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Unnecessary Expectations: A Lesson in How Not To Worry
by Lisa Rivero
Toilet training. Reading. Bicycle riding. Manners. Patience. Penmanship.
Multiplication tables. Spelling. Fitting in. Being oneself. Following rules.
Standing up for oneself. Computer time. Driving. Physical fitness. Dating.
College preparation. Healthy eating habits. College applications. Living in
a dorm.
If the above list makes your stomach knot, you must be a parent. We parents
worry about whether our children are learning enough, doing things on time,
gaining needed skills, and generally prepared for whatever life throws at
them. We are trained to worry from the very beginning, when our baby’s
height and weight are charted according to percentiles, when we watch for
and record the month and day when our child first rolls over or smiles or
crawls. We worry about various kinds of readiness: kindergarten readiness,
reading readiness, sleepover readiness, college readiness.
Parents of gifted children also worry about other things: uneven development
, levels of challenge, acceleration, finding friends, underachievement,
perfectionism. Even if our children are “on time” with skills, we worry
they should be doing them sooner because they are, after all, gifted. And if
they are ahead of schedule, we worry that we are pushing them or they aren
’t adequately challenged or something else must be in need of fixing.
Our answer to all this worry is often to try to cram as much wisdom, skill,
and experience into our children as possible in the years they are in our
care. We are always thinking ahead, planning for what our children will need
for the next step, helping them to improve.
I’d like to ask if many of the expectations we have for our children are
not so much unrealistic as unnecessary. With the best of intentions, could
we be denying our children a sense of having an influence over their own
lives and, in the meantime, losing sight of the joy of the moment as we look
always to the future?
。。。
。。。
。。。
Now that our son is seventeen, I sometimes think back to the worries I had
while he was growing up. Some of them were academic in nature: learning
multiplication tables, writing in cursive, fitting in lab science as a
homeschooler. Others had to do with social-emotional needs: balancing alone
time with social time, finding good friends, self-confidence.
Most of my worries were a waste of time. He learned multiplication
simultaneously when he learned algebra. He never did learn cursive, except
for his signature, and probably will never need it. I teach college students
, and I know from experience that a small fraction of them write anything in
cursive (and if he does need it, he can pick it up fast). He skipped high
school lab science altogether, and waited to take a college chemistry class
as a dual enrollment student.
In terms of finding a good balance of alone time and social time, this need
will change when he goes to college in the fall. I trust that he’ll figure
it out when the time comes and be able to ask for help and advice. Through a
theater program and our homeschooling group, he has a group of very close
friends, both boys and girls—better friends than I ever had at his age.
When he was seven or even ten, I could not have foreseen this gift in his
life. His self-confidence and self-knowledge continue to grow, and I
frequently remind myself that as much as I’d like to, I can’t see the
world through his eyes. His perspective is his own.
Of course, the answer is not to throw up our hands in either despair or
apathy. A little worry keeps us on our toes and helps us to re-evaluate and
change course. However, if we have gotten in the habit of worrying about
everything equally rather than saving worry for the really big problems, we
might need to learn how not to worry, at least so much, and to practice not
worrying, at least for today.
Perhaps the real lesson is not so much about our parenting as about
ourselves. If Eleanor Roosevelt was right, then how we change and grow as
adults right in front of our children, where they can see us, is more
effective in the long run than cajoling and nagging and bribing and, yes,
worrying. I have watched with interest how my son, on his own, has become
much more organized recently: using his white board to make lists, giving
himself points for getting tasks done during the day, and asking for
reminders when he needs them without accusing us of nagging him (parents of
teenagers know what a breakthrough this is!). I don’t think it is a mere
coincidence that this change in him has happened only after I began to
change myself.
The goal of life-long learning, growth, and self-actualization—rather than
the faster-is-always-better and continual early success approach to
parenting—removes many of the artificial timetables we impose on ourselves
and our children. Our children ultimately will make mistakes, learn from
them, and be in control of their lives. They (and we) will never run out of
things to learn about our world and ourselves.
The next time you find yourself worrying excessively about an expectation
your child is not meeting, ask yourself this: What if that expectation were
not met until later? How might things still work out? What if your child
needs to learn this skill on her own? What if you decide not to worry about
it just for today, and to enjoy the sunshine (or rain or snow)?
