When I was in high school, I really loved English class. More specifically, I loved the writing assignments in English class. Those assignments gave my mind free reign to be as creative as I wanted. Kinda like writing this blog, actually.
What I've discovered, though, since waking up one morning to find my sweet, beautiful baby boy had morphed into a teenager, is that while I loved English class when I was taking it...... I really don't love it so much while he's taking it.
English class, and all of the writing that goes along with it, does not come easily to Jock. He struggles. And he struggles. And he struggles some more. A lot of kids would just quit. They'd walk away, knowing that at some point in their lives there will come along a new technology that will simply do the work for them. But quitting just isn't in this kid. So writing assignment after writing assignment, he diligently pushes on; and I sit on the sidelines and wrestle with myself not to just write the damn paper for him.
But as he reminds me every time I try to "boost" his papers...... Mom, my teacher KNOWS me. She knows I don't talk like that, or use longer words when a short, easy one works just as good. Trust me... she'll never believe I wrote this thing on my own if I use the word "decline" instead of "drop".
So I grit my teeth and step back into my little corner again. And I do whatever "mom" things I can to help him. I get him something to drink. I set snacks in front of him. I remind him that texting his friends isn't getting his homework done. And I don't tell him to go shut himself away from everyone so he can struggle through this on his own. Because even if I don't help boost the papers, I've realized that he just needs to have me there to boost him. He needs to remind himself that even though he knows I'll help, he does have the strength of character to make himself do it on his own. And really? I think I'm ok with being relegated to the position of his own personal endurance test. It's my job as his mother to push him to be the absolute best he can be.
Even if that means I just stand there while he pushes himself.