about doing their chores that they don't keep. There's no bowl for disappointments, though. The girls get the lecture or consequence, and then it's over. But, with the proud moments, they can see how often we have noticed the good things about them.

They never have asked when they could spend the money or how much it will be when full. I have a feeling that when the day comes, there will be a little sadness knowing that their visual display of our pride in them will be gone, but we are all so happy that we have created this tradition.

Chin-Ups and Parenting

I was an athletic kid, loved all sports. I played little league baseball, softball, flag football, was on the track team as well as the basketball team. I loved P.E. days in grade school! That is, until it was The Presidential Physical Fitness time of the year.

See, back in my day, apparently, The President of the United States wanted to know how fit I was, so he asked my P.E. teacher to test me (and my peers) in different feats of athleticism: the shuttle run, sit-ups, standing broad jump, and... the dreaded pull-ups. Rumor had it, that any kid that could pass the test every year in grade school would get a free trip to Washington, D.C. as a thank from the Commander in Chief.

Yes, I was an athletic kid, fast, good hand-eye coordination, quick reflexes, but I had no upper body strength. None! So, although I was able to make President Reagan proud of me in every other challenge, I could barely do a pull-up. It was the bane of my P.E. existence. I couldn't do pull-ups.

When I got to college, I started working out with weights, and I put on some muscle. I would do squats, presses and curls, but I wouldn't do pull-ups. Why? Because I had lost all confidence in my pull-ups ability in grade school (thank you, Mr. President).

Over the years, I became more physically fit, and by the time I was 40 I decided to take the Men's Health Fitness Challenge to see if I was optimally fit... five areas: the mile run, squats, vertical jump, push-ups, and...yes, you guessed it, pull-ups.

I was terrified! But, why? I was a fit middle-aged man, but that ten-year old inside of me still had no confidence when it came to pull-ups. I remember picking my daughter up from her after school program one day and saw a pull-up bar with no one around. So, I tried it out. I was able to do required the nine reps with no problem. 

Funny thing is, a couple years later I did the P90X program which incorporates pull-ups, and every day that I had a pull-up day, I became anxious, wondering if I would be able to get my chin over the bar. The thing was, I could do it without problem, and this middle-aged man knew that, but the next week, the grade-schooler in me would question my abilities once again.

So, what's this got to do with parenting? As parents, we need to instill belief in our kids early on. Because, no matter what they grow up to become, there will always be that kid inside of them that still believes they are who they used to be. We've all heard about the attractive woman who still sees herself as an ugly duckling, the CEO who still questions his math abilities, and the woman who chooses a man who abuses her because that's what she "deserves" based on her childhood abuse.

We have the power to mold that little kid today who will speak to our adult child in the future. So, let's build them up. Let's point out their strengths. Let's help identify their passions. And, let's get them on the pull-up bar early...those things are hard.


image courtesy of ©MorgueFile.com/verbaska

A Heavy Load (Foster Parenting)

I spoke with a group of foster parents last night for about 45 minutes. I felt privileged to have been asked to be their speaker, but I was ill-prepared to address their true issues.

I was not raised in the foster care system, so I called upon a friend of mine who had been in foster care to get her perspective, to get the kid's angle, and to ask what it is the parents need to know from that point of view.

I came in using what I had learned as well as what I bring to the table from my research and book, my years as a teacher and my experience as a parent. I left wondering if I sounded like a pie-in-the-sky guy, because I really have no idea what it's really like to foster a child who is dealing with trauma. I was talking about where to go on dates, when they can't find a babysitter who will watch their kid. I was talking about finding their passions, when they struggle with children who won't stick with any one thing the moment they haven't succeeded.

As a teacher there's always that child who struggles with behavior and anger, and you do your best to work with the parent to change the behavior. But, you rarely get to hear the whole story from the parent's perspective. Last night, after my talk, I got to hear it. And, these parents are absolute angels! They choose to raise some of the most difficult kids to parent, because someone needs to.

After hearing all that these parents go through, I wonder how they do it. I honestly don't know if I could. I believe the relationship between Mom and Dad has to be so deeply rooted, because they have to be there to hold one another up. I respect these parents more than I ever would had I not been there to hear their stories. 

And, although I don't generally have foster children in my class, I know that I do get kids who have experienced trauma at some point. So, what's the difference if they are foster children or still living with their biological parents? If they've been through trauma, their parents are probably experiencing similar experiences as the parents I met last night: defiant behavior, getting school detentions, physical tantrums, terrorizing baby-sitters, just to name a few.

I went to this meeting last night to offer insight to these parents, but I believe I was the one who learned. And, I think I can apply it to my own world as a teacher, to better understand trauma and the incredible weight that these parents of kids with trauma must carry.


image courtesy of ©iStockphoto.com/GlobalStock

I Need To Let Her Ride Even After A Crash

If you read my book, Secrets of Safety-Net Parenting , you might remember the story of my youngest and her struggles riding a bike. In a nutshell, she was bad at riding and good at crashing, even as all of her peers became proficient cyclists. In the story I recount a day she was confident on the bike, riding faster than usual around our cul de sac and crashes. Instead of running up and scooping her into my arms, I had her walk the bike to me, so she could deal with her "failure" and know that she doesn't need someone to always be her savior.

So, now Grace is in sixth grade. She's been riding her bike to school without incident for two years. All of those crashes are now in the past...or so I thought.

