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Lil'Gal, as anyone who follows me anywhere knows - has a MIND of her own. Before children, I had life with a daughter all fantasized in my mind. But even though we have bows and cuddles and tells stories together (well, her at 11 and in middle school while I secretly check the list to be sure we are on the same front and take names of the students I want to keep a-watch-on) we still find ourselves on the same page quite often.
Farmer, Jr. pretty much just tows the rope = anything that will get him to his next fishing trip or hunting excursion. (I remind him often how lucky he is to have so many opportunities afforded to him thanks the the hard work of his parents [Me and Daddy], his grandparents and all the sharing and wonderful friends we have.)
Even considering his dysgraphic disability he makes fantastic grades. A) He works as hard as he can; B) Under 504 the school knows he is an over achiever but that he needs accommodations to demonstrated that. C) He is blessed to have parents who are very involved and teachers who work with the parents and students.
So, today. The last week of the third week grading period. BEFORE WE ARE OFF FOR A MONTH. I receive a notification email that he has…. wait… I must breathe…. Okay…. No… wait….
A ZERO on an Independent Reading Assignment. HE READS LIKE A GENOUS (the boy can't write or print or get a word on paper but he could interpret an entire three book series as a play written in millions of words.).
I emailed his teacher immediately and as soon as I got him to myself at school I inquired:
"Ahem. What about that Independent Reading Assignment. You received a zero."
FJ, "What? I don't know what you are talking about…. Um, wait. Maybe. Let me see if it is in my binder. *searching overly full binder* I think this is it. But I didn't understand it."
Me, [Reading. For him? The easiest FREEEKING assignment ever, knowing him and his reading.]
Me, "WTHell?"
FJ, "Well, I didn't understand it and I didn't have a book to read."
Me, "Um, look at your bookshelf. You have hundreds of books there that you have read and I can ask you a question about any one of them and you could totally tell me the entire story in cliff notes."
FJ, "Well, its too late."
Me, "UM, NO. PICK A BOOK AND DO THE ASSIGNMENT."
FJ, *Huffing off.*
Like less than ten minutes later:
FJ, "Here it is. I picked my questions and wrote them on the sheet."
Me, [reviewing his answers], A) The assignment was to write the answers on a separate piece of paper and stapled to the assignment sheet. B) We can't read your answers (due to his dysgraphia) so you can dictate your answers and I will type them and we will attach both sheets.
FJ, "I am NOT going to rewrite the answers for such a small assignment (it is a minor grade and he currently has an A in his worst subject.)
Me, "UM. OH YES YOU WILL. *Pointing to Instructions* and you WILL dictate to me your answers. AND lucky for you I WILL type them up for you and print them and you will attach them to your assignment sheet."
FJ, "For such a minor grade?"
Me, "ZEROS are UNACCEPTABLE in THIS HOUSE."
Parenting is truly a joy. Not a right, but a beautiful gift and responsibility. My kids are awesome and great! But I raise them with the concept. Do you wanna' just do enough to get by? Or do you wanna' rule your world. In the end it is their decision. All we can do is direct them.
But little life lessons like the one tonight weigh out in the end. Things I taught my children and lessons I expressed and explained when they were five and six, they still bring to the table at 11 1/3 and weeks from 13. Every lesson counts. Every hug counts. Every atta'boy counts. And on the rare occasion the "that's all you feel like offering of yourself?" Makes a point too.
Happy parenting. It is by most… my favorite career ever.
