Adventures and Lessons on Parenting

As parents, we always want to teach the value of perseverance and hard work.  Brave on, we say, even when the going gets tough.  The rewards you will reap will outweigh the discomfort you feel now.  Discipline is necessary.  All good things in life come from sticking with something until the very end.

But when does “sticking with it” become so onerous that it’s destructive to our psyches, our souls; when does it start to chip away at our self-esteem?  When does the benefit no longer outweigh the effort?  These are questions that are, at best, difficult for us to know how to answer for ourselves.  But when we try to answer them for our children, it becomes monumental.  I remember a conversation with my dear friend whose son was extremely gifted in gymnastics, but had decided to quit the training program that could have been a trajectory to national and international competitions.  She and her husband were torn about sending the right message to their son.  He was desperate to quit the rigorous training program.  They finally realized that he had already accepted he would not fulfill his/their dream (whose dream was it anyway?), and that he would end up just resenting the hours and days of practice from that moment on.

My son quit 5^th grade band this semester; to some, that sounds like a little thing, but it was a major decision in our household.  I’m not exactly sure of his reasons for choosing the French horn in the first place (maybe because it was French?), or what his motivations were for being in band, but my husband and I were thrilled that he wanted to play music, as we recognize he has musical talent.

He started off the semester with promise.  We went to the music store, rented a beautiful French horn, a large, gorgeously fashioned piece of brass.  It lay in a beautiful coil in its velvet-lined case.  He practiced daily, he showed us how the instrument worked.  He mastered the mouthpiece.  He started learning little songs.  Then, bit by bit, week by week, it started to unravel.  He no longer wanted to practice.  He became frustrated at not being able to read the notes.  I tried to help him, but the French horn register is different from that of the piano, so I didn’t know the exact notes he was supposed to be playing.  He stopped filling out his practice card.  He complained that the teacher wouldn’t help him.  I tried to help him see the challenge of classroom management for so many small bodies with instruments.  I scoured the internet for help, I tried to teach him sight-reading, but I had no idea of technique, or how to produce notes on the instrument.  Practice sessions ended in tears.  He wanted to quit.

I looked outward for help.  The teacher had suggested private lessons at the beginning of the semester, so back I went to the music store to find a teacher.  We met a lovely young university student, and I think my son developed a tiny crush on her; her encouraging words meant a lot to him, and things started looking up again.  I told him not to make a decision about quitting band until after Christmas; perhaps the winter break would soften him up, and the lessons would help him find his French horn “mojo” again.  He insisted that he would continue the lessons, but didn’t want to stay in band.  He just didn’t like it anymore.  “Shh,” I said, “wait until after break.”

So, the first Tuesday in January--while the ice and snow blanketed everything, the roads were unforgiving, and the temperature was still in the single digits, the day before the first day of school--we were supposed to have a French horn lesson, the first in the second set, where I would have to pay for the month of January.  The time drew closer for us to leave, but I sensed he didn’t want to go, I recognized the set of his jaw.  He was done.  Done with French horn.

I begged, I wheedled, I reasoned, I bargained.  All to no avail.  In the end, I had to send an email, and since it was only a couple of hours before the lesson, I had to call, get a call back, and explain to his teacher while she fought her way through nasty traffic and poor road conditions that my son wasn’t continuing lessons, that it wasn’t about her, that I felt terrible about cancelling at the last minute.

I hate cleaning up these messes.

But….there was still a chance that he would continue with band.  He, of course, absolutely refused.  And there were more reasonings, beggings, bargainings.  And a “discussion” that frankly ended in harsh words and tears.  In a last ditch effort, I told him, “all the adults I know that heard you were learning the French horn, said, ‘oh, I love the French horn!  I wish I’d continued lessons.  I regret quitting so early.’  You might regret it if you don’t continue.”

His response?

“Well, I guess I’ll just have to be one of those people who regrets quitting so early.”

End of discussion.

I finally got him to agree to continue music in another way by joining chorus.  He has a lovely voice, and is an outstanding singer.  Really.  And he only agreed, he said, because he had already told me that he wanted to switch to chorus.

I hadn’t heard that.  In fact, I realized, I hadn’t heard anything but those voices telling me from my own parents or other parents that “the rewards you will reap will outweigh the discomfort you feel now.  Discipline is necessary.  All good things in life come from sticking with something until the very end.”  I hadn’t really been listening to my son.  He’d given it his all, but it just wasn’t right for him.  And he had told me so, on several occasions.  He’d even tried the lessons to please me, but he really didn’t want to continue.  And I still hadn’t been listening.

After the canceled lesson, I went upstairs and sat on the couch next to him while he watched TV glumly.  I reached over and hugged him close to me.  “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you,” I said.

But, the story’s not over.  

There was another email exchange, this time between the band teacher and me.

Dear Mr. Band (obviously not his real name):

Over the Winter Break, we have had a long conversation about his playing the French horn and being in band.  My son has been trying the whole semester to keep up, and has even taken private lessons, but he has decided he no longer wants to participate in band.  His father and I were torn, not wanting to give him the message that it’s OK to quit something just because it gets difficult, but also not wanting him to end up hating music because we forced him to do it.  We decided to allow him to stop playing the French horn as long as he agrees to be involved with music in some other way.  He decided, with the teacher’s permission, to join Chorus instead this semester.

