Oh, me of little faith

I casually mentioned the colouring craziness that has plagued our household to one of Evan's teachers right before we left for Barcelona and while she was obviously quite aware of his... er... attention to detail, she was surprised to hear quite how frustrated and upset he gets at home if he strays even slightly outside the lines. I didn't really expect much to come of the conversation, but felt better for having at least broached the topic. Perhaps his teachers would at least downplay the praise they generally heap on his colouring efforts, I thought hopefully after we'd had the conversation.

I didn't give those wonderful women nearly enough credit. Within days, they had Evan convinced that while it's nice to colour in the lines, it's equally fantastic to find creative ways to fill the spaces on colouring sheets. A shirt could be red, they pointed out, but it also could be plaid or rainbow or covered with little tiny hearts. Suddenly, instead of meticulously accurate renditions of lifelike objects, they've got him filling his sheets with striped balloons and polkadotted hats and all sorts of other whimsical creations.

Couldn't you just kiss these teachers for their brilliance? The new plan is working for everyone. Evan's teachers are happy because work which used to take him hours to complete is now getting finished on the same timeline as his classmates' projects. I am happy because Evan is getting a chance to put a creative spin on monotonous classwork and he's taking a step away from the perfectionist tendencies which have driven him so crazy as of late. And Evan is happy because he's got a brand new way to enjoy his beloved colouring sheets.

The differences between English and American school systems be damned. The other kind of difference -- the kind that skillful teachers can make in the life of a child -- is the only one which truly counts.