No, it’s not even one of my books. And no, I’m not getting money for saying this. (I can’t quite figure out those affiliate programs with Amazon or Chapters…)
 
I started to read the book yesterday. It was sort of an impulse purchase while I was perusing the local Chapters to find myself a present (for myself) for finishing my book. It practically screamed at me from the shelf, “Pick me! Pick me!”
Army Boy will be going into grade two in September. Like any other parent, I had these wonderful visions for his school years. Oh how he’d love to write stories with me, do homework at the kitchen table, enjoy the learning environment… oh, wait, that was me you say? And my son is not me? Gee. How did that happen?
Let’s just say that his first couple of years in school have not been very much fun. (School is not supposed to be fun, you say, I disagree.) He has experienced some… friction … in the classroom. Last year he had two teachers and I won’t go into too many specifics but there was one who was simply amazing and another who was new (and didn’t have children of her own, which the other one did). The new teacher was his main teacher and she said things like “Army Boy needs to learn to be more organized”, “Army Boy needs to work on his organizational skills”, “Army Boy is disruptive during quiet times”.
When it came to a head this spring I asked her, “Please, tell me his strengths. Tell me what he is good at.”
I recieved no answer. None at all. Not even an acknowledgment.
Instead of being angry (which was a very viable option, I am a redhead afterall), I was sad. Very sad. How can a child go through several months of school with a teacher and that teacher not have one thing to say about what he’s good at.
I know what he’s good at:
- He’s empathetic
- He has high verbal skills
- He is thoughtful
- He is creative
- He thinks ten steps ahead
- He works hard at making the right choices
- He runs fast and has great hand/eye coordination
- He expresses emotion
Then there are things he does not do well, but I don’t bother to list them because there is no point. Yes, you heard me, there is no point to listing deficiencies.
As a society we want to fix things. We want standardized regulations for everything so that we can evaluate, correct flaws and errors and make things right. This works well with building codes, laws, regulations, government and banking.
This does not work well with people.
 The author, Jenifer Fox, has some strong opinions on how our school system is structured: focusing on weakness rather than strength, standardized testing, diagnosing learning disabilities vs difficulties, medication and a host of other topics. Although she’s American and writes about the American school system, we in Canada should pay attention. We are not that much different. We are still teaching in the same way we were fifty years ago.
So she developed something called The Strengths Movement. She defines it this way: ”At its core, the Strengths Movement is a social movement intended to change how we view ourselves, our children and our world. We have all been conditioned to see weaknesses and mine for deficits. This movement seeks to change that perspective and then apply the positive strengths perspective to our families and our schools.”
As I’ve read the book I’ve been moved to tears several times. Sometimes it’s because I remember the things I went through in school — the frustration with math class, the rebellion in science class, the embarassment in gym. And sometimes it’s because I see what has happened in my son’s academic experience already, mainly the focus on his weakness.
But mostly I find myself so motivated by the book, so inspired and filled with hope that I want to jump up and shout from the rooftops to every parent: READ THIS BOOK. Hold yourself, society and the education system accountable for enriching the lives of your children, for awakening their passions and lighting the flame of learning in them. Don’t spend your time cataloging the deficiencies with your child when there is so much more inside of them.
There was one quote in the book that hit me like a ton of clay bricks:
Children are born as individuals. If we fail to see that, if we see them as clay to be molded in any shape we like, the tougher ones will fight back and end up spiteful and wild, while the less strong will lose that uniqueness they were born with. ~ Melvin Konner.
How many times have I looked on my kids as clay to be formed, as blank slates to be filled? In fact, their clay is already formed. Their slate is chock full. It’s up to us to help them scrape away the vernix and find their solid bits. We cannot view them as structures with weaknesses that need to be shored up, they are not bridges and buildings. They are not blobs of clay to be formed into useful things.
Reading this book has changed me as a parent. As a person, as a boss at work, as a wife. I’m going to recondition myself. I’m going to see strength where I’ve seen weakness. I’m going to value and celebrate that, even if it is against the norm. Even if it’s unpopular. Even if no one else is doing it.
