When I discuss my childhood with my family, several words
generally come up in the conversation: precocious, stubborn, strong-willed,
energetic, smart… TROUBLE. It’s no news
to me that I was a little hard to handle; I
remember all-to-well the antics of my childhood.
One situation in particular comes to mind…
I remember having spent an
inordinate amount of time in the corner of Quitman’s finest (perhaps, at the
time, only) daycare, Clown Town. Though
I can’t remember the specifics that led to my punishment that day, I do remember
my dear teacher Ms. Tammy approaching my sad little stool in the corner and asking
me if I was ready to “be good.” If I
was, she persuaded, I could go play with my friends. Most kids would have jumped at the chance to
get out of trouble and into some fun.
Not me. I smiled at her and said,
“Nope.” This was typical Amanda
behavior.
With this in mind, I feel compelled
to share the latest happenings with my (ahem) darling 3-year-old, angel-baby Jake. Jake, God love him, is definitely, 100%
without question MY child. He looks like
me, acts like me, everything- a little male me.
The past two weeks at his daycare
have been especially difficult.
Complaints from the director have ranged from inability to listen to
refusal to keep hands to himself. Now,
I’ve never been thrilled with these
conversations, but I also never thought that these actions were completely
uncharacteristic of a 3-year-old boy.
The director evidently disagreed.
Seriously, imagine my surprise on Wednesday when the director, we’ll
call her Ms. Jane, calls and tells me that they can “no longer control” Jake
and they have made the decision to “dismiss” him from their daycare.
MY THREE YEAR OLD WAS KICKED OUT OF
SCHOOL?!?!?! ? Was she serious? The only thought that crossed my mind was, “You
can’t control a three-year-old??? How
can you NOT control a THREE-YEAR-OLD???”
Ugh! Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m
the first to admit that my little Cobra, as I call him, can drive me N-U-T-S,
nuts, but he is rarely uncontrollable at home.
Generally he listens. If he
doesn’t, he’s punished. Simple, right?
It goes without saying I was a
little, what’s the kindest way to say this… frustrated… when I arrived at the
boys’ school to pick them up later that day.
I have a seriously long fuse, but once I’m mad, watch out – there are
few natural disasters more severe than Hurricane Amanda and as several teachers
witnessed, an unseasonable storm rushed through daycare on a suspiciously sunny and beautiful
Wednesday afternoon.
Now, before I go on, it’s important
that I note that my frustration wasn’t solely reserved for the daycare. I was EXTREMELY, repeat EXTREMELY upset with
Jake. He knows how to act, he knows how
to mind, and the fact that he opted to do neither of these has infuriated me
beyond belief. But, to kick a 3-year-old
out of school simply seems to send the wrong message. I’m constantly encouraging Jake that he’s not
a “bad boy;" he’s a good boy who
sometimes makes bad decisions. The last thing I want is for my
little boy to think he’s bad. I believe in
the power of persuasion and often think back to The Chronicles of Narnia:
Prince Caspian where Trumpkin says, “You get treated like a dumb animal long
enough, that’s what you become.” I don’t
want my children to ever feel as though they have a reputation, especially a
negative one, they have to uphold.
The next day, after having a little time to cool
down, I called Ms. Jane. I apologized for not being my normal friendly
self, but was also quick to point out that I felt completely justified in my
frustration, I didn’t agree with the
decision, and was disappointed in the way everything was handled.
At this point, Ms. Jane started to cry and said that they’ve had to dismiss
children before, but this was the first time they’d dismissed a child who
wasn’t mean-spirited. She said that Jake
is funny, energetic, silly-hearted, and doesn’t have a mean bone in his
body. BUT, she continued, he talks a lot, often provokes, and is always
at the center of attention. My
response? Silence. There’s not a word of this that I can argue.
I discussed this conversation with
my mom who reminded me that I’ll look back on this and laugh someday. While Jules is often right, I have to say
that on this issue, she was dead wrong.
If I wait until he’s older to laugh about his mistakes, I’ll miss out on
the opportunity to appreciate the “now.”
Childhood is so precious, so fleeting, I never want to miss out on
breathing in and retaining as much of my boys’ childhoods as I can, for as long
as I can. That is why I’m going to do my best to laugh about this and other
adventures NOW.
And, quite frankly, I’m laughing
now because I’m not worried about the kid (again, definitely frustrated and he
has lost a ton of privileges and spent an excessive amount of time alone in his
room this week). However, as a former
troublemaker, I have a strong understanding of the often-squandered potential
that is buried inside a less-than-perfect child.
Here’s what I know: a child who is an “instigator” can become a
leader, a motivator. The “class clown”
becomes the friend who can make you laugh when all you want to do is cry. The kid who is always at the “center of
attention” develops poise and confidence and isn’t afraid or ashamed of who he
is. The “chatter-box” somehow always
knows the right thing to say. The “wild
child” with too much energy learns to channel that vigor into something he is
passionate about. I look at all of the things that an outsider could frown upon and see how those imperfections are shaping my wonderful little boy into someone I know will someday become an amazing man.
Is Jake perfect? No. Do
we have things to work on? Of course and
we certainly will. But I refuse to lose sight of the fact that my little boy is
going to be just fine, and even if he isn’t, I’m going to love that guy all
the same. His quirks, even the ones that
drive me insane, are the things that make him who he is and I wouldn’t change
him for the world.
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