Thursday, January 12, 2012

Letting Them Work It Out

Teddy was in the same car for the first time with another dog today, a really big dog.  I'm trying to be a fan of letting them work out their own status, but I did wish a couple of times that I'd brought a squirt bottle.  They were rolling around, teeth bared.  It looked pretty scary, but neither of them were making much noise.  Teddy just wouldn't let that poor guy alone and he got tired of it.  A squirt from a water bottle would have told Teddy that he was going just a little too far and deserved it when the big guy held him down by his neck with one paw. 

Later this afternoon, Nick told us that he had a paper that was due tomorrow, a paper that was a big part of his grade for the term.  Oh man.  I really hate that last minute push to get a big project done.  If I was really doing my job as a mom, I would have let him struggle with it, let him fail even.  That would have been like letting him work out his own status, the way the dogs were doing in the car.  I didn't do it.  I guess I'm still a brown-nosing teacher's pet wanna-be.  I always was and I always will be.  Nick is not.  He does care what his teacher thinks of him, but he's no brown-noser. 

Instead of letting him fail, I helped him.  I printed out relevant material.  I read to him and let him take notes on what was interesting.  I even typed half-way throug, when he started flagging.  He's coming down with a cold and sounds pretty pathetic.  I'm sure that part of that sound was for my benefit.  Still, he's finished now, or rather, we are done now, and he's still sniffling and saying he doesn't feel well, while playing a few minutes of video games before going to bed. 

To my credit, this is the first time I've really helped him with homework all year.  His teacher made a point of telling us parents that the fifth-grade kids needed to be more independent, even if they didn't do any homework at all.  I have tried to honor that.  I really have, but the stricken look on Nick's face when he realized that he had a whole week's worth of work to do in just one night struck a chord. 

When I was seventeen, I had a single paper that I wrote for one class.  There were no tests, no quizzes, no homework.  Just one paper.  I'd done the research, the notes, the draft.  The teacher had set us up with interim deadlines to teach us to work to a schedule.  He clearly delineated the stages and gave us grades for those parts, but the final paper was worth 51% of the grade. And guess what?  I procrastinated. 

My brother, home from college for spring break, stepped in and typed my entire paper for me that night, all thirty-four pages.  We progressed page by page, editing as we went.  He typed.  I talked and read from my draft.  When I froze, thinking of all the work I still had to finish, he'd ask me a question to redirect my attention.  It was 3:00 am when we finished typing the last page.  In the end, I got an A+ on that paper and for the class.  The only reason I got it was because my brother helped me.  He kept me from failing.

I don't know if that makes it okay, the fact that someone helped me back when I was struggling.  Most of the time I did good work, earning the grades that I achieved.  I guess I'll have to remember that with Nick, that he'll be better off if he does most of the work himself.  He'll be in a small place with the big dog one day and he'll have to stand on his own then, just not today.

Thank you for listening, jb

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