WHAT DO YOU CHOOSE TO TREASURE?

I just wrote my grown-up, successful, well-adjusted, professional daughter an apology note.  Nothing terribly egregious by all estimates.  It was “for keeping such a big collection of grades, report cards, and ‘official’ paper work – not enough of your writing.”

In sorting through some old files, I was amazed and chagrinned at the items I chose relegate to the “keepers” category.  I’m sure it made sense at the time, but now I wonder: “What was I thinking?”  “Who was this child?”  “Was I really paying attention?”  “What were my priorities – or what must they have appeared to her?”

There’s a scale on the elementary report cards where the teacher indicates that their student is “excellent” “satisfactory” or “needs improvement.” Was there a place where the teacher gets to rate their own degree of success (or lack thereof) in reaching their student?  Would that effort rate an “excellent” “satisfactory” or “needs improvement”?

Did I ask my child how she felt about her grade?  Was it fair? Was it accurate? How would you have graded yourself?  What changes might be made?  What can you do next time? How did the interaction with your teacher might affect your performance?

As I unearth the half-page, slightly yellowed certificate entitling her to move from 2^nd to 3^rd grade [and another from 6^th to 7^th grade], I wonder now if I wondered then: how did she feel about herself, was she excited about the next challenge, did she worry about what the upcoming year would bring?

HOW DID I RESPOND TO THE REPORT CARD…?

…which reported that my child, “has to be more receptive and put forth more effort in [gym] class.”  [Really?!  This is a concern?]

…which reported “very little participation in class discussion.”  Did I ask her If answering questions was embarrassing?  How comfortable she was in class?  And what if I’d known then that she’s was a true introvert.

…which indicated after changing schools that she “needs to be less focused on her friends”   Did I ask how it felt to be in a new school…and middle school, at that!?  If the kids were friendly?  What I could do to help?

…which indicated that she “wasn’t sure of multiplication processes.”  Could I have relaxed knowing that she’d eventually master those and end up as a CFO with an MBA and a CPA?

…which suggested that I check her homework “to see if work has been completed and is ready to be returned.”  Did I chat with her about whose homework it is?  Why and if it’s important? How she planned on dealing with it?

…which indicated that “spelling scores are consistently low.”  Could I have guessed that spell check would have eliminated that as a primary concern and allow her gift for writing to blossom? What about letting her know that it’s the heart and beauty of what she’s saying that’s important rather than the arrangement of the letters on the page?

…which lauded her for receiving 3 high citizenship marks during the grading period.  Did I remember to sing her praises and revel with her, or did I remind her about getting ready for the standardized testing that was approaching?

…which allowed me to access her thought processes when one particularly astute teacher provided a form for “student self-evaluation.”  I hope I took enough time to read it carefully with her and ask her to expand on her terse, telling, and thoughtful answers.

…which commented on her poem, “The Light Goes Out.” She wrote of the nightmare she had.  Did I find there why she was [and still is] afraid of being alone in the dark?  Had I read it carefully and acknowledged the very real fear she felt, we might have face it together.  Maybe there really was a big hairy arm sticking out from beneath her bed!

..which felt an entire quarter’s worth of 4^th academic effort could be appropriately summarized by “Report on Mark Twain was very good.”  Did I notice that she was never absent and never tardy?  Did I share with her how proud I was that she’d moved into the “faster paced” math class?

Why did I save a certificate indicating that she passed drivers’ ed, a note from her principal wishing her a nice spring break, and numerous copies of the program for “The Pirates of Penzance”?  Thank heavens I thought to put away the note she wrote her sister from camp, a poem, and a book report. 

In the 3 pounds of paper, precious few items provide me with many answers to, “what was she thinking while she was growing and changing and becoming a young woman?”  Certificates, clippings, records, reports, and even photographs just don’t capture it. Those are merely memory joggers.  They don’t get to the head and heart of the matter.

Ironically [yet not surprisingly], I recently unearthed a collection of similar items which my mother had sequestered away in a big manila envelope with my name on it nearly 50 years ago.  I wonder if she would ask herself the same questions I have.  Did she know me? Understand what was important to me? Comprehended how hard it was to grow up? Appreciate my struggles and my little successes? Listen – really listen – to me?

We all do our best.  I can only hope my daughters are more astute than I.  That they breathe more.  That they read better between the lines.  That they look beyond the grades into their children’s eyes and see what’s there. That they linger longer beside their children’s bed at the end of the day, rather than rush to get in one last load of laundry or one more episode of Madmen. That they talk less frequently, listen more carefully, interact more sensitively.  And vacuum less…the floors will always be there.

I once read a suggestion attributed to Kurt Vonnegut that you should “keep your old love letters and throw away your old bank statement.”  How about expanding that to, “keep your child’s creations and throw away their grades.” Be careful what you value. Or, perhaps more importantly, what your child thinks you value.  Keep the treasures of your child’s self-expression – like the tiny “Valentines Book” written by a 2^nd grade hand on 8 post-it notes miraculously still “stuck" after 30 years.  Report cards may have their place in the annals of family history, but as your child moves through their school experience, allow these indicators to be a useful tool toward expanded communication and understanding.  Decades later you (and they) will be happy to look back through the memorabilia and see, not what they DID, but who they WERE.