Middle School

Back to school today.  Back to the grind.  Back to carpool, busy schedules, and homework.  Back to reality.

It is such a strange day.  Aidan started middle school today.  It just doesn't seem possible. 

I am a believer that you can't prepare your children for life by trying to make everything perfect for them.  Certainly my generation of parents spends a lot of time doing just that and I am guilty of it for sure.  But middle school is such a rite of passage.  Just the words "middle school" give you a feeling of awkward transition.  Maybe because that's what it was for me.  It is a time of enormous growth, change, and self-discovery.  All kinds of social changes and fluctuating hormones rule and confuse the young mind.

And we can't warn them.  We can't protect them from what is about to come.  We know that they will inevitably have crushing moments of heartache and self-doubt.  We know that they will encounter ugliness and feel left out.  They may not make the team.  They may not fit in with the crowd.  We send them off to school today, knowing that they will have that moment of panic when they are looking for their friends at lunch and hoping that the table is not full when they get there.

We have all been there.  We know this is about to happen to our kids.  But we have to let them live through these awkward situations because they teach our kids to be resilient and strong.  The hardest part for us is that we have to watch the train wreck.  And those are our kids in that train wreck.

"Making the decision to have a child is momentous.  It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body".  So, so true.  My heart is at that middle school today.  I can't wait for it to come home and tell me all about it.

The Highly Competitive Child

Coach after coach has assured me that this is a great quality; that he just needs to "harness" and "channel" his intensity and my son's uber-competitiveness "will serve him well in life".  Hmmm.  All I know is that it has been a long, embarrassing, bumpy ride.

At 4, he was fielding the baseball and making outs all over the field.  It didn't matter what his position was, or where the ball was hit.  He would get the ball and run it in to make the out.   He assumed the defensive responsibility for the entire team.  Granted, he was the only 4 year-old NOT kicking dirt or watching butterflies (like his mother did many years ago).  He was completely focused and engaged, ready to make every play.  In T-ball.

At 6, he would yell at his soccer teammates whom he deemed "out of position" or "not paying attention".  He would come off the field, frustrated with the many moving parts that he could not control.  He was flabbergasted by the kids who didn't care as much as he did.  He would say to me, "Why is he even playing?"  Countless lectures went like this:

"Aidan, you're six.  Not everyone takes it as seriously as you do.  Everyone is there to learn and have fun.  Just go out and have fun".  He looked at me like I had nine eyes.

In the 4th grade, his baseball team played in the championship game.  And lost.  They won a pretty sweet 2nd place trophy, which thrilled all of the boys except Aidan.  There is a picture of his team, each boy holding his 2nd place trophy and sporting a smile.  Then there's my kid.  Looking stone-faced, with tears streaming down.  Like someone just ran over his dog.

When his team was winning, all was right in the world.  The action on the field matched the plan in his mind.  But when things got rough, oh boy!  Drama.

I realize it is not the worst problem in the world.  It really is quite small.  But it was embarrassing and discouraging when he would throw a bat or lash out at me from the sidelines.  This was not the otherwise intelligent, well-behaved, kid that I was working so hard to raise.  There were so many times that I wanted to hide under the bleachers. 

In his young mind, he just figured that if he played by the rules and worked hard, then things should turn out in his favor.  Not so, young Aidan.  Sometimes the other team is just better.  Sometimes refs miss calls.  Sometimes it's just not your day.  You pick yourself up and you keep moving forward.  This is why you play, son.  Not to win.  To learn about life.

Oh, the things we tried.  When he was really little, we would bribe him with NASCAR  replicas if he could keep his emotions in check when things didn't go well.  Didn't work.  We tried to give him consequences for poor sportsmanship.  That didn't work either.  I wanted to fix him, nip it in the bud.  That just wasn't going to happen.  It took a lot of time, experience, and talking. 

Today, he is still extremely competitive.  He's just wired that way.  But as he grows and lives and plays, he has a better perspective and attitude.  He still has his moments and he really, really likes to win.  But I see more and more glimmers of maturity and composure on the field.

Much like he can't control all of the moving parts on the field, I don't have control over his development as a person.  No matter how excruciatingly mortifying our children's missteps can be, sometimes it's just up to them to grow into it and figure it out.  That's been a tough one for me.

He is fun to watch.  His intensity has been a thorn in my side, but it is part of his passion as a player and a person.  I hope he can use that passion for good in his life.  And I think he is learning that the bumps in the road are part of the deal.  Life is beautiful, complicated, messy, and miraculous.  Just like my boy.

