Chapter 23: Lessons

I forget sometimes what the world looks like when you’re four: where everything looms large and Dads looks like superheroes.  Sometimes I get so focused on my own world that I forget to see others orbiting around me.

This fall, Duke’s world took a major shift as he went from a publicly funded daycare to a privately run Montessori.  It was a change in setting, expectations, and personalities.  It was like starting a new job – without a job description.  I couldn’t help but be excited as I still remember my days in Montessori.  But Duke was anything but eager, especially on the coattails of summer.

The first day was tolerable, but the second day was devastating.  He gave us the silent treatment the entire car ride home.  Then, as soon as we walked in the door, he broke.  Sobbing, he told us how he didn’t like school.  How he didn’t know how to swing.  How the teachers didn’t push him. How all the other kids knew how… Except him.  My heart ached.

It was hard to see him in so much turmoil.  My knee-jerk reaction was to be upset with the teachers.  How dare they not push him on the swing?  Don’t they know he’s only four? And new? And sensitive?!  Fortunately, I’m not a single parent and my better, more-reasonable, half calmly announced “Then, we’ll have to learn!  Tomorrow, the first thing we’ll do after school is go to the playground and I’ll teach you how to swing.”

And that’s just what we did.  The next afternoon we marched straight to the swings.  Eloise was showing off.  Duke was getting frustrated.   And Chris was patiently explaining the physics of leg-pumping.

The moment was filled with metaphors.

Being a parent is probably the most demanding job I’ve ever had.  There are layers of responsibilities and heaps of frustration.  It’s heart-breaking to watch your child struggle and not do anything about it.  And while fixing the situation would be easier, it wouldn’t be fulfilling.

There’s this video that I show my students about how struggle makes you stronger.  We talk about conflict and how it makes a better story.  And while learning to swing might seem silly to most people, to a four-year-old, it means everything. 

When we picked up Duke the next day after school, he was beaming.  Anxiously, we asked how it went on the swings. He said that he went so high, he touched the leaves. 

At that moment, Chris became my superhero.  (It’s a perspective that Duke and I both share about him.)