I think this is one of the best things I've ever written:
We have no idea what our kids might accomplish if encouraged, and it's not our job to make them "face reality." When offered the Great Gift of a glimpse into their dreams and wishes, we don't have to be their voice of reason or the rain on their parade. We just have to say, "Oh, cool! How can I help?"
It's from this February 2007 post about the movie "Accepted" and unschooling.
Living up to those words isn't always easy. I struggle with very strong impulses to make sure my kids are always properly informed. Or at least that's the lie I tell myself. What it really is, is magical thinking: on some level, I believe that if I point out every potential downside to a plan, it might somehow keep them safe or make them more successful. How silly!
What I am really doing with all those warnings is discouraging them and disrespecting them and making them sad.
I bet you can all relate. Think back for just a bit, and I'm sure you'll remember a moment when something you said made the light go out of a kid's eyes. Or maybe you were the kid. Not a very pleasant memory, is it?
Let's all resolve to put an end to moments like that, k?
Mojo Brew bio
8 months ago
7 comments:
Thank you.
I recently experienced this with my neighbour....who recently shared her dream of opening a daycare in order to stay home with her nearly 1 year old and not return to work (outside the home). She told me about it and the thoughts in my head were all rain. Luckily I didn't really express them verbally, but somehow I also doubt that my body language actually encouraged her in her dream. I could have done better to help her feel great about her dream.....it need not be a philosophy that ends at your own front door.....we can all do our part in "how can I help?" with others' dreams, too. Or can we? You have given me lots of food for thought today, Ronnie....
Such a good reminder.
P.S.We're in your town, breathing your air.:o)
I am catching those moments I *almost* say something detrimental more and more, in large part because of that post.
"It's not our job to make them 'face reality'". Thank you for those words. I heard them yesterday as I almost said to Seth, "I don't think many friends will be at the park today" and instead said, "Yeah! It'll be exciting to find out who's there!"
We did an exercise at a retreat I went to recently, "yeah, but" vs. "yes, and". We pretended to plan a party. The "yes, and" part was definitely more fun for everyone, much more expansive.
Oh---this is soooo true--ours is the magical thinking, not theirs at all.
Thank you so much for helping me to see this!
Two weeks ago my nine year old daughter auditioned for a musical for the first time. Afterward with a great anticipation, excitement and confidence she asked me several times, "What part do you think I got? I hope I got the lead!"
As a child I had dreams of performing but was disappointed over time and a few times rather cruelly. So I stepped into the breach. "You know," I said, "They probably will be giving all the parts to people they've worked with before. You may not get a part at all. You may just be in the chorus. That's the way theater groups are." What made me say this? A twisting pain in my heart at the thought that she would be hurt. A steely desire to inform and therefore protect her. Satisfaction at bursting her bubble.
She started sobbing. She tried to run me over with her bike. Even after I apologized--and boy was I ashamed--she continued to cry. She embarked on a tirade of self vituperation and loathing. "I can't sing. I'm ugly. No one will ever, ever, ever, ever put me in a part." It was sickening. I begged her forgiveness. I told her my motives. Well not the impure one. She stopped crying but it ruined the day.
Time went on. She went to the first rehearsal. She got a tiny part. She told me she didn't want to do the play because the group was not that friendly and the part was too small. She wanted to try another place for a bigger role. What did she learn about the theater? Herself? I don't know.
What did I learn about me? My husband says it was probably good that I told her so she wasn't surprised. But he doesn't know the way I felt that day. Disappointed in life. Ugly. Bitter. A joykiller. But I'm going to change.
Dear Grace,
What a wrenching story! Don't be too hard on yourself, and don't underestimate your daughter's resilience. It's a learning journey. You will be more supportive next time. She will shine with the next part or group. It will be all right. Trust. Breathe. Love.
Thanks for visiting.
Ronnie
Post a Comment