A Mother's Voice

When we are very small, our mothers' voices are our life guides:  "Eat your veggies; they are good for you", or "Don't play in the street or you could get hit by a car",or "Be kind".  Their words teach us, warn us, fill us up, and calm us down.

As we grow into the semi-independent teen years, our mothers are not always right there with us to remind us to floss, use our manners, or wear a seat belt. But we still hear their voices in moments of peer pressure and times of self-doubt.  We know what they would say in that moment because they have already said it a thousand times.  By this time in our lives, our mothers' voices have been ingrained in us; they are the roots of a burgeoning conscience.

In adulthood, we hopefully emerge as responsible people with a fully developed moral compass.  Maybe we still hear our mothers' voices from time to time. Maybe we hear our own inner voices.  Maybe we hear God.  Whatever it is, it was our mothers who planted the seeds of intuition and good judgment all those years ago.

These thoughts dominate my mind as I think about a sweet family in our small community that lost a wife and mother just yesterday.  Three young boys and their devoted father are now faced with a life without the heart of their family.  She was amazing, striking a truly admirable balance between work and family.  She gave those boys her time, love and humor every day.  She knew she was raising young men and she actively worked to build strong, kind individuals.

Now that she is gone, I pray that the boys will listen closely and continue to hear her strong and certain voice.  They will hear her and feel her.  She will continue to guide, console, and love them because the groundwork she laid is so stellar.

I cannot imagine the pain of a young child losing his mother.  I still get to see my mom, talk to her, and hear her voice every day.  I benefit from her wisdom and friendship in my adult life.  I know I will reach a point when I must try to remember the sound of her voice and when I can only speak to her in my heart.  I dread that day.

This loss reminds me that, every day, I breathe my love, my faith, my morals, and my attitudes into my children.  My voice builds their character and lights their way.  I am so humbled to be charged with such an awesome responsibility.  I must never, ever forget that my words today will be whispers on their hearts tomorrow.  I need to make them count.

The Dance Mom Handbook

Frankly, I have always been much more comfortable as a sports mom. But when Madeline gave up soccer and tried out for the dance company, I rode a huge learning curve.

You see all kinds at these dance competitions.  You see mothers pulling in giant chests of drawers on wheels, complete with pink leopard print and a prominently bedazzled "Britney".  You see the chaos of the dressing rooms with frantic dancers making quick changes.  You see mothers and daughters sniping at each other under the stress of time constraints and nerves.  But I have learned some things as a "dance mom" from my own mistakes, as well as watching some train wrecks that  have become cautionary tales.  So I find it incumbent on me to devise a brief handbook of sorts for fellow and future dance moms.

Rule #1.  Organize. Participating in dance competitions can be an organizational nightmare.  With quick changes involving different tights, costumes, shoes, hair, and multiple accessories, it behooves the dance mom to embrace the Ziploc bag and group everything according to performance.

Rule #2.  Invest in a steamer.  Travel and tulle do not mix.  Learned that one this last weekend.

Rule #3.  There is no quitting on your kid.  Yes, our daughters get snippy with us under the pressure.  They get nervous and flustered.  We are their safe, easy targets.  We teach them to manage the situation by sticking with them, showing them our own grace under pressure, and seeing them through the chaos.  Their young brains cannot keep all of the proverbial balls in the air.  They need us.  We nip their griping in the bud and we stay and help.  The only "lesson" you teach your kid by leaving her to flounder is that she is not worth the trouble.  You signed her up for this.  Step up.

Rule #4.  Dance moms are not doormats.  With rule #3 in mind, we dance moms are not "the help" and our daughters are not "the divas".  I may be doing her hair and handing her earrings, but she is not the boss of me!  Her dad and I make this all happen for her.  And that is all I have to say for her to step back into herself.

Rule #5.  They are more than dancers.  Our girls work hard at this.  They train, practice, and rehearse all year.  They are dancers, but that is not all they are.  They are daughters, sisters, friends, students, athletes, writers, etc.  We must remind ourselves and our daughters that they have talents, skills, and value beyond the dance world.  It is not who they are;  it is what they love to do.  There is a tremendous difference.

Rule #6.  Be nice.  Help other moms and/or their children who are new or who appear distressed.  Honestly, we are grown-ups.  Let's show our kids how NOT to be mean girls.

Rule #7.  Follow Rules 1-6.  This experience can be unbelievably fun for the dance mom and her daughter if they observe these rules.  Set your daughter up for success, be an example of kindness, and let her have some fun.   Make these memories good ones.  She'll be grown before you know it.

To My Daughter on her 10th Birthday

My Dear Madeline,

Happy day to you, my sweet girl.  I can't believe how quickly ten years have passed.  Time flies when you are having fun!

