I made my child hate reading.
No, seriously. This summer we practiced reading, just like we were supposed to in order to keep up her learning from Kindergarten. By the end of the summer, her stance was firmly, “I don’t like reading.”
I don’t I blame her, to be honest with you. Learning to read is hard. It’s frustrating. As an adult, I understand the benefits of perseverance. I know that the outcome of the struggle is the enjoyable part. But she is six. She likes doing things that she is good at that are fun. If it is anything that runs the risk of struggle or failure, she is not interested. She will give up before she even tries.
This is a hard situation to parent in. I might be a weirdo, but I would rather see her try at something than be good at it. Don’t get me wrong, it’s fun to see the things that come naturally to her. But my proudest moments are when she struggles and tries and finally succeeds.
So, naturally, when she started to get frustrated with reading and stopped trying, I pushed back and encouraged her to try harder.
Any parent of a strong-willed child can predict what happened next. (Hint: Me telling her to try harder did not make her want to try harder. Shocking, I know.)
Needless to say, I was at a loss for what to do. (And also possibly having a miniature pity party over my failure as a parent.) How will she ever learn perseverance if she gives up before she even tries? How will she develop grit if I let her run every time things get hard? As a parent, isn’t it my job to present her with opportunities to struggle so that she can learn how to handle struggling? Isn’t it my job to push her to grow?
So I decided to pick the brain of one of my wisest friends who is both a parent and a teacher. After explaining the situation, she offered thoughtful feedback: that I should wait to see how school went and focus instead on building my daughter’s confidence when it comes to reading.
Yet, I still didn’t feel satisfied. If I backed off, wasn’t I teaching her that it was okay to quit trying? I wanted to know how to push my daughter to do hard things in a way that she would respond to rather than rebel against. I wanted her to learn perseverance and grit and determination. I just didn’t know how to teach them to her.
It took a while before it occurred to me: maybe I couldn’t.
All summer, we have been working on learning to ride a bike with no training wheels. Up until the reading motivation dilemma, this was the hardest thing I have ever encountered as a parent. Yes, I am serious. On the bike, she is scared for me to let go of her (and honestly I’m scared to let go). Then she is so focused on me not letting go that she won’t pedal or steer (two pretty critical pieces of riding a bike). So we go around and around and never seem to make any progress. She can tell when I get frustrated and then she wants to quit.
After one particularly frustrating lesson, I had the realization that maybe I wasn’t the best person to teach her this skill. Her step dad is infinitely more patient and encouraging than I am. Maybe he would help her build her confidence. Maybe he would be able to let go when the time came.
I’m not sure if it’s that I tend to err on the side of being a control freak, or if it was the time I spent as a single parent that made me feel like I was responsible for teaching her because if I didn’t do it no one else would. But somehow, it felt shocking to me to admit that someone else could teach her something better than I could. I mean, I’m her mom, you know? This is my responsibility.
But now I wasn’t so sure.
What I was sure of was this: me pushing her wasn’t working. It didn’t feel right to stop pushing because I didn’t want her to quit trying. But the more I pushed, the more she wanted to quit trying. I was stuck.
Thankfully, not for long.
As it turns out, my friend’s advice was exactly what I had needed to hear, even if I didn’t hear it at first. “It’s different at home than at school. You are mom. It will be different with teacher,” she said.
She spelled it out for me and I still didn’t get it because I was so focused on figuring out how to do it myself. It hadn’t occurred to me that maybe I wasn’t the right person to deliver this lesson.
Or, more importantly, maybe I wasn’t the only person necessary for delivering this lesson.
The truth is, learning perseverance is a complicated lesson that requires challenge, motivation, encouragement, and celebration. I had been trying to play every role for her. No wonder it wasn’t working.
My friend helped me to understand that I don’t need to play every role. There will always be opportunities in her life to face things that feel difficult and frustrating. There will always be people and situations that challenge her. School is a great place for her to be challenged.
And it’s also a great place for her to find motivation. Her teacher will push her. Competition with peers will push her. Her own drive for independence and learning will push her. I don’t need to provide her motivation.
I just need to encourage her to find it.
That’s really the key, isn’t it? Perhaps the the most important role for me to play as a parent is simply that of cheerleader. I had gotten so caught up in figuring out how to push her that it didn’t occur to me she might need something else from me instead.
The other key piece of advice my wise friend offered was this: observe her and learn what is working and what isn’t. It wasn’t hard to do. When I pushed her, she deflated. When I encouraged and celebrated her, she blossomed. It doesn’t get more obvious than that.
Life is full of chances to do hard things. We could all benefit from having someone in our corner.
From now on, I will be in hers.
Update:
After writing this, I found this awesome post by another mom/teacher who has a similar experience. Here is one of my favorite quotes:
“And sometimes we have to let others, like tour guides, do the teaching. I struggle to give feedback on thesis statements on my daughters’ work, something I do every week in my college classroom. When my kids bring me an essay to proofread, they may well up in tears if I mention a missing comma. Uncle Peter, though, taught them how to ride bikes in less than five minutes on a family vacation. My husband had failed at the task for more than a year. As their mom, I have to wait for the questions rather than begin with answers. It’s difficult to teach my kids because even constructive critique threatens our bond. At home, I lack the luxury of professional distance.”
As their mom, I have to wait for the questions rather than begin with answers. Even constructive critique threatens our bond. I love this so much.
Click here to read the full post.