blueprint

It’s the day you dread as a parent. It’s an impending day from the moment your child is placed into your arms just minutes after their birth. It’s the day that the advice you give them doesn’t take hold, and there isn’t a thing on earth you can do about it. You want to react. You want to take hold of the situation and use whatever power of influence you have to change the outcome. And you realize that you have no power. You have no influence. The outcome will never change.

Yesterday letters were handed out inviting students to become members of National Junior Honor Society (NJHS) at my daughter’s middle school. She’s not a straight A student, but she does maintain good grades overall.

I’m a big reader. From the moment I found out I was pregnant with her, and there was a second set of ears who could listen, I started to read aloud. I read everything to her. And when guests at my baby shower brought me a book instead of a card, I reveled in the fact that her nursery, yes, adorable with forest creatures and decorative objects, had an entire wall full of books. When she was born, we spent hours a day reading together. To me, that was magic. My two favorite things, my daughter and a book, in my arms all at once. But when she started to grow and discover the world around her, different things called to her. At the age of four, she reached for a guitar instead of a book. And learning music made her yearn to listen to music. She was also beginning to reach for other things too – a paint brush, a sketch pad.

And then, in first grade she began to struggle with reading. After a failed attempt at reading in front of her class, a student leaned over and told her that she was a horrible reader and that she was stupid. That was the point that she went from not having a desire to read, to a complete disdain for it. When I tried to encourage her to read, it was like telling her it was time to go to the dentist. In second grade, her teacher worked after school with her and read, and she instilled a renewed confidence in her. And even then, she was able to read well, but she didn’t have the drive to pick up a book just because she wanted to. She won’t have a book in the car, or in her purse, or feel a sense of anxiety if one isn’t within reach (ahem…)

And as the years went on, she started reaching for other things. A basketball, a volleyball.

This morning in my yoga class, my teacher encouraged us to reflect on times when we used another person’s life or practices as a blueprint. Perhaps it was during a time when parenting was particularly hard, or a method worked well for them – a workout routine, travel that they recommend. And when you try it, the outcome isn’t the same. And you remember it’s because you aren’t that person. Your experience and approach will be different.

My mind went to my daughter. I will at times ask myself why she doesn’t read like I do, why she doesn’t have a love and passion for it. Sure, I can blame the mean kid from first grade, or I can just remind myself that I shouldn’t expect her to apply my blueprint.

She did not receive an invitation to become a member of NJHS. The teacher handed out letters to every student but a few, and it was apparent that the kids who did not receive a letter didn’t work hard enough, or weren’t smart enough, and that whisper from first grade came ribboning back, surrounding her and clouding her mind. I told her that this decision doesn’t define her, to which she responded, “yes it does.” An NJHS induction is something she has worked hard for all year. We told her if she put in the effort, and worked really hard, she would make it in. Aside from grades, there is also weight on character, leadership, and service to others. We thought for sure it would be an easy decision.

Last night, I couldn’t get the image of her sitting in the classroom, watching most of her class get a letter, and having to face the other students with her head held high. I spent a lot of time last night and this morning upset for her. But then I was reminded that she is drawing her own blueprint. Her path will not be the same as her classmates, as her teammates, as her best friend. I’m happy that she did reach for a guitar, and art supplies, and “sportsballs.” (…I am not an athlete). Her blueprint will be exclusively her own. And I hope one day she can use this disappointment as strength, resilience, and determination for something else down the line. And that the components are all there, she just has to figure out how to use them.