The weight of expectation

Josh has been off sick from school for the last two days. Nothing serious - he woke up on Wednesday morning with a bad throat and a runny nose. I took him to the doctor because Isabel was diagnosed with strep throat last week and is on antibiotics, and they (of course) share water bottles, wrestle with each other, and generally pass on any germs they may have got. So I assumed it was strep for Josh too. It turned not that he just has a virus and really it hasn't been too bad. So this afternoon, given that there was quite a bit of shrieking, playing around and giggling going on from both kids, I said that he could probably go back to school tomorrow as he seemed better.

Immediately, the sore throat was back. The runny nose was back. He felt warm. He said his belly button is all red and itchy, and it looks as though it has a little skin infection. He said his knee hurts where he grazed it the other day. His finger hurts where he cut himself. His eye hurts from where he walked into a chair on Sunday..... and the list went on.

Now, Josh is not someone who hates school. He loves school - always has done. He thrives at the school we chose for him, and he has a little group of close friends who were disappointed when I went into class on Wednesday morning to tell the teacher he was off sick. "Oh no, is Josh not coming in?" "Oh, where's Josh?" "Come back soon, Josh!" He is a well-liked, popular member of the class and of the school as a whole, and always gets good reports. He loves his sports - swimming, athletics and cross country - and his chess club, and is one of the fastest swimmers in his year group.

So, what's wrong? We couldn't work it out. He was anxious, upset and seemed to have got more poorly than he'd been all day. Bob put him back to bed this evening after he'd come down for the umpteenth time complaining of a sore throat, itchy and red belly button, sore eye, etc. We gave him some Calpol and anti-histamine and eventually he went to sleep, after I said he could probably do with another day off.

Then I remembered that tomorrow is Friday - spelling test day. THEN, I remembered the big fight we'd had on Monday (and the slightly less stressful one, but still an 'episode' on Tuesday) about his spellings homework. I remembered that he said he only got 4 out of 10 in his 6x tables test last Friday and this week it's 7x tables....and "I'm totally rubbish at 7x tables, Mummy, I just can't do it, it's my worst." The spellings were the big problem - he's never been good at settling down to writing his spelling sentences and we usually end up with tears before he finally gets on with it. The crazy thing is that he CAN do it - he always ends up producing a good piece of work, reasonably neat and showing some imagination in his sentences. The spellings aren't always right, but....'absconder'? 'bougainvillea'? For heaven's sake.

Anyway, he had got so upset on Monday evening that I suggested he think about asking to be moved back down to Level 3. Immediately he protested - NO WAY. The words are too easy. But, these are too hard...so why not move back down, until he gets his confidence back? No chance. To him, that's failure. That's admitting defeat. He thinks he can't do that, that his teacher will not be impressed with him, that we (Mummy and Daddy) won't be proud of him....he wants to be the best. OK, there's nothing wrong in that. It's good to want to do well. But where has this unrealistic expectation come from? Where has this pressure come from?

Yes, I got angry with him on Monday night but it was because he was incredibly rude to me - not because I was angry that he didn't want to do his homework. In fact, at one point I told him I wanted nothing more to do with it - yes, it was his choice and if he didn't want to do it he didn't need to, as far as I was concerned - just don't talk to me in that tone of voice, young man! It wasn't until later that it came out that he was finding it too hard, and that was why he was rude, angry and aggressive. (Bad Mummy - I should have seen that up front - but my tiredness and the stroppy behaviour from both of them got the better of me!) I comforted him, cuddled him and eventually he accepted my help (he has a problem accepting help) and we got it done, in the end.

The more I thought about it, the angrier I became, this evening. I have not been happy with the school's homework policy for some time, and I'm not the only Mum to feel that way. They are supposed to read aloud every night for 15 minutes (we don't enforce that these days - I let the kids read their own choice of book when they go to bed). On top of that, they have 20 spelling words to learn every week (10 for Isabel), and times tables to revise. Then, there is usually a piece of research homework to be done at the weekend, some ICT on most Tuesdays, a 'My iMaths' (online maths website) task for Wednesday night and one or two other bits, depending on what they are studying at the moment. Too much, if you ask me.

