Thanks for Stopping By!

WELCOME! I'm so happy you came to check out my little corner of the world! If you're not already a follower I hope you choose to follow Real Housewife of Maine as I have a lot of fun projects, recipes, and book reviews on the way! If you're already a follower, welcome back!

Wednesday, March 16, 2011

One Big Playroom

Today I learned that I saved $20,000.

Yup, that’s right. Twenty big ones. Of course, my penny pinching ways might keep my daughter might from getting into an Ivy League college, but only time will tell, I guess.

I’m referring to the woman in New York City who spent $19,000 to send her daughter to a school that promised to prepare the kidlet for the ERB, the standardized test that many elite schools use when determining whether to admit kids. Supposedly this school, which the mother claims promised great things, was—wait for it—one big playroom.

Did I mention that the kid is two?

Maybe it’s just because I live in the wilds of Maine, where anything that costs $20,000 better have a motor or indoor plumbing (or both), but this lady needs to get a grip. I’m all for quality education and child care, but getting pissed off because you spend all that money to prepare your toddler for college and all she learns is her colors and shapes seems a little bit like spending money to take your dog to obedience class, and getting mad because all he’ll do is sit and roll over.

As far as I’m concerned, two year olds should be in a big playroom. They should have blocks, crayons, dolls and fingerpaint. Being two is all about exploring the world and learning what happens when this crashes into that. And not to brag, but my daughter just turned two, and knows her numbers, shapes, colors and about half of the alphabet. She learned them through books, and playing with me and her dad—not at some fancy preschool that costs as much as a year of state college. Since she also puts bowls on her head and sticks French fries up her nose, I’ve held off on calling Mensa for now.

I realize things are different in different parts of the world, but I just cannot understand this push to make kids achieve so soon. To repeat the cliché, why can’t kids be kids? I’ve heard my approach to parenting referred to as “free-range parenting” but for one thing, it makes my kids sound like livestock, and secondly, it doesn’t need a name. If anything, it should be called “Happy Childhood” parenting. There is plenty of time to learn quadratic equations and Mandarin Chinese. Let the two year old go to the big playroom, and stop worrying so much about whether she’ll get into elementary school or high school or Harvard or Yale. I figure that growing up in a happy, secure, loving environment where she can explore and make discoveries on her own is far better than pushing her to memorize flashcards and fill in bubbles on a test.

My advice to the woman in New York, and the others like her, is to take that money you’re spending on preschool tuition, and to hire lawyers in your frivolous lawsuit, and put it in a college fund for the little Einstein. That’s probably going to do more good than paying someone else to teach her stuff she’s going to learn anyway.
Then again, my kid’s got French fries up her nose, so what do I know?

No comments:

Post a Comment