COMMENTARY—January 31, 2002

Unconditional Love and Schooling

When my son was born nearly a dozen years ago, I never envisioned the possibility that I would have problems with his schooling.  When his sister was born three years later, I still did not entertain any doubts about the education they would receive.  Obviously, from the tone of my writing it is evident that I have had tremendous problems with their schooling.

At this point, I will clarify that I am not worried about my children's education.  Their education has its foundation in our home, a loving and caring home that has nurtured their well-being and humanity for all of their lives.  My children learned to be human beings at home.  Yet for the sake of their formal schooling, I have joined millions of parents in choosing to send my children to school.

Why?  Well, it is now taken for granted that most children will receive their formal education outside the home in a school.  Personally speaking, I benefited from the public school educational system I received, as did most of my peers.  I spent all of my elementary, junior high school, and high school years in the New York public school system where I received a good education.  My public school education gave me the tools to advance to a private university and further on to medical school and post-medical school residency training. 

This is not to say that my education was perfect.  I can still remember very clearly how disappointed my English Teaching Assistant was after she read the first batch of essays handed in by her freshman class at an Ivy League college.  She taught us to write and read better.  Given the current state of education, I think she would be disappointed to learn that the public school system has been graduating increasing numbers of illiterate students.

In the case of my children, illiteracy was never an issue.  Both children were reading by the time they were three years old.  It was a curious coincidence that they both started reading the same book, 1-2-3 on Sesame Street, at the same age.  In general, reading is an important part of our lives since my husband and I are avid readers.  

Also, to be very matter of fact, one of the nicest places to visit routinely when the kids were small was our local super bookstore.  My children were exposed constantly to books and reading.  They enjoyed reading, and I tried not to interrupt them, taking for granted their comprehension.  There is little doubt that I believed that my children were fully prepared to handle formal schooling.

When my children entered the public school system in Los Angeles, we had mixed results.  My son was regularly ignored because he was bright and quiet.  My daughter had an outstanding experience in Kindergarten and a profoundly miserable one in first grade.  The inconsistencies in their schooling experiences were glaring.  My husband and I thought we had learned a great deal about schooling and teachers, but it appears that we can never learn enough.

As a general rule, we knew that it was important that the teachers liked our children, but we learned that even this guaranteed nothing.  For instance, when my son's math performance declined in third grade, his teacher (who liked him a great deal) told me not to worry since his score was definitely above average.  In Los Angeles, the average is so unbelievably low that anything above the 50th percentile is considered to be a grand score.  His teacher may have liked him, but we were not convinced that she knew how to teach. 

The variations in teaching ability among different teachers have been extraordinary.  I have always tried to maintain a respectful attitude toward the teachers.  After all, my children are at their mercy.  For seven hours per day, five days a week, my children are subject to the whims and inconsistencies of any given teacher.

It amazes me that teachers are responsible for educating twenty or more students who all have differing abilities.  It is an impressive feat because mothers know how difficult it is to attend to even one child at a time.  Teachers are expected to do a great deal, and many of them have difficulty doing their jobs well.

Naturally, there are truly gifted teachers who can both teach and love their students.  I have learned, however, that it is veritably impossible not to offend teachers.  As a rule, teachers and school administrators become easily offended. 

For example, just before Winter Break last month, my sixth grader came home with a test.  He had scored well on the exam, but the teacher had deducted ten points because he forgot to write his name on the test.  I understood the intention behind the deduction, but I thought that it was too punitive.

Inclined more toward writing letters than talking over the telephone, I promptly wrote a letter to the teacher.  I outlined the reasons why a ten point deduction was too harsh.  My husband kindly, but misguidedly advised me to send a copy to the principal of the private school that our son had just started to attend.  The upshot was that the teacher, her colleagues, and the school principal were all indignant and irate that I had the nerve to write them a letter because they had an "Open Door" policy in the school. 

It appears that a normal, concerned parent would have talked to the teacher over the telephone.  It was irrelevant that I did not want to call the school receptionist or leave a message on voice mail.  Moreover, I do not like to wait for call backs on the telephone.

Evidently, they were peeved because I had offended them by questioning their strange policy of punishing a student for forgetting to write his name on a test paper.  In truth, the teacher was discombobulated over the telephone, and she went on to inform me very defensively that my son was not faring as well as I had thought he was in her class.  Needless to say, I did not appreciate this unpleasant diversion. 

