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2001-10-02 - 6:19 a.m.
I was a good mother tonight. I was the type of good mother than can drive a teacher crazy. I was the type of good mother that says to her kid, �Don�t do this homework.� I couldn�t help it. The teacher is responsible for the part of the kid that should be learning. I�m responsible for the whole kid. Whatever this assignment was for the part of the kid who is learning to write, it was a destructive assignment for the whole kid. There really was nothing wrong with the assignment for most kids. The sixth grade does journals and obviously I�m not opposed to journals. This journal demonstrates that. No, the problem was that my kid was just not emotionally ready for the assignment. Not yet. Writing can be a catharsis but only if one is ready to think about a painful subject. There�s nothing wrong with letting painful subjects percolate and that�s what Day-Hay needs right now�her own time in which to let things percolate. The assignment was to write five or six sentences and begin with �If I were President of the United States, I would deal with the terrorist attacks by...� Miss High Anxiety is having enough trouble dealing with the terrorist attacks themselves. Thinking about what happens next makes her feel panicky. The whole concept of war, whether a new type or not, upsets her (and many of the rest of us). She was horrified when the teacher suggested that they should be reading headlines and keeping informed. It�s all she can do to keep reasonably calm. I was surprised when she chose to come to synagogue with us tonight. She could have gone to dance class. I know she�s struggling with why bad things happen to good people and I�ve been trying to let her approach God and religion on her own timetable too. There�s a time to push and a time to give space and my instincts tell me she needs hugs (or blown kisses which she�s often more comfortable with as she is not a hugger) and lots of space. It�s hard to watch one�s child struggle. It�s even harder not to jump in and flail around trying to fix it. I just keep repeating to myself that I have to give her the gift of time and space. Sometimes that�s the hardest gift to give. But tonight I could do something for her. I could call and leave a voicemail message for her teacher, asking that the teacher give her time and space�and an alternate assignment. So I did. I�m feeling like I did the right thing. Parenting teens and tweens rarely gives one that feeling. I think I�ll hold on to it a while. I�d better. It may help me not hold on to Day-Hay too tightly. ![]() |
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