Disappointed tiger mom

From Psalm 13...

How long, o Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me? How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and every day have sorrow in my heart?

But I trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation. I will sing to the Lord, for he has been good to me.


Last night I went to Isabel's second grade open house. The teacher was...not impressive. She's new to second grade, and didn't seem to know much about teaching it. (Last year she was an EIP teacher, and previously she taught fifth grade.) She's close to retirement.

I asked if there would be a parapro. (Answer: "I don't know. I don't know anything about that.")
I asked if the homework would vary from kid to kid. (Answer: "Not really.")
Someone asked about AR tests. (Answer: "I don't know, I'll have to ask the other second grade teachers about that.")
She said it was OK to help our kids with their homework, and that we could read their AR books to them. In second grade? Really?

None of this sounded like a teacher chosen to lead a class of accelerated kids, which is what I was hoping.

Meanwhile, here comes the ugly, rearing head of jealousy: This morning Jen Moulton recounted the open house with the family program teacher, Mrs. Wiggins. In a word, stellar. Another word: exemplary.

But I trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation. I will sing to the Lord, for You have been good to me. If you are indeed there, reading this blog, I can only wonder what You are doing. Why is Isabel in this class with this teacher who's clearly on her own learning curve?

These are ugly thoughts I'm having. I'm like a tiger mom, wrapped up in my own selfish concerns for my child. I'm not mentioning the gratitude I feel for Lily's stellar kindergarten class with Mrs. Crandall. And I'm acting like a spoiled child who hasn't gotten her way for Isabel's class.

I remind myself that this is a good school, whatever teacher Isabel gets. The class size is good--just 19 kids. You are in the classroom with Isabel. I don't know everything, and You do.

Is there some grand plan? Or is that just something I've been telling myself to feel better about this uncertain life? The idea that there isn't a grand plan makes me anxious. If I think in terms of what I see around me, the tangible stuff I can touch, of course it seems there isn't one. But that may be what the psalmist is getting at--questioning God and resolving that indeed, He is there. Or at least, the psalmist chooses to believe that he is.


How long, o Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me? How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and every day have sorrow in my heart?

But I trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation. I will sing to the Lord, for he has been good to me.


I don't feel resolved. I still feel anxious. But I have sat down and read and psalm and written to You about it, and that's something.