Yesterday I came home and asked, "What happened to your face?" She started crying and told me she had crashed on her bike just yards from our front door, and hit her face on the sidewalk. Her lip was swollen as was her chin which had an abrasion on it. She had cut the inside of her mouth as well, and skinned her knee.

I asked what happened, and through the tears she told me she didn't know. I rubbed her back and gave her a kiss on top of her head and told I was sorry she crashed, but was so happy she wasn't really injured.

The truth is, that crash brought back all those fears I had for her and her bicycle for many years. How do you not know what happened? How do you not protect your face? She could have knocked out teeth. Just writing these words I'm getting chills. Along with a good helmet for her head, I may have to Google chin helmets for Grace.

So, I am scared knowing that she still has not quite mastered the art of the two-wheeler. I don't want to come home one day to find a toothless eleven-year old in my living room watching Liv and Maddie. Although I'm tempted to find her an alternative way to get back home...I can't. I can't stop her from taking these small risks. I can't protect her from all danger, because when I do, I crete even more danger for her future.

Grace needs to fall, needs to get up, needs to jump back on the bike, and learn from the mistakes. She may not be the most graceful, regardless of her name, but she's a bright girl. She'll learn from this, and I need to let her ride and show her none of the fear for her that I feel inside.

I write this the morning after her crash. Grace is still sleeping in bed. She has yet to ride since her chin met the sidewalk, but she will. Today, Grace will ride again, and I won't stop her.


image courtesy of ©MorgueFile.com/FidlerJan

Not Too Early For Our Kids To Pursue Their Dreams

I just watched a recorded episode of Ellen from earlier this week (yes, I watch Ellen, and I am proud of it) and I saw these three girls from Mexico who have created a band called The Warning. These girls are really good! And, they are adorable, so cute and very likable.

They posted a heavy metal song on YouTube. The video went viral, seven million hits. Next thing you know, TV shows across the world are asking for them to perform for them. They get on Ellen. I'm not sure how many zillions saw them there. Ellen gives each of them ten grand for their music education, and their lives are forever changed.

When I was a kid, if I were in a Mexican, heavy metal, girl band (which, by the way, none would let me join) we'd be excited to play at a school talent show, maybe at a local festival if we were lucky, and then dream about "one day, when we grow up" making it big.

Those days are no more, or at least they don't have to be. This is what is incredible about the here and now for young people. They can be successful today. They don't have to wait until they grow up, get hired, find a manager, and do adult things to make it. Our kids can make it now.

With YouTube, social media, websites, and the like, if a kid is passionate about something (a sport, a skill, a business, a charity) and they are good at what they do, they can create a niche for themselves now, maybe even just a little one. But, if they find that space for them now and start to build success, their audience, their customers, their platform grows, and by the time they are adults, they can have already "made it."

Why is this important? Because there's no longer that guarantee that a college degree will take care of our children. With so many of our young people graduating college with BA's, Masters and even Ph. Ds and moving back home because they can't land a job, our children can forge forward today with their passions, what they love and start to create a space for themselves so that they don't have to rely on someone else to hire them to give them that opportunity.

I'm not suggesting pushing kids to no longer be kids. Instead, I'm suggesting you feed their dreams. Don't tell them they have to wait until they are grown. if they have a passion and want to run with it, be there right alongside of them, and show them the way to make that dream a reality. And, who knows, maybe they'll end up on Ellen singing Ozzy and Metallica.

You can learn more about The Warning here.

image courtesy of MorgueFile alvimann

Risks Used to Be Riskier

I love that my parents let me take risks when I was a kid. See, from the time I was in second grade, I wanted to be a stunt man. That was my passion. I was driven to be a stunt man. I knew I could take a fall and get back up.

Now, I did things to prepare myself for this career I would never have, that my parents never knew about. I set up jumps in the alley behind our house and jumped over cans and whatever other dangerous stuff I could find. I purposely fell out of the tree in our front yard...on my back, so I could get used to getting the wind knocked out of me. I know what you're thinking; I must have gotten an early head injury because of all the risks I took at such an early age.

But, my parents supported me in some of my risks, as well. We lived on a hill when I was in fourth grade. The house was on stilts, so the windows on one side of the house were in essence two stories off the ground. They would let me jump from this story window to the ground below. 

My dad had a broken-down Mustang in the front yard, and he'd let me ride my bike at it full speed, slam on the brakes, turn into it, roll onto the hood and windshield. I had to practice getting hit by a car if I were to survive as a Hollywood stunt man.

Today, if a child were allowed to do take these types of risks, Child Protective Services with be all over the parents, calling them neglectful and endangering thier children. 

So glad I grew up in the 70's and 80's when parents werew allowed to let their kids take risks. Sure, I could have broken a leg or got stitches, but it would have been a learning experience. I'm glad I never had to be rushed to the ER for the risks I took, but I'm so pleased I got the chance to take them.

If my daughters wanted to jump out of a two-story window or crash their bike into a broken-down car, I would stop them. I know! Shouldn't I know better? Yes, I should, but the world has changed and parenting expectations have morphed as well. 

But, I do have to remember to remind myself to let my girls take other risks, so long as they will remain relatively safe. Without the risks, I wouldn't be the person I am today. And, I want my girls to have that opportunity as well...to some degree.

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