I sat with him just now in his room, while he slept, listening to him grinding his teeth and mumbling in his sleep, worrying about him.... and I realised that all these minor physical symptoms that he's been showing this week could be an expression of how anxious he has become about all this expectation. He is a bright, intelligent kid with a very good memory and huge musical talent, as well as being good at various sports. We have encouraged all of that, and we want him to work hard and do well, and understand the value of making the effort. Now, I've always said to him that it doesn't matter if he doesn't get it right first time - he can learn from his mistakes. That's what mistakes are for! But he doesn't 'get' that. He sets himself impossibly high standards and he seems to think that those standards are what is expected of him at school. For example, at one point on Monday, doing his spellings, he burst into tears because he'd spelled a word wrongly. I said "It doesn't matter, mate - just rub it out and rewrite it..." but he said "It DOES matter, I CAN'T get it wrong, I'm not supposed to, I have to get everything all right ALL the time!" Sobbing and crying because he'd spelled 'accuser' with one c, or something like that. 'Accuser'? He's eight. EIGHT! He should be coming home from school and kicking a ball about for a couple of hours before sinking a plate of pasta and a glass of juice, enjoying a cupcake or a biscuit, watching a bit of TV, having a bath with lots of bubbles and going to bed with his cuddly toys. Not crying over whether he can spell 'accuser', 'bougainvillea', absconder', etc. For heaven's sake, even I rarely use those words and I'm a self-confessed word nerd. Bob can't even spell 'cheap' without every time asking me if it's an 'ea' or an 'ee' word.

Josh is EIGHT. EIGHT. He's a child. I will not have this weight of expectation on my eight-year-old. I'm going to call the school tomorrow and go and see the head of Juniors, and I'm going to tell her that it's not acceptable. Yes, by all means set high standards. I'm a firm believer in not 'dumbing down', in making an effort, in working hard. There's a 'meme' doing the rounds at the moment that says 'Good things come to those who work their asses off and never give up'. I'm all for that, don't get me wrong. BUT - there's a fine line between teaching a child to work hard, set himself high standards and (when he makes mistakes, which he will) pick himself up and try again - and crushing his spirit under the weight of unrealistic expectations. Homework should not be a part of an eight-year-old's life. Nor that of a nine-, ten- or eleven-year-old. Even a twelve-year-old. When they start having to do exams, then homework might need to feature in their lives. But at this age, in year three, if they can't teach him all he needs to know at school then there's something not right with the school.

I will also say to the head of Juniors that I and my husband do not expect to go home from work and have to do a minimum of X hours of work per night on top of a full day. We go home (well, I work from home, but when I finish) and expect to relax, have a chat, spend some quality time with the kids, have a meal together, a glass of wine.....and forget about work. Why should the kids be denied that privilege? Why should they come home and have to have homework hanging over them that they have to do before bed? Why can't they come home, do what THEY want to do to chill out and relax, then get to bed and have a good night's sleep so that they are refreshed and ready to work hard at school the next day? That's how it should be. But, what we get is the kids coming home, unpacking their bags, seeing tonight's homework and either rebelling angrily, crying over it or resigning themselves to a chore that (in the case of spellings, anyway) seems like a mountain to climb AND absolutely pointless. If I do let them kick back and play for a couple of hours before dinner, the homework looms over all of us, all afternoon like black thunder clouds gathering and the end of the day is invariably stressed, fraught and tearful. Then, they want (need) some more down-time before bed, and end up going to bed late, and in Josh's case not sleeping well because he's anxious about the next day. It shouldn't be like that and I'm not having it any more.

I know I'm not the only Mum to feel this way and I hope I'm not the only Mum to be speaking up about it. I will also call some friends tomorrow and ask for their support in approaching the school. I will go and see the head of the Junior school and I will be friendly, polite but firm. And I will let Josh do just as much homework as I feel he can cope with, and will make sure that he doesn't get penalised for it in class. I don't intend to let him be lazy and buck the system - but there's a difference between doing what you can and knowing when to stop, and bucking the system and doing as little as you can get away with. It's time to put my foot down and stand up for him, and that's what I'm going to do. I will not have my son's spirit crushed by the weight of expectation at age eight. It's not going to happen. Watch this space.