Ten years ago today, I held you in my arms for the first time.  I was in awe of you.  I just knew you were going to be a boy.  And there you were - a little bundle of pink sweetness.  All of a sudden, I had a thousand hopes for my precious girl.

And already, in your first ten years, you have surpassed my wildest expectations.  You are wicked smart and fantastically funny.  I adore your energy and enthusiasm for life.  You always find the funny and you share it.  I love that.

You have such drive.  I marvel at your work ethic and determination at such a young age.  You set goals and you almost always exceed them.  This will serve you well, as long as you allow yourself to slip up every now and then.  Take it from your long-suffering perfectionist mother.  You will never be perfect, my love.  But you are perfectly human; capable of achieving greatness, but bound to mess up along the way.  Give yourself some slack, girl.

You are a writer, a doer, a dancer, a risk-taker, a dreamer, a performer, and a lover of life.  You do it all with great gladness.  It's like you know a secret that the rest of us have yet to learn.

Keep soaking up life.  Keep your heart and mind open to new things.  You will learn volumes about yourself.  Keep sharing your gifts.  God gave them to you to share.  Keep being bold, but also keep your grateful heart.  It is what holds your feet on the ground and your eyes on God.

You are halfway to twenty!  Between now and then, I am sure we will lock horns more than once.  You may disagree with me at times.  Never doubt my love and devotion to you.

Ten years ago today, I looked at your face for the first time and I wondered what your life would hold for you.  Today I am excited to see what YOU have in store for life; the trails you will blaze and the lives you will touch.  It will not be boring and I am thrilled to watch it unfold.

I love you, sweet girl.  I am enormously proud to be your mother.  Enjoy this day and every day.  God bless you and keep you always.

Love,
Mom

Boy, Oh Boy!

When we were kids, my brother bet another boy that he could pee over a hedge for the right to ride the kid's bike.  And he did it.  No qualms about it.  Hey, it was a cool bike.

When Aidan was in Kindergarten, he and a group of boys would bust out of the school doors at the end of the day, dump backpacks with their mothers, and just run.  They were like Labrador retriever puppies escaping their cages to run free and pounce on one another in a heap of restless energy.

Now that he is older, it is the same energy - just channeled in a different way.  When Aidan is with friends, everything is a competition.  They constantly challenge each other to wall ball, football, basketball, Nerf duels, and video games.  They rate each others' ridiculous jumps into the pool.  They interact with one another through head-to-head competition.

Boys are such interesting creatures.  I grew up watching my brother, so I kind of "get" boys.  When I became a teacher, I had a soft spot for those active, boisterous beings.  I ended up having classes comprised disproportionately of boys and they clicked with my energy.  Little did I know then that my need to move and sing and be silly especially benefited my boys.

When I was teaching, I went to an inservice on teaching boys.  It was based on Dr. Bill McBride's discussion of gender differences in brain-based research, which shows that the male and female brains are structurally different and develop in a different order.

Girls and boys process and think about their emotions in different parts of the brain.  Think about how you and your husband react to any given situation!  Girls have more neural connectors, a larger corpus collosum, and more blood flow to the brain.  All of these features make girls better able to sit still, listen, multitask, and sense nuance in language.  Why does this matter, you ask?  Teachers love this behavior and structure their lessons to match it.

Boys are hard-wired for action - doing and constructing, straight talk, and loudness.  They learn by moving and building and they respond to big voices.  As the kids get older, how many opportunities do they get to engage in their own learning?  To build and problem-solve instead of sitting, listening, and taking notes?

Boys develop spatial awareness much sooner than girls, while girls develop language and abstract meaning earlier.  So by middle school, when both groups still have a long way to go in brain development, boys think they stink at writing and girls think they stink at math.

Boys have way more testosterone, which is the aggression and risk-taking chemical.  How many times have you said to your son, "Good Lord, child.  What were you thinking?".  They are driven to find out, "I wonder if I can jump from the roof into the swimming pool".

Meanwhile, girls have more serotonin, the calming chemical; and more oxytocin, the bonding chemical.  They tend to be more measured, placing higher value on building relationships and connecting with people.

Of course there are exceptions and not every boy or girl falls into these general characterizations.  But my children are terrific examples of these differences.  Both raised very similarly; both very bright, well-behaved students.  My son comes home from school and immediately needs to let off some steam after sitting much of the day.  He shoots hoops or rides his bike before he can even think about doing homework.  My daughter comes home and needs to reconnect with me, recounting her day in detail while she gets to work on her homework.  On birthday cards, Aidan writes, "Love, Aidan", whereas Madeline writes a novel.  I could go on.

