scribblechic

Last night was pretty exceptional; anger and tears that transformed homework into a moment of tender self-awareness. You’re struggling a bit with two classroom projects. On the surface it would appear you’re a little behind, maybe disregarding your work, or ignoring responsibilities.

In some ways it’s the easier way to interpret unfinished material. To hide behind other people’s’ assumptions and carry the burden of their ignorance with silence or casual disinterest. It’s easier to assume something is wrong with you, to see your differences as failings rather than gifts when they clutter your effort with failure; less hurtful to pretend you don’t care when you do.

Asking for help is tricky when you aren’t sure why you can’t simply perform tasks the children around you appear to complete without struggle.

How do you explain to a teacher that you understood the directions when your inference is different from their intent? What happens when you listen closely, but can’t remember later what you understood previously? Who would expect the smiling child that is eager to help another or quick with a smile, someone who appears confident, may actually be masking insecurities over perceived inadequacies?

Imperfect work doesn’t speak to the years of growth behind confusing mistakes any more than unfinished work illuminates effort. Similarly, the determined set of your chin doesn’t inform the emotions that threaten tears of embarrassment. Compounding these challenges is the unfamiliarity of your surroundings; gone are the friends who might have previously prompted you gently or rallied beside you with gentle encouragements.

Here’s the good news, at any given moment we can learn to ask for help; change the language of our needs.

Last night you started to identify your struggles in a way that was exceptionally intuitive to your needs, but you strained against how to seek help. Ferociously independent, you worried that asking for assistance might make you appear to beg preferential treatment, you didn’t want others to call you “teacher’s pet” or to look at you with sympathy.

Sometimes strength requires we walk against the grain of our fears. Asking for help isn’t a weakness any more than struggling alone isn’t a demonstration of strength. So we came up with a plan would acknowledge need and facilitate independence; numbered steps in a specific list that might guide you over the hurdles of your projects.

Last night you helped me compose a letter to your teachers so that we could honor your sense of independence and need for privacy while seeking a specific partnership for success. You let your teacher’s see the struggle behind the gaps in your work that they might understand your effort. More importantly you outlined a willingness to accept help.

I’m not saying the work will be easier or the struggle less frustrating. Recognizing need and asking for help are imperfect, ongoing practices. It’s a beginning.

Love, Mom

Tagged: Daughter, Education, Musings