Better yet, what do you want to learn today? What do you want to become?
http://giftedhomeschoolers.org/articles/unnecessary.html
by Lisa Rivero
Toilet training. Reading. Bicycle riding. Manners. Patience. Penmanship.
Multiplication tables. Spelling. Fitting in. Being oneself. Following rules.
Standing up for oneself. Computer time. Driving. Physical fitness. Dating.
College preparation. Healthy eating habits. College applications. Living in
a dorm.
If the above list makes your stomach knot, you must be a parent. We parents
worry about whether our children are learning enough, doing things on time,
gaining needed skills, and generally prepared for whatever life throws at
them. We are trained to worry from the very beginning, when our baby’s
height and weight are charted according to percentiles, when we watch for
and record the month and day when our child first rolls over or smiles or
crawls. We worry about various kinds of readiness: kindergarten readiness,
reading readiness, sleepover readiness, college readiness.
Parents of gifted children also worry about other things: uneven development
, levels of challenge, acceleration, finding friends, underachievement,
perfectionism. Even if our children are “on time” with skills, we worry
they should be doing them sooner because they are, after all, gifted. And if
they are ahead of schedule, we worry that we are pushing them or they aren
’t adequately challenged or something else must be in need of fixing.
Our answer to all this worry is often to try to cram as much wisdom, skill,
and experience into our children as possible in the years they are in our
care. We are always thinking ahead, planning for what our children will need
for the next step, helping them to improve.
I’d like to ask if many of the expectations we have for our children are
not so much unrealistic as unnecessary. With the best of intentions, could
we be denying our children a sense of having an influence over their own
lives and, in the meantime, losing sight of the joy of the moment as we look
always to the future?
。。。
。。。
。。。
Now that our son is seventeen, I sometimes think back to the worries I had
while he was growing up. Some of them were academic in nature: learning
multiplication tables, writing in cursive, fitting in lab science as a
homeschooler. Others had to do with social-emotional needs: balancing alone
time with social time, finding good friends, self-confidence.
Most of my worries were a waste of time. He learned multiplication
simultaneously when he learned algebra. He never did learn cursive, except
for his signature, and probably will never need it. I teach college students
, and I know from experience that a small fraction of them write anything in
cursive (and if he does need it, he can pick it up fast). He skipped high
school lab science altogether, and waited to take a college chemistry class
as a dual enrollment student.
In terms of finding a good balance of alone time and social time, this need
will change when he goes to college in the fall. I trust that he’ll figure
it out when the time comes and be able to ask for help and advice. Through a
theater program and our homeschooling group, he has a group of very close
friends, both boys and girls—better friends than I ever had at his age.
When he was seven or even ten, I could not have foreseen this gift in his
life. His self-confidence and self-knowledge continue to grow, and I
frequently remind myself that as much as I’d like to, I can’t see the
world through his eyes. His perspective is his own.
Of course, the answer is not to throw up our hands in either despair or
apathy. A little worry keeps us on our toes and helps us to re-evaluate and
change course. However, if we have gotten in the habit of worrying about
everything equally rather than saving worry for the really big problems, we
might need to learn how not to worry, at least so much, and to practice not
worrying, at least for today.
Perhaps the real lesson is not so much about our parenting as about
ourselves. If Eleanor Roosevelt was right, then how we change and grow as
adults right in front of our children, where they can see us, is more
effective in the long run than cajoling and nagging and bribing and, yes,
worrying. I have watched with interest how my son, on his own, has become
much more organized recently: using his white board to make lists, giving
himself points for getting tasks done during the day, and asking for
reminders when he needs them without accusing us of nagging him (parents of
teenagers know what a breakthrough this is!). I don’t think it is a mere
coincidence that this change in him has happened only after I began to
change myself.
The goal of life-long learning, growth, and self-actualization—rather than
the faster-is-always-better and continual early success approach to
parenting—removes many of the artificial timetables we impose on ourselves
and our children. Our children ultimately will make mistakes, learn from
them, and be in control of their lives. They (and we) will never run out of
things to learn about our world and ourselves.
The next time you find yourself worrying excessively about an expectation
your child is not meeting, ask yourself this: What if that expectation were
not met until later? How might things still work out? What if your child
needs to learn this skill on her own? What if you decide not to worry about
it just for today, and to enjoy the sunshine (or rain or snow)?
Better yet, what do you want to learn today? What do you want to become?
http://giftedhomeschoolers.org/articles/unnecessary.html
