Here is an article about Sears’ new fall back-to-school campaign for “tweens and teens” featuring the sometimes-clothed star of High School Musical, Vanessa Hudgens. Is it me or is this really infuriating? It advises kids to “not just go back – arrive!” and buy a lot of clothes to “really get noticed” at school and “change up their styles and make a fashion statement.”
Um… so… is this what people mean when they go on about all the “socialization” opportunities my kid is missing out on by being homeschooled? Should I be encouraging him to worry more about clothes, appearance and peer approval, and less about tomorrow’s new episode of Mythbusters and the moldy bread he’s currently gleefully cultivating as a self-assigned science experiment? (Ewwww.) My kid hardly cares if what he puts on is clean, it has taken him 5 years to comprehend the concept of “it is important to somewhat, vaguely, at least inoffensively match,” much less if what he has on is fashionable. Is this maladaptive, or does that describe the kids who experience anxiety about “not arriving in style?”
All the homeschooled children I have met are totally different from each other, but the one thing I have noticed is a lack of reliance on peer approval, and a greater reliance on their own judgment, tastes and preferences. Even the little fashionista girls at our park date – there are three of them who are totally adorable clothes hounds, two 10-year-olds and a 12-year-old – quite clearly dress for themselves and just like sharing the clothes that make THEM happy with their friends. But then, the park playdate IS an appropriate venue for socializing- school is not. It’s not supposed to be, anyway. How many times did we all hear “We are not here to socialize, young lady!” in school? (Well… okay, maybe that was just me. I WAS EXTROVERTED, ALL RIGHT?? *g* ) Yet supposedly a lot of people think my kid will grow up warped and deprived if he misses out on that. And prom. Prom is apparently very important, from what I can gather…
Maybe it’s easier for me to see the strangeness of the normatization of appearance and peer approval because it is in such sharp contrast to my own experiences. I was in the theater and music crowd in high school, so I think I was rather fortunate in that my peer group was a) mostly working-class and b) not that concerned with appearances because it was an atmosphere where creativity and individualism were relatively valued. Frankly, the fashion-conscious kids stuck out. The people who knew me in high school who are reading this (*waves*) can testify that I wore some INTERESTING Molly-Ringwald-circa-Pretty-in-Pink outfits and I really didn’t care and neither did anyone else, that I could tell.
I did go to the prom. I still have my prom dress somewhere, I think. I STILL FIT INTO IT. (Huzzah.) It was pretty. I looked cute. I’m still friends with my prom date, who also looked cute and who may be reading this too (*waves again*). We had seafood for dinner and I had an allergic reaction to the scallops and we had to go home early. Though he has kindly assured me for 15 years otherwise, I’m pretty sure I was the worst prom date in the history of life itself, but y’know, it was a really nice party. Or… crucial formative experience and rite of passage. I guess it depends on who you ask.
I honestly can’t wrap my head around the emphasis on how important school social experiences are. I’m possibly rare among homeschooling parents in that I do not think they’re necessarily uniformly bad. On the contrary – I had mostly good ones, some bad ones, nothing traumatic. I am still friends with many of my friends from elementary school, junior high and high school and they’re all adults I admire and respect now. I had a very positive and encouraging peer group. So I don’t think everything that happens in schools is terrible, but what I do think is that those social experiences are neither inherently ideal nor irreplaceable. For me, it’s pretty easy to dismiss strangers’ concerns about my child’s “socialization,” because it’s just a matter of thinking outside the box and accepting that there’s more than one way to do things.
Besides, aren’t they supposed to be there to, you know, learn? And not “arrive” and judge each other by how much cool stuff they bought over the summer? I am not at all being patronizing when I say that Sears campaign made me genuinely sad. It’s supposed to be an academic institution first and foremost. Why isn’t getting excited about learning ever emphasized in back-to-school marketing campaigns?
Oh, right, right – no one can make a profit off that.
(Side note: Shorty was evaluated by a public school psychologist last fall in order to see if he qualified for speech therapy. He had been a public school psychologist for 30 years and was, hmm, homeschool-neutral before meeting Shorty, but he was also a very kind man. An older, affable Cuban gentleman. One of those people whose heart for children you could just see on their faces. He had met many homeschooled children, and many children with autism, but never a homeschooled autistic child until he met Shorty. After the evaluation, he declared, with great astonishment, that Shorty was “the most well-socialized” child with autism he had ever met, and that he related “extraordinarily well” to others and showed a “very high self-esteem,” which he noted, with some chagrin, was rare in public-schooled autistic kids. He added that after meeting us, he was going to give more thought to how homeschooling could benefit children on the autism spectrum, and asked me what “techniques” I had used to get him to that point. That? Was a really good day. Bragbragbrag.
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