I do not hold the monopoly on great stories. This one was related to me by my colleague the other day, while sitting over lunch.
My colleague is a Resource teacher. In layman's terms, she works as a Remedial teacher, to boost reading and other learning skills. It's a tough job. A Resource teacher has to have a bag of strategies miles deep in order to keep the children engaged and interested. Sometimes she works in the class with small groups of children. Other times, children are withdrawn from class in order to enjoy more intense learning in the quieter environment of the Resource Room.
One day, Resource teacher went to pick up the little boy from his Grade 2 class. The walk down the hall was uneventful and they reached their destination without incident. The two sat down together, ready to learn. The teacher pulled out the books and activities and placed them on the desk for both of them to see. It was then that the boy stopped, turned his head to look up at her and queried, "Who signed me up for this?"
I've always found it ironic that all those instructional books on child rearing seem to stop when the baby arrives at his fifth birthday. Up until then, you can track every little aspect of a baby's growth using these books. The specialists tell you when the baby is supposed to sleep through the night, when he should be learning to crawl or walk, or eat independently, or become toilet trained. It's all neatly laid out...until the baby turns five. And then, out of nowhere, the advice stops cold. It's like the experts are saying, 'Ok, you know what to do. Now, Skedaddle!' From that moment on, raising a child becomes a mystery. You're suddenly on your own. Bookless.
I've always considered that whole child raising issue a conspiracy. I think it's done purposely, so that we parents don't get scared. A book will give you step by step instructions on how to cure bedwetting, but no one tells us how to prepare a child for going on a first date, or (Heaven forbid) help us deal with the shock of it (hint: copious amounts of liquor). No child rearing books tell us how to get a teenager to pick his (or her...I've experienced both) stuff off the floor. We are told how to cope with Whooping Cough (now called the hundred day cough...and I've counted it...and it really lasts exactly one hundred days, each one a glorious nightmare), but not what to do when our first...or our last child enters university.... and there's NO child rearing book that deals with helping us get through the first child getting married (hint: copious amounts of liquor). It's all a well kept military secret, designed so that no one will ask early on, Who signed me up for this?
No one tells us that parents die, that young people get sick, that the rich get richer (that really sucks!), that life is filled with disappointments, and that sometimes, from seemingly nowhere, just when everything seems to be going right, something happens to make it go terribly wrong. It makes one ask, Who signed me up for this?
That little boy asks a really good question. It's a question that stems from confusion, from a point where it seems that there's a lack of fairness going on. This child sees that he's been chosen, but like Tevye, asks the question, "...once in a while, can't You choose someone else?" As adults who have 'been there', we chuckle with empathy.
What that child doesn't realize is that because he is 'signed up' for this class, his life in school might just happen to change dramatically for the better. Someone noticed that the child needed an extra boost to get him on track, advocated for him and did something about it to make things right. With some hard work, time and support from all sides (teacher, student and parents) this student just might eventually thank those who 'signed him up', because he will not feel as lost in the scary land known as school.
There's a great Yiddish phrase that goes, kleine kinder, kleine tzuris...grosse kinder, grosse tsuris (little children, little problems...big children, big problems). We big children live with the big problems in life, as well as the little ones. Dealing with our issues can be difficult, especially when we're mired in the problem. That's where our little friend comes in to help teach an invaluable lesson.
Whereas children often need someone to advocate for them, I've learned that I need to advocate for myself. Recognizing that there is a problem in the first place is difficult enough, but just knowing that it exists is not sufficient. It's important to work to find a way to muddle through whatever it is that life throws my way. I need time. I need to do the hard work. And I need support from the right people in our life. Without a doubt, I get by with a little help from my friends. Some problems can't be solved completely, but with the right tools, and with the right friends, I might not feel as lost in the scary place called life.
And neither will you.
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