Looking back at an old blog I had when my kids were young, I found this gem of a post. It almost makes me yearn for the days when my kids were small, discovering, and exploring the world through their smaller eyes. It recalls one of those lovely moments that are so easy to forget. Fortunately, I had the presence of mind to write it down. 12 years later, I’m so grateful for that.
This is my 7-year-old Sophie. Her hot pink glasses magnified her eyes like saucers. She wasn’t my chatty one, but on this day, sometime around 2013, she had a lot to say.
Raising kids is anything but predictable. That’s what makes it exciting, anxiety-provoking, inspiring, and sometimes, just plain fun.
Sophie usually eats dinner pretty quietly. Occasionally, she blurts out random factoids that occur to her in a stream-of-consciousness fashion.
“Mommy, have you ever seen Tarzan the movie?” Yes, I think so.
She proceeds to tell me that Tarzan’s parents were killed by a gorilla, and that he tracked blood on his feet.
Hmmm. Okay. That must have been sad. “Yeah.”
A few more bites, and Chris suggests we should go to the zoo this spring. Her eyes widens, cheeks smile, and she says, “Yes, I would like that very much. How about tomorrow?”
Tomorrow will be 35 degrees, so we explain that later in the spring would be better.
“Oh. Okay. But I don’t want to see the howler monkeys.” Okay, but why? She made a face, “I just don’t want to.” Okay, but you do realize they are behind glass so they can’t bother you? Chris made some mention about spider monkeys, which made her shiver. “What do they do?” They climb, just like other monkeys. “Oh.”
A few more bites.
“Have you ever heard of a fairy penguin?” Ummm, no?
“They are teeeeeeny little penguins” That’s why they’re called ‘fairy’ penguins? “Uh huh,” she grins, since she just taught us something.
So they must have teeny little wings too. To which she replies in true librarian-style, “no, they have flippers – penguins don’t have wings. They are used to steer in the water.”
We sigh and smile, because she just served us.
How do you know about this stuff? “I read it in a book,” she says with a goofy, half-toothed grin.
This is the way many of these dinner conversations go and we as parents are immensely entertained by them.
The reason this silly conversation is so important to me is that Sophie has anxiety that is provoked by lack of confidence in the things she doesn’t think she knows. When we do homework that is challenging or ask her questions she’s not ready for, a swell of self-doubt consumes her. This results in a variety of shut-down responses, sometimes rendering her incapable of moving forward, making connections, or she just plain bursts into tears. It is devastating to see such a smart little girl literally crumble in the shadow of her own confusion, and it is a nasty cycle that we are trying to help her break.
One of the tactics we’ve recently discovered – let her be the teacher.
When she is in “teaching mode,” she provides facts, connections, details, all with a pride and joy that we don’t see when we are “demanding” information from her. When we ask her questions about things, her answers are usually in the form of a question. No ownership of the knowledge she has. But when she teaches, her information is declared. Recited. Implored. All without a shred of doubt or worry. It is a magical thing we are discovering, because it empowers our little 7-year-old girl to be a forceful voice, rather than a withering wallflower.
And here’s the thing. This is something I should have known all along. Because I, as a teacher, must learn everything before I can teach it. I am also not a particularly fast learner – I read big texts slowly (and repeatedly), my math skills are not too spiffy, and my memory is (at best) poor. However, through exposure and repetition, I can teach almost ANYTHING. If I can learn it, I can teach it in 5 different ways. And my students can learn it.
So, I must remember to employ the very thing that has made me a successful adult, make her a successful kid. Encourage her to teach. It gives us both a sense of joy and pride to educate another person. It gives us a sense of value and self-worth. Purpose, even.
Fast forward 12 years.
Sophie is now a junior in college. She’s majoring in Sociology, has leadership roles in several clubs, and is living the dream as a college student.
The road to get there wasn’t easy. That anxiety stuck with her and she’s had to overcome a lot to get where she is. When I look back on that little girl and see how far she’s come, my heart swells. This is my “under the radar kid.” I expect the unexpected, which challenges my impatience, but tickles my future self. She unfurls on her own time, in her own way.
I couldn’t be more proud of every version of her.
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