Dan's Papers - March 21, 2008 - Err, A Parent - Raising Children, learning lessons

In this land of meritocracy - where intellect is defined by test scores, where what you do is more important than who you are, where kindergarten is the new graduate school - parents are forever guilted by the media, each other and their own consciences to keep their children far, far ahead of the curve, far, far from being, god forbid, left behind - that dreaded phrase that looms over public education.

That movement has its critics (deservedly so), but I doubt that students anywhere are among them. In grammar and high school, the greatest shame of all was being "held back." It's a stigma that lingers, as evidenced by Steve Carrel's naively dim-witted character in "The Office," who said, "Throughout my life everyone has told me no. 'No. You can't come to this meeting. No. You can't go on to second grade......'"

But as one trend promotes pushing a kid ahead no matter what, there's another one that flies in the face of "no child left behind." In New York's private school arena, some parents are intentionally holding their children behind, up to a year or more, to improve their chances of being accepted into coveted city prep schools.

That means six to seven-year-olds entering kindergarten. Seven to eight-year-olds in first grade. This could create an un-level playing field (imagine pitting a 4 1/2 year-old-boy against a 6 year-old-girl for a kindergarten spot), not to mention some bizarre situations. For example, I used to worry when my Pre-K son played soccer with "big kids" - those burly first graders. Now, I tremble at the thought of his having a playdate with classmate who's 5'6" and has a mustache.

Of course, as businesses, schools have responded if not added to the pressure to create wunderkinds, luring parents with kindergarten curricula that read like college catalogues. The kids couldn't care less. As long as there are enough (thousands) of toys, few rules and a playground, they're happy. But the parents get absolutely giddy at the prospect of their children learning the rudiments of nuclear physics.

While my partner and I value academic achievement, we've chosen not to have our son enter school at an age that will make him eligible to vote in eighth grade. But we did succumb to some of the pressures of raising an uber child: "Better Thinking Through Mozart" CDs. Eight "Baby Einstein" DVDs - I'm now convinced that the only person who got smart with that series was its creator, who had the brainstorm to sell it to Disney. But in fact now, 4 years later, if our son hears a snippet of classical music used in an Einstein DVD, he knows exactly which one it came from. He doesn't know that it's the first movement of Mozart's Eine Kleine Nachtmusik, but he does remember that a windup monkey blew bubbles while it played. Not so terrible, considering my first exposure to classical music was Bugs Bunny in drag singing a parody of an aria from Figaro.

But by far the most ridiculous mind-jolting product we got was a spinning musical mobile with various geometric shapes in black, red and white (supposedly the most stimulating colors for a baby). It seemed like a good idea when we checked things off that baby registry.

Then the baby was born. He went from 9 months of isolated serenity, darkness and warmth into the garish florescent light and blaring chaos of a birthing room at Mt. Sinai. Two days later he took a collision course drive from the Upper East Side to the West Village in midday traffic. Then home to the sound of power drills repointing the exterior of our apartment building.

And there it was. The brain-stimulating mobile. Ludicrous. As if a newborn in New York City needs additional stimulation. But we left it up, listening to its song 20 times a day while mortar was drilled and sirens of St. Vincent's ambulances screamed. I don't know if it put him on the intellectual fast track, never to be left behind. But I know it was critical to his development for one reason: it helped him fall asleep.