snowyanna:215-to-fit:rustboro-city:svviggle:kastortheunlockable:stunningpicture:My 7 yea
snowyanna: 215-to-fit: rustboro-city: svviggle: kastortheunlockable: stunningpicture: My 7 year old son was shot down by his 1st grade teacher The american public education system in a nutshell tho My third grade teacher actually had a conversation with my mom that I was reading to well and told her to stop having me read at home My first grade teacher said that it was problematic that I was reading ahead of the rest of the kids in my grade and asked my parents to stop letting me read Harry Potter. My fourth grade teacher thought it was wrong for my dad to be teaching me complex math because it fascinated me. My elementary school music teacher hated the way my piano teacher taught me, and how I was more advanced than many of her students, and so told me, in front of my peers and my mother, that I was not good enough to participate in the state solo festival. She would not give me the form. We had to procure it from the district instead. She also hated how I excelled at reading and playing music for the recorder, and so she refused to give me my “belts” (colored beads to signify our level) and humiliated me in front of the class repeatedly. My eighth grade algebra teacher used to fail me on take home tests because I didn’t solve problems exactly the way she showed us in class; I used methods that we had learned for other types of problems that also applied to these. She took points off my tests because I didn’t bring a calculator even though I got 100% without it, because I was able to do it by hand. I had to call my father, who is an engineer, down to the school to shout her down and give me back my A in the class. My 10th grade Spanish teacher yelled at me in front of the class numerous times because she didn’t like the way I took notes; she thought that since I didn’t write every word off the slide, I wasn’t getting it all down. I had to explain to her that people who have taken advanced courses, like AP or IB classes, know that in a fast-paced learning environment you need to take quick shorthand notes that contain the necessary information rather than wasting time writing every word. She almost gave me detention. My 11th grade English teacher gave me a poor mark on my first short essay because she believed that I was looking up unnecessarily complex words in a thesaurus to try and get better marks. The phrases in question: “laced with expletives” and “bombarded”. She wouldn’t hear any defense from me. My 11th grade history teacher failed me on an essay about the 1950s because I misread the prompt. Except the prompt wasn’t words; it was a political cartoon. One of the figures was clearly president Eisenhower, but the other I couldn’t place. My teacher would not tell us who it was. I labelled him as the governor of Little Rock Arkansas during the integration period, and wrote an essay about that subject. My teacher said that no, it was Joseph McCarthy, and that there was a small picture of the man in our textbook and therefore I should have recognized him instantly. Half the class, apparently, did not. The American school system is not here to educate us or to encourage us to learn; it’s here to keep us in line and silent. It’s here to keep us from deviating and being our own people and forming our own ideas. Don’t let it win. “The American school system is not here to educate us or to encourage us to learn; it’s here to keep us in line and silent. It’s here to keep us from deviating and being our own people and forming our own ideas. Don’t let it win.“ Fun story time. I loved to read. So much so, I was reading chapter books in kindergarden. I broke the record for reading points in elementary school. They actually had to start making up prizes for me. No one in the history of the school had ever read so many books in a year. Basically, my class liked me because I won those suckers pizza parties in my spare time. In second grade, I had a teacher named Ms. Mobley who believed all children should be average. She flat out told my father that all children should make C’s, and should never strive for more than that. Not only was she insane, she also would routinely spell things wrong for us to copy for our spelling tests. Later, when we spelled those words wrong on the test, she would mark us off. Yes, our own teacher was sabotaging us. I should have been tested for gifted classes, but I was not. Why? Ms. Mobley didn’t believe in "gifted” children. This teacher had tenure and could not be fired. Never forget. “The American school system is not here to educate us or to encourage us to learn; it’s here to keep us in line and silent. It’s here to keep us from deviating and being our own people and forming our own ideas. Don’t let it win." On the one hand, it’s good to know I‘m not alone in the whole “school tried to break me” thing, but on the other I hate seeing that it’s still a wide-spread problem.Second grade was where my first trouble with school began.In kindergarten and first grade I was a teacher’s pet; top marks in everything. I usually did homework my teachers would steal from grades ahead of mine because I was too advanced for my grade but my parents didn’t like the idea of my skipping a grade.Then second grade came around.I had started to learn cursive for the first time and I loved it. It was pretty and loopy and made me feel so much more grown up.Then I started getting sent home with notes much like the son from the original post, here- I was told that if I didn’t stop signing my name in cursive I would start getting automatic Fs on all my papers. I was told my homework would get torn up. I was told I’d fail second grade.All these years later, I still can’t write anything in cursive without shaking. I can barely read it without feeling that same send of dread I felt when she called me to the front of the class to use me as an example to the other students that cursive was not to be permitted in her class until she taught it it to us.That same teacher also discovered I was ahead of my class as far as actual lessons went, but instead of giving me homework that was roughly equatable to that of my classmates but with a higher difficulty, she would fill my backpack every day with extra work.It was a holiday break and no one got homework?I got it anyway.Other girls were having slumber parties?I had twelve pages of math problems to get done that I had been assured would reflect weather or not I’d pass her class. I didn’t have time.I was six.She made me start to hate school for the first time in my life.The final straw was when, a month after making me cry in front of my friends for handwriting my name, she decided to finally teach us cursive and announced that then it was okay.I broke down crying again and had to be sent home early because I couldn’t handle it and my mom promptly pulled me out of school altogether.I switched to a different school a year later for third grade, then to yet another school for fifth because my epilepsy flared up.My music teachers before the fifth grade made me sit out any class presentations because I developed a deeper singing voice before the other girls- they hated that I didn’t naturally harmonize with them and gave up trying to teach me. I still don’t know how to harmonize properly.My fifth grade math teacher hated how I did math and tried to tutor me in the ‘correct’ way of solving problems.Sometimes I wonder whether the issue is the school system itself or the teachers that act like they have no right to be teaching. -- source link
#personal#long post