February 24, 2006

Parental Choice and Twins

The New York Times has an article today about the practice of separating twins and other multiples into separate classrooms. The long-standing - and widespread - practice is done in order to foster the independence of children. Parents who witness this trauma their kids go through, and some researchers, are starting to question the effectiveness of the policy, and have results from studies that show potentially negative long-term effects on emotional health from separating twins to early.

I'm not a twin, but this article brought up one of my most traumatic things that happened to me in elementary school (yes, I remember). An offhand comment in the article:

"In our culture we appreciate uniqueness," Dr. Segal said, "and people wrongly equate twin closeness with a lack of individuality." The insistence on separating twins, she added, flies in the face of what psychologists know about friendship.

"There's research that suggests that when friends are in the same class, they're more exploratory, they cling to the teacher less," she said. "So if we're worried about individuality, why do we let best friends go to school together?"

Actually, we don't.

There were three of us who were so close we were like sisters: Beverly, Lisa and me. We did everything together from the time we were tiny. Our families went to the same church. We were in Sunday school together. We were in the Pee-Wee choir, and sang "Jesus Loves Me" in choir robes that barely covered our little butts, they were so short. We - and our grandparents and even some cousins - lived within about a six block radius. Lisa's mom worked for my dad. Beverly's dad taught my older siblings geometry at the high school. We went to kindergarden together.

And then, when it was time to assign us to first grade classes, the school separated us. And they did it on purpose. They thought we were too close. We were too good of friends. And my mom wasn't happy. Lisa and I were upset. I can still remember the feeling that they "took" Beverly away from us. Took her, and put her with some other kids. They took our Beverly and gave her to some other kids.

We were miserable. Her class was across the hall, but we didn't get to mingle. In our new class there was a boy who tormented me, who "liked" me, but was bad. He wasn't bad bad, he was unruly. He turned out to be a nice, handsome young man by high school, but in first grade he was one of those little hellions. So what did the teacher do? As an incentive to get him to behave, because he adored me, the teacher reassigned him to sit with me. We had those dual desks, that were actually like mini tables with a drawer for each student. So he sat next to me. And plagued me. Lisa sat across the room. I can remember looking at her over there, watching her suck her finger. She wasn't a thumbsucker, but a pinkysucker. At least she had her pinky. I had Rodolfo. And the kids across the hall had Beverly.

In hindsight, I think they probably did it for some of the same reasons they cite in the article. That one twin is more verbal, or speaks for the others. Beverly was the most outgoing, Lisa the most shy. They probably thought it would be a chance for Lisa, and maybe me, but I don't remember being either shy or outgoing, to have a chance to shine alone, and not be in the shadow of our outgoing companion. Did it work? I don't know. Lisa stilled sucked her finger all the way through first grade. And I had Rodolfo to deal with, and I remember trying to get as far away from him as I could at our little desk, and trying to be as still as possible, to create a zone of calm, a cone of well, you get the idea. And yes, I could write a whole feminist blog post about why was it my job as a good little girl to socialize a rowdy little boy, or why getting him to calm down - again, I remember the teacher talking about how I was to help him be good by being his example - was seen to be more important than letting me do my work in peace.

We stayed friends, Lisa, Beverly and I. Things happened though. The next year I got moved to another school that had a gifted program. Beverly's mom died of cancer a couple years after that. We were in Girl Scouts together. Our families still went to church together. We were still in choir, and we would pair up on Sundays as the acolytes, then sit in the back pews and roll our eyes.

By the time we were reunited in high school, where Beverly's dad taught us geometry, we were on different tracks. I was already a full fledged dork. Beverly was doing student council. Lisa was doing newspaper and yearbook. We were still friends, but we grew apart, as kids do. I can't say whether or not the first grade separation was part of it. I remember feeling like it was, and wondering why.

Posted by binky at February 24, 2006 11:39 AM | TrackBack | Posted to Random Thoughts


Comments

I'm glad they're finally looking at this. Your experience seems to fly in the face of research on self actualized people who tend to be characterized by a few close friends, and if you buy Maslow's hierarchy of needs at all, obviously friendship would meet social needs that would lead someone to be closer to self actualized. I can't help wonder if another issue in your situation might have been "classroom management," a teacher who wanted to divide and conquer, but that's of course pure speculation related to her manipulation of Rodolfo.

Posted by: Morris at February 24, 2006 01:26 PM | PERMALINK

The Rodolfo situation was well after the decision to split the girls up, and we were not disciplinary problems (choirgirls!) so I'm not sure if there is a connection there. My mom still talks about it sometimes, in the vein of, those people really had their heads up their asses thinking that having close friends was a problem. My sense is that they thought we wouldn't make other friends as long as we had each other, rather than what seems to be (more acceptable now) and approach that thinks of friendship as agglutinative and not a zero sum game. The split was, I think, part of my parents' decision to send me off to the gifted school. I think they thought the teachers (with some exceptions) and administrators at my school were idiots, and that my education was not safe in their hands if they spent so much time worrying about if little girls were too close to their friends and not enough on the teaching part.

In hindsight one of the other things I remember was teachers praying over lunch before we could eat, and making us bow our little heads. No, they didn't physically force us, but they'd say "now, bow your heads" and we'd pray, then get to eat our lunch. Ah, public school in the early 1970s.

Posted by: binky at February 24, 2006 01:47 PM | PERMALINK

Heh. I SO remember what public school was like then (and the little prayers... meh.). But what I especially remember is resentment. What's the first thing they did to an undersocialized kid who made a close friend in the third grade? Encourage this, let the kid learn by example from his peer?

No.

Move him away from there, so he can hopefully repeat this with OTHER kids. Never mind that the very clear message they sent is "don't make friends, or we'll make it difficult for you."

I snicker.

Posted by: StealthBadger at February 24, 2006 02:36 PM | PERMALINK

Exactly. Which says more about the authoritarianism of schools than their understanding of behavior and cognition.

Posted by: binky at February 24, 2006 02:42 PM | PERMALINK

dude, where did you people go to public school. binky, you've only got a couple of years on me if i'm not mistaken, and my public school experience involved nothing even vaguely resembling prayer. this was in the new york metro area, jersey side, so i don't doubt it was different elsewhere, but still . . . .

Posted by: moon at February 24, 2006 03:07 PM | PERMALINK

Palm Beach County.

I was born in 1968.

Posted by: binky at February 24, 2006 03:30 PM | PERMALINK
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