what if
September 22, 2015 § 3 Comments
Today, after school, my son was struggling with anxiety over a classroom exercise. Worried about potential failure he began designing the image of his demise with thoughtful statements of inability. Articulately he outlined the likelihood of error.
Then, his little sister interrupted his thoughts with a simpler possibility: What if tomorrow is your lucky day and nothing goes wrong?
It’s a funny thing the way our minds invite the worst before we court luck. Tonight I’m thinking of the places where I anticipate failure and where I might exercise greater expectation of success.
to my daughter
September 25, 2012 § Leave a comment
Yesterday my phone buzzed with an early morning message from your teacher, eager to celebrate a classroom success. In an area where you often struggle, you had demonstrated mastery. Your accomplishment cast ripples of joy across the day connecting those of us who witness your determined efforts and discouraging challenges.
I want to capture this moment in a snapshot, saving this well-earned success for future reference; to unfold these lessons and write them on the walls of our home. We succeed not because of what we know, but by the way we approach learning. Our strengths are not measured by what comes easily, but how we face that which challenges us. Our accomplishments are a reflection of our choices, not chance.
You, my sweet girl, worked hard for this moment. Hold tightly to this knowledge, the sense of satisfaction and pride that accompany long evenings exercising new concepts. Be comfortable with the discomfort of working through confusion to find clarity. In life these lessons in resilience will bring you strength in the face of adversity. You will do well, not because life is easy, but because you move through your days consciously embracing opportunities to learn.
marginally successful
October 2, 2011 § Leave a comment
My children reside in the academic margins of test scores, their success defined just outside the traditional framework. Both of my children have been gifted challenges that require a unique approach to traditional classroom expectations.
This year has been a transition year as my son moved from elementary to middle school. Early on there were signs he was struggling with otherwise simple tasks. Specifically, note taking and classroom activities. Up until last year there was an aide in his classrooms available to support my son when his attention wandered. This year, he is independently accountable for the little things that collectively make a big difference.
In the company of my son’s middle school teachers, a special education coordinator asked: What are your goals for your son? My husband and I had come to the meeting with a unique goal in mind. To set aside grades and test scores and chart our son’s ability to self-monitor as he learns to rely on himself for redirection. It was a goal that may have made other teachers uncomfortable, but his teachers respected this honest request. In a system where students and teachers are rated by scores, lesson plans structured to prepare students for tests and test scores used to measure success, our son’s teachers set aside those expectations and honored our wish.
Simultaneously, my daughter is struggling in elementary school. Reading and math skills loom in front of her like giant trees blocking the road to success. Slowly, we are all pushing against the weight of the block, moving forward together. Her teacher sees the seeds of greatness hidden behind test scores and nurtures my daughter’s strengths while challenging her to grow.
The unique needs that have created poor test scores have gifted my children space in the margins to blossom. Rather than focus on what they know, we are guiding them through the experiences of their mistakes. Perceived failure is often just a lesson in strength; success a personal achievement.
scribblechic 