It is no wonder that most teachers are females, who naturally nurture and relate to children.  So the school is a predominantly feminine institution in which boys must navigate and negotiate their education according to the female standard.  It would be interesting and exciting to see what would happen if educators really used this brain research to benefit both girls and boys.

Let me say that I do not subscribe to the "boys will be boys" sentiment.  I don't think that boys are just created to be aggressive thugs who can't sit and listen.  Of course they need to be attentive, respectful, and productive in school.  I just wonder if boys would still make up the overwhelming majority of discipline problems, the learning disabled, and high school dropouts if we applied this brain research to our teaching approach.  I think there is so much untapped potential in each gender for many reasons.  But school tends to be better suited to girls' behavioral and linguistic strengths.  Imagine what we could accomplish by tailoring boys' learning to boys' brains.  And if we properly channel and value their energy and competitive drive, wouldn't that also send the message to our girls that it is okay to be assertive, eager, and ambitious?

My kids' elementary school has been pretty great.  For the most part, their teachers have been enthusiastic, smart, creative, compassionate people.  There are terrific male teachers at our school, which is fantastic for our girls and our boys.  It is refreshing to see men teaching, reaching, and understanding boys.

Boys.  They are funny, active, complex and intense.  They do things we don't get.  But they make life exciting.  Hopefully our boys will leave their schooling with their restless, industrious spirits intact.  Their assertiveness and exuberance should be valued and used in the classroom so that they can carry it into a fiercely competitive, ever changing workplace that demands such qualities.

The Good Life is Not a Birthright

"Hey, guys.  I need you to bring down your dirty clothes."  No sound or movement from the children.  Five minutes pass.
"Aidan and Madeline, please bring me your dirty laundry."  Nothing.
"Now!".
"UUUUUUUGGGGHH", they moan in unison.
So for the bazillionth time I say to them, "Did I ask you to dig a ditch?  To pack up and go to war in the barren desert?" 
They bring me their laundry, but their attitudes stink.  Clearly my attempts to draw sharp contrasts to their cushy lives are ineffective.

Time to reassess my expectations and tactics.  So, the goal is to raise happy, kind, productive, self-sufficient people.  We're doing pretty well on happy and productive.  Both children are hard-working, devoted students who are also happily committed to their after school activities.  We need to work on kind and self-sufficient.  They are good, respectful, loving kids.  But, like most kids, they will do the bare minimum around the house.  And only when asked.  Several times.

Part of it is me.  Well, a lot of it has been me.  At first I didn't feel like they were old enough to help out around the house.  Then I didn't think they would do it to my satisfaction.  Now I see that these kids, who for all practical purposes are living the good life with their noses buried in their ipods, need to contribute more to their household.  They need to take personal responsibility for their space.  They need to value their home.  They need to know how to clean a toilet, fold laundry, and do some dishes for Pete's sake.

Sure, this lightens my load a bit.  But it's bigger than that.  Isn't this what I want my kids to do when they are grown?  Lift someone's burden?  Show compassion?  See beyond their own noses and help others?  I want them to grow up feeling that they are important, helpful, dependable members of this family.  My hope is that they carry this sense of duty into their friendships, their churches, and their own families. 

I believe that in the real world, when you want something, you work for it.  While we talk a lot about the value of money and putting material things in proper perspective, I don't think I have done enough to show them the amount of work that goes into running the household.  After all, the house has to be in running order so that we can eat, have friends over, and have clean dance clothes and team uniforms ready to go.  I'm pretty sure they don't appreciate the connection there.  Not yet.

In a world where you can get your meal as soon as you order it and you can Google your homework answers, I need to teach my kids that "the good life" is not a birthright.  It is not easy and it is not served on a silver platter.  Our children will not go to college and be handed a diploma without some measure of work.  They will not graduate and just fall into their dream jobs.  They will not build their families on selfishness and things.  They will arrive at these milestones through work and persistence.  How will they learn this monumental lesson in self-sufficiency if my husband and I are doing all of the doing and all of the giving?

So I am changing some things around here.  I am handing over the vacuum and the Pledge. More important, I will actively teach my kids to be aware of their capacity to help and serve others.  To offer their aid even when no one has asked. To contribute to a happy home, not just to be its benefactors.

I do not want my kids to ever feel entitled.  They need to know that they are blessed with a head start in life - a loving, supportive family that helps them study and cheers them on every step of the way.  They need to know that anything worthwhile takes work.  I want them to know that we are here on this planet to learn from one another and to give of ourselves.  It starts in this house.