All good things take time....

I love my doctor. I first found out about her through a close friend. She and her parents travel 20 minutes, past multiple other medical clinics to see her. When you arrive at our doctor's clinic, you can be pretty sure that you will wait an extra 45 minutes or so past your appointment time in order to see her. Funnily enough, no one complains, or gets annoyed about it, because we know the truth about this doctor. She is REALLY GOOD at her job. She doesn't rush you in and out of her clinic to get through as many patients as possible. She sits, she listens, she ponders, she asks questions, she checks things on her computer, she reviews your medical history over the past 5 years, orders extra tests if necessary and then, and only then, she gives you her diagnosis. Her professional opinion is worth waiting for. It can be trusted as it is the product of time and consideration. No one minds waiting 45 minutes to see her, because you know that every patient is getting the benefit of her time and care. If someone needs more time, she'll give it to them, just as when I need extra time, she'll give it to me. As the patients accumulate in the waiting room, we just nod and smile at each other, we're happy to wait, knowing that everyone benefits when we give our doctor time.

However, do we afford the same privilege to our children? How often do we ask our children to 'hurry up', 'get moving' or 'c'mon'? We impatiently stand over our children as they wrestle with their shoelaces, not allowing them the time to tie them securely to last out the day. At school, we tell our children to hurry up and start working, without giving them the opportunity to ensure they have all their equipment. We don't give them time to mentally plan what they need to do to complete the task, let alone giving them adequate time to complete the task at their own pace. Then we reprimand the children for not giving their work enough thought!


They shovel down only part of their lunch as they don't want to miss a moment of precious play time. At the end of the school day, we wrestle our children into the car so that they are on time for their after school commitments and then we wonder why they are moving so lethargically across the gym floor!

We try so hard to fit the maximum number of educational and recreational opportunities into our kids' lives but as a result, they never ever get the chance to feel that sense of achievement that comes from doing just a few things well. Instead, they rush from one task to the next commitment, just doing enough to get by.

What are we achieving in always pushing our children?
Why don't we organise our mornings in such a way that the last 15 minutes isn't a frantic rush out the door?
Why must children always complete their work quickly?
Why can't we give our children more time to play?
Does it matter if our children don't join the basketball team AND do piano lessons?

Is it possible that we rush our children around because of our own anxieties for our children? Are we so driven by the desire for our children to do their best, be the best and achieve the best that we spend the whole day rushing them from one activity to the next?

What would happen if we just gave our children TIME?
What sort of story could my daughter write if she was given an open-ended time limit within which to prepare, plan and write her story?
What sort of maths problems could my son solve he was allowed to just work quietly at his own pace without been asked to call out answers as quickly as possible?
What games could my children invent after school if I wasn't standing over them demanding they complete their homework before they play?
What conversations could I have in the car with my kids if I wasn't distracted by the time and our potential lateness?

I have a suspicion, that if we gave our children more time, they would certainly do a smaller variety of things. But the things they did do would be more enjoyable for them and reveal their true abilities and talents - simply because they've got time to work on a few skills and demonstrate what they can really do.

Does one size fit all?

I've been spending a fair bit of time in the high school science room lately. It's not my natural habitat. My own high school years were spent hanging out in the music room and reading history text books for fun. However, here I am, sitting on a stool at the back of the room, laptop in front of me, taking notes on living organisms and learning how to balance chemical equations.

Every now and then, the science teacher will tell us to put on a lab coat ready for a 'prac' (prac: a science lesson where students get to put on safety gear and pour harmless substances into beakers and watch it change colour). Lab coats are an interesting phenomenon. They are labelled as 'one size fits all', and to be fair, most students slip on the lab coat, button it up and proceed with the prac without any further thought. But then there are the students who have not yet hit their teenage growth spurt. The lab coat hangs off them like a toddler putting on their mother's wedding dress. Some of the kids even need me to roll up the sleeves for them so they can make use of their hands during the prac. At the other extreme, there is me......I like to wear the lab coat as it helps me blend in a little more. I prefer to not draw attention to the fact that there is a middle-aged woman lingering around the science room taking notes. However, having borne two children and eaten a few too many pastries whilst reading the aforementioned history books, my frame is on the larger size. The lab coat sleeves don't quite reach my wrists and there is a slight pulling sensation across my hips. Between me and the year 7 kid, it's quite clear that the lab coats should be relabelled as 'one size fits most'.

I'm not about to write to the science department and complain that their lab coats are discriminatory to the smaller and larger than average wearer. Let's face it, the lab coats were bought in bulk to fit the average high school student at this particular school, not to cater to every possible body shape and size. The notion that a garment can be labelled 'one size fits all' is unrealistic. There will always be people for whom the garment will not fit, for a myriad of reasons. We all get that, and we don't expect the 'teenage-sized' lab coat to magically modify itself to fit the small year 7 or the robust 41 year old woman.

Schools and their educational philosophies are a little like the science lab coats. They are built to serve the needs of 'most' students in their community, but there will always be students for whom a particular school or educational philosophy will not work. You can tell there is a mismatch between the school and the student if the student is constantly stressed about having to attend school, the student is continually falling behind in their work despite the best efforts of the student, school staff and their parents or there is a mismatch between the future aspirations of the student and the aims of the school. A school that boasts academic excellence and high ATR's may not be appropriate for the student who can't wait to leave formal schooling and start a trade. A school that has an incredible array of extra-curricular activities may not suit the student that just wants to focus on their studies without other distractions.

As parents and educators, we need to look at our children and critically assess what is the best educational option for EACH INDIVIDUAL CHILD, not what is best for 'most children'. If you suspect that the educational institution your child attends is actually not working for them, it might be time to start looking around and exploring the other options. Just like the science lab coats don't fit each and every students, educational institutions can't be expected to suit each and every student either.

louise.c.griffiths@icloud.com