Later, the school principal shrugged his shoulders in disgust when I mentioned to him that I had not enjoyed speaking with the teacher over the telephone.  His response was something like, “Well, what on earth did you expect by writing a letter?!”  Such ungracious behavior appears to be the norm among school faculty.

I would like to emphasize at this point that my son does not attend a school in a crime ridden area where a principal might be forgiven for acting like a gruff police officer.  Apparently, though, it does not matter now where a school is located, for all schools are now filled with teachers and administrators who are effectively law enforcement agents. 

After the incident, my astute eleven-year-old son said, “Mom, the teachers have to follow rules, and there are a lot of rules at school.”  He appears to have a far better understanding of his school and the staff than I do.  It is unfortunate because I continue to make mistakes, and the school staff cannot help but be offended by what I do.

Less than two weeks ago, I displayed the aberrant behavior of a parent who wants her son to achieve more than he wishes.  Over a three-day weekend, my son wanted to play some video games, and I thought otherwise.  I was annoyed by his infatuation with his video games, and his father and I wanted him to write a better essay for his English homework. 

I felt that he should be working on his essay, so I tried to work on it with him.  He had little interest in improving the essay and was irritated by my interference.  He was making little progress when I was suddenly overcome with the “pushy parent” syndrome.

I decided that he needed to see how the essay should be written.  Using his initial essay, I proceeded to dictate a better essay.  I thought he was learning something.  I was tense but convinced that I was inspiring him.  After a while, though, I realized that I was not helping him at all.  I decided to leave him alone.  I also apologized for going nuts and asked him to do his best and finish the essay on his own, which he did.

Two days after he handed in his essay, I received a telephone call from the dean of his school.  The teacher had gone to the dean because she did not believe that my son had written the essay he had turned in.  She had originally intended to let him write another essay in class, but then she changed her mind. 

I do not doubt that my previous encounter with her fellow teacher and the ten point grade deduction had something to do with her decision.  She was interested in punishing a supposedly troublemaking parent and potentially troubled student.  She brought my eleven-year-old son to the Dean's office instead. 

My sixth grader was charged with handing in someone else's work and when he denied the charge, the teacher and dean got frustrated because it “took so long” to get him to tell them what had happened.  He never admitted any wrongdoing, and he should not have because he did nothing wrong.  The essay he wrote was the result of long hours he spent working on the essay. 

His teacher and the Dean did not believe him.  They called me, and I immediately took responsibility for inappropriately interfering with his work.  I was in tears, trying to explain that I had forced my son to work for hours on the essay, but they still did not believe that he handed in his own work.

I looked at the essay later on, and there were phrases in the essay that the teacher and the Dean could not believe that an eleven-year-old boy could write.  He had written them since I would not have worded phrases as he did.  Despite my protestations, they persisted in treating him like a criminal.

I could not convince them otherwise.  My husband tells me that the matter is over.  It was a piddling matter for them.  My son, in the meantime, is writing a new essay during his lunch break at school.  He has a good attitude. 

Despite all of this nonsense, my son has forgiven me even though I caused him great embarrassment and humiliation.  In fact, he never once accused me of wrongdoing.  He told me he loves me. 

I think what he is offering me is called unconditional love.  Regrettably, his teachers know nothing about unconditional love (all three of his teachers and the punitive dean were childless at the time).  Worse, I forget about conditional love.   

I have to give my son a great deal of credit.  He showed me the importance of offering children unconditional love.  He who receives unconditional love can then give it in turn to those who need it.  I will admit frankly that my recent demoralizing experiences with his school overwhelmed me, and I definitely needed unconditional love. 

I had interfered twice with my son’s schooling in a span of a little over a month.  In the meantime, my son looks beyond the school's limitations.  If I had my choice, I would pull him out of that school in a nanosecond.  My son, however, likes the kids in his school, and he has fortitude. 

My new year’s resolution, late as it is, is to detach myself from my children’s schooling to the best of my ability.  I believe I have cured myself of the “pushy parent” syndrome.  It is, however, an insidious syndrome, and I know that I may be overcome by it again in the future.  The only consolation I have is that my children know the true meaning of unconditional love.

Mizin P. Kawasaki, M.D.

Revised April 12, 2006