No set agenda

Growing up, my father was tough on us when it came to grades. At least, I think he was tough on all of us kids. I know he was tough on me. I hated report card time because even though I did well in school, it was not going to be a time of praise or encouragement. It was going to be a time of judgment and reprobation. Even something like a B- or A- could be turned into a “Why is this a minus?”
My mother was a little different but seemed to mostly defer to my father on the subject of report cards. None of this caused me to run to my room and cry. Indeed, I remember nothing more than accepting this with no tangible emotion, and a personal, quiet dread.
I had no great expectations as to what it should be like. But I can also say that the conversation did not motivate me. There was never a point where I said, “I’ll show him. I’ll get an A in everything.”
In hindsight, that report card experience caused me some grief. However, I don’t think my father ever gives a thought. I think he approached the grade discussion as he thought he should and that was the end of it.
It did shape how I would approach grades with my kids. My hope was to never discuss their grades with them.  By doing this, I could completely diminish the idea of the grade’s importance to the parent. I could avoid the appearance of judging the kids. This didn’t work out the way I’d hoped.
My daughter graduated with one A minus in her life. The rest were A’s. Her A minus came in 2nd year college level French in her senior year. She had the highest grade in the small class of overachievers, but the teacher would not use a curve. Nathalie’s grade was, for the first time, something other than 4.00. That was her senior year, and she first perceived it as a blot on her perfect record. I’m serious. Her grades were literally nearly perfect.
Any discussion I had with Nathalie about her grades was on this theme. Please, get a B. Pursuing perfection can only lead to disturbance. Give yourself a break in a class. Your grades are not as important as your happiness.
According to Nathalie, happiness was good grades so how does that work? I am aware of the the dangers of perfectionism. But my counsel on this fell on deaf ears.
Marc does not appear to care about his grades. And while this fit my “not caring” model, it eventually created other problems. Marc did not seem to understand that failing a class would lead to summer school. And that failing a lot would lead to failure to graduate. And honestly, it pissed me off.
Marc isn’t a troublemaker. He received grades like D – “joy to have in class.” This also did not fit my model. I think Marc would say that we give him grief about his grades. We never wanted to give him any grief. We have more or less stopped doing that now, his junior year. I do remember having more than one conversation where I said, “the curriculum isn’t designed to fail anyone. This ain’t college. The teachers are not trying to weed you out. You only get an F because you don’t give a shit, at all. That’s disrespectful to everyone: the other students in the class, anyone who prepared the class material, the teacher who prepares the lessons, and the tax payers who pay for your school. All you have to do to pass is Show UP – as in make a minimal effort to pay attention and do some work.  So start showing up or we keep having this conversation.”
We never had a better answer. And his grades have improved but seemingly disconnected from anything we have done. That’s okay. We didn’t get tutors so that he would get better grades. We got him tutors because he seems to need it. We just want to help him. It’s nothing more complicated than that.
My point is that we have two kids and two different school-related approaches. And neither one of them fit my hoped-for model. Neither one was the expected problem. I have no idea what they will walk away from school with. I have no idea what they will tell their kids. “Your grandfather was a complete dick to me when it came to report cards. “ In reality, I hardly even look at the report cards. I intentionally would rather that be a non-event because, I actually don’t care. The one consistent thing in both cases is that high grades don’t equate to happiness. In Marc’s case, his miscalculation and ours, was that F grades do lead to unhappiness. The summer school thing is not pleasant for anyone. But I did not see that coming; really? an F?
At least one aspect of school and grades is consistent with my parent’s model. And I think the reason for that point of view might be the same. At the end of my required schooling, my parents let me figure out the next stage on my own. They didn’t suggest anything when it came to college. And maybe it was an unintended consequence but the result was ownership. I owned my experience. I was free to mess it up. I was free to make it what I wanted. That was a good result. Whether I was going to be happy or not, it was on me.
Certainly, when I said I wanted to be a musician, they could have said, “yeah, that’s not a good idea.” But they never did. Lots of other people told me tales of starving musicians. Many, including my own music teachers, were less encouraging. It’s not like I said, I’m going to try to be a lawyer or a doctor. I really want to help people. My parents were genuinely happy for me that I chose to study music and made that happen. They could not really tell me how to prepare for my audition or any thing else practical.
My parents could not call on their experience to give me advice. Neither went to college. Both had siblings who did so the thought of college wasn’t a new or foreign idea. But my parents were more practical in this sphere. He’ll figure it out or he won’t. Occasionally this made me insecure because I could not lean on them for guidance. Eventually, that is what happens when you grow up. New things are challenges by nature. Really, they didn’t care how it turned out because their love for me was not based on my success or failure. That’s not how they value people. To some extent, that’s how I approach it. That’s the only principle that I have to lean on. It’s not like I understand either of my kid’s approach to school.