His response:

Dear Mrs. Garling:

Your son has the ability to play, but his skills are very inconsistent.  He never has a practice card filled out in class, so I cannot tell if he is spending time on the skills in the manner that I suggest.  I would like to see what would happen if he would spend 15-20 minutes practicing each day, using the practice card to help him focus on the specific song/skill. If you want to pull him from band, that is your decision and I will support it.  I believe that playing French Horn “looked” easy and fun, but he did not realize the work that was involved to make it look easy.  He can do it, but like everyone else needs to spend the time practicing.  Some students need to practice more, some less; just like math homework takes some students more time and some less.  I hope you will consider this in your decision.

I was puzzled.  Hadn’t I explained that he had already made the decision?  After some niceties, I pointed out:

My son doesn't give up easily in general, so I'm certain he is overwhelmed to the point where catching up is not a goal he feels he can achieve.  I was hoping the individual lessons would help him with this confidence, but it hasn't worked.

And then I got a message from the chorus teacher, who had been included in the email exchange:

I am happy to have him in chorus – was hoping that he would have also kept trying to play French horn – it’s not an easy instrument to play but with a little extra effort he no doubt could succeed.  This was Mr. Band’s suggestion as well.  But we honor your decision whatever it is.

Hmm….that almost sounds like you disapprove of our decision.  But no matter.

To make it as clear as possible, I responded:

Unfortunately, he doesn't want to pursue band any longer.  I have learned to pick my battles, and this one is my son’s call.  We've been trying to get him interested in singing as well, so I am thrilled that he's showing an interest in chorus.

It seems that I’m not the only one who’s not been listening to what the child is saying.  After all, it is his decision, right?

Parenting is hard.  But of one thing I am sure, is that parenting is sometimes about listening to your child before s/he gets to the end of his/her rope.  It’s not always about perseverance versus quitting, being tough versus letting him have his way.  It’s about listening.  Really listening. 

I’m so glad he reminded me of this.

Traveling forward to 2014--New Year's Revolution

It’s one week and one day into 2014, and I’ve decided it’s time to form my new year’s resolutions.  That is appropriate for me—I’ve always been a late-starter.  I was born eight days late, and been running about that late ever since.  In this household, we adhere to the 12 days of Christmas, so Christmas officially is over at Epiphany, January 6.  We didn’t take our tree down until the 4^th. I’m just now getting the last of the Christmas cookies and fudge out of the house (why do I make them, anyway?).  And—most importantly—my people are finally back at work and school, allowing me to resume a daily rhythm, allowing me time to reflect, allowing me space to incorporate.

A little over a week ago, my son told me he was going to make his new year’s “revolutions.”  I jumped to correct him, then hesitated.  Why not a revolution?  Because, sometimes, you gotta blow things up a little bit to get something new started.  So…what would I blow up?  Well, for starters, I’d like to blow up my unreasonably high expectations for everything.  Lose 50 pounds in four months!  Clean out and organize the whole house!  Keep it organized!  Stop spending money!  Learn to knit sweaters, make all my own clothes, design all my own shoes!  Be ready for a marathon in four months!  Bake all our own bread!  Become a vegan chef!

Random photo of fireworks taken by my husband to simulate explosion and represent New Year's celebrations

Boom. 

Blown up.

And then, I’ll start to build; small steps, covering more than one goal at a time.

Instead of this:                                              >>>>                        This:

Lose 50 pounds in four months!                                                                       

Be ready for a marathon in four months!     >>>>                   Increase my exercise to

include three days of higher-intensity activity; doctor has already told me to avoid running, so probably a marathon is out, unless I become an incredible power-walker, something it will take longer than four months to achieve.

Bake all our own bread!                              >>>>                   Building on our already

Become a vegan chef!                                                             healthy food repertoire, I will

try to bake bread once every two weeks, and start the family on two vegetarian days per week.  It’s not that hard, really, and we’ve already kind of started.  Yesterday’s example was pumpkin soup for lunch, and tofu pad thai for dinner.  We ate lots of veggies at just these two meals.

Clean out and organize the whole house!    >>>>                   Our son is already on a

Keep it organized!                                                                   schedule for weekly chores

and cleaning.  I just need to make a similar schedule for myself and follow it.  Bigger projects will be broken down as much as possible; instead of “organize the attic,” my weekly goal will be something like “clean and put books on one shelf.”

Stop spending money!                                 >>>>                   Um, yeah.  Always need

money.  But my goal could be more extensive meal planning, however, and then only buy the items on my grocery list and nothing else, right?  Also, looking first into my chest freezers to see if I could make a meal from there instead of going to the grocery store for something else.  I already don’t buy much for myself, well.....  Oh, and, renew my library card.  I spend a ridiculous amount of money on e-books.

Learn to knit sweaters, 

make all my own clothes,                             >>>>                  Right.  I did learn to knit a little

design all my own shoes!                                                        bit, but it will take me years at 

                                                                                                my current pace to finish an

actual sweater.  Better to make a plan to go to thrift and second-hand stores before buying new things from the internet.  I can save money AND get unique items.  I think I’ll have to save shoe design for my next life.

I’ve seen arguments for and against making new year’s resolutions (or revolutions, or goals, or whatever you want to call them).  For me, the only way that they have a chance of making an actual change in my life, and of outliving the tinsel and gift boxes, is if I make realistic, tiny changes towards being the person I want to be.  Actually, all these goals are superseded by my desire to be kinder to myself and to others.  And, like anything else, I can achieve this if I take it slowly, with reflection, one step at a time.  See?  I’m already being kinder to myself….