I just got back from an end-of-the-year elementary school award ceremony. My son (who is way too old to be this upset about it, but that’s another story) sat in tears as the “perfect attendance” trophies were handed out. He missed one day this year. He threw up in the cafeteria and was sent home. Naturally, we kept him home the next day. He seemed fine, but we didn’t want to risk him getting sick again at school, or infecting the other kids. Apparently that kind of logic is not to be rewarded.
It makes me wonder what we are rewarding.
One of my son’s friends got the coveted award, even though he left school early several times this year (for as much as half a day each time).
Another girl got the award, even though I’ve heard her mother talking about “pumping her full of Motrin” so no one would notice the fever she woke up with.
There is no attendance problem at my son’s school. They have a 98% attendance rate. Of the 2% of absences, the vast majority is for illness.
So, what message are we giving our kids?
I know it. And they do, too.
“You are a dollar sign.”
If you are at school at 11 a.m., you are counted as present for the day. The school gets the funding for you that day.
If your parents pick you up at 11:01 a.m., you still got us the cash, so you get the prize.
But if you were sick, and your parents kept you home, you didn’t get counted in that day’s money. So, sorry, kid. You’re out of luck. No prize for you.
My son said he should get the “I don’t share my germs with other people” award. I think he’s right. Even though that doesn’t matter to the school. He didn’t get the “I made my school the most amount of money” award. And that’s what they care about. Tough lesson when you’re only nine: money matters most.
I want my child’s school to be one that cares about things deeper than money. I want them to care about the children’s well-being. I want them to care about health. I want them to care about integrity. Most of the time I think they do. But then I go to an awards assembly and have to reexamine what I thought I knew. I guess it’s a tough lesson for me, too.
