Because Catherine and Vincent could both sing their ABCs by age 2, lately I have been asking Dominic to sing them. He is, after all, almost 4. I get one of two responses: Either he scowls and snarls, "I HATE dat wong!" or he gives me some uninspired muttering like "1-2-3-4-5-x-y-z, I want a cookie now."
It's hard not to compare children. It's hard not to remember that by 15 months Catherine had a pretty developed vocabulary, while at the same age Monica's only verbal proficiency is "night-night." Or that Vincent was writing his name by 3, while when I give Dommie a marker he covers pages in bright red as he makes fire-engine noises.
For the summer we have the older two doing an online math program that assesses their ability and challenges them accordingly. According to the program, Catherine is working at a mid-second-grade level. Vincent, who would have just finished kindergarten, is working at the exact same level.
Comparing children can be dangerous. It means you are setting a certain marker -- singing the ABCs, for instance, or doing double-digit subtraction -- and using that as the baseline for judging the others. When you do that, you run the risk of forgetting to look for talents unique to the child you have just put on the chopping block for comparison.
A few weeks ago we finished standardized testing for Catherine, which is a requirement for homeschoolers in North Carolina. I was dreading it, because it would be the first real reflection on my merit as a teacher. Was I teaching the kids what they needed to know? What would it mean if Catherine flubbed the math portion? Do we spend too much time outside and too little with our math books? Should I focus more on making them memorize spelling lists? After five days of testing, I sent the tests off for grading feeling like the sword of Damocles was hanging over my head in judgment.
Which is pretty much how I feel when I tell Dommie to sing his ABCs and I get, "1-2-3-4-5." I wonder what I'm doing wrong. How can I have failed in teaching him something so basic -- something the other kids mastered so early?
The test results arrived the other day. I almost didn't look at them. I read them over breakfast, listening to the kids chatter at the breakfast table about the birds outside. I took a deep breath and glanced at Spelling, which I was sure had rated an atrocious grade.
"Look at that crow," Vincent was saying. "It has something in its mouth."
Spelling: 99%.
"Dat is not a crow," Dommie told him while I double-checked the name on the test. "It is too small."
Verbal reasoning: 99%.
"And it has a yellow beak. Crows have black beaks. It is a starling."
Mathematical computation: 99%.
I looked out the window. Dommie was absolutely right: It was not a crow. It was a European starling, its black iridescent feathers shining purple in the morning sunlight.
And the standardized testing grades? Just numbers. Affirmation. We are doing just fine in our little homeschool. We will stay the course. Maybe spend more time outside, now that I can relax.
Since then, I have paid more attention to Dommie's interest in nature. I've realized that if there is a bug in the vicinity, he will find it and identify it. Shield bugs, crickets, roly-polys. He knows the difference between a millipede and a centipede. He recognizes every bird in our yard. He collects rocks -- and correctly tells me when a rock is a composite of quartz and shale. He frequently interrupts conversations to excitedly report, "Hey guys! Did you know that a spider's web is as a strong as STEEL?" or "Hey guys! Did you know a baby kangaroo is the size of my thumb?"
So what if his talent is not singing the ABCs? He can pick up a slug without squishing it and relocate it to a shady, damp spot, understanding that the sun will dry it out if it remains in the street. Yesterday on a walk he noticed a black spider scurrying across the path and yelled out, "Hey guys! It is a black widow!" I caught a glimpse of the red hourglass on the spider's back just as it dashed into the bushes. Whenever he sees a monarch butterfly he reminds us that monarchs are poisonous to birds. And when we raised caterpillars and they turned into butterflies that resembled monarchs, he said, "I bet that's to make predators think they are poisonous."
He is right.
Sometimes, as a mother, I fail to remember that my kids are unique. I take the standards set by the world -- ABCs by a certain age, ability to read chapter books, standardized testing -- and apply them to my kids. I apply them to myself.
The truth, though, is that God created each child unique and wonderful. He chose their talents; he made them special.
Yesterday we had just finished a family run at the Tobacco Trail. We happened to encounter a friend of Roger's who owns an extermination company. We mentioned Dommie's interest in bugs, and he immediately offered to have the kids come to his business and check out their collection of bugs using a special microscope. Yes, please!
For me, the encounter was confirmation -- or perhaps a gentle reminder -- that every child is uniquely created. God didn't invent standardized testing. Nor did he make the ABCs or dictate that every child should know them by age 2. God instills in all children special talents, and it is our duty as parents to figure out just what makes our kids special, and then to nurture that interest or ability. We can best do that, I think, when we stop judging them -- and ourselves -- by the standards of the world.
