When Failure is an Option
When Jono was in the 4th grade, his teachers, Ms. Strobelt and Mrs. Lukehart, said to me, "We need to set him up for failure." Set him up to fail? It was hard to hear, but Jono tends to be a perfectionist. Starting papers over instead of crossing out mistakes. Ripping projects up instead of erasing a misspelled word.
"He needs to know that the Earth will not stop spinning if the paper is smudged. He can make a mistake."
I assured the teachers that we weren't standing over him at home, pressuring him to be perfect. They knew.
"This is who he is," said Ms. Strobelt, "but we can start to fix it now."
They stopped allowing him to re-start. And papers that had a corrected error were still worthy of being displayed on the wall. Little by little, he saw that he could relax a little, let go a little, and still fully succeed. It was a lesson he learned from someone other than me, and I learned how wonderful it was that others could teach him so well. Not only the academics, but such a powerful life lesson. I have never forgotten, and never will forget, how they helped him turn that difficult corner, a corner that was such a struggle for him.
Yesterday was Jono's 15-year check-up at the doctor. As always, Dr. Hornick asked about his asthma, his medicines, his breathing.
"Advair?" he asked, looking at Jono. Jono looked at me.
"He's supposed to take it twice a day," I said, emphasizing the "supposed."
"There is nothing worse than getting a teen-aged boy to take medicine," said the doctor. "You can beg, plead, leave it right on the counter, anything you want. But they simply will not take it."
I smiled a wry smile. It's a battle we fight every day.
Then Dr. Hornick said this: "Let him relax a little on the medicine. Let him manage it. Let him experiment. He's smart. He knows what he needs, and when he needs it. If his experiment fails, we can manage it."
This one might be tougher for me. Allow him to manage his medicines, and possibly fail? I ask the doctor about the worst case scenario. Apparently, if he overuses his inhaler here and there, it's okay. And if it goes in the other direction, we can manage an asthma attack and then add in some preventative medication.
Okay. It's a plan. I can back off. Yes. Of course I can. Can't I? How many years of school mornings asking if the inhaler is in the pocket/bat bag/backpack? How many thousands of times have I asked him to take his medicine? How many games spent wondering if he's breathing okay on the field?
Will I find relief in finally giving this up? What if I fail in the process of letting go?
Someday, sooner than I like to think about, he will be on his own. I will not be able to ask everyday. Maybe I need to participate in this experiment for myself, too. To see how it goes, how we both manage.
Later, I realize how many key phrases the doctor used in Jono's presence, for just the right amount of positive reinforcement. "He's smart, he knows what he needs, he knows when he needs it. If it fails, we can manage it."
Or maybe, those words weren't for Jono after all.
Dr. Hornick has been one of our doctors too! Allowing your child to make their own decisions on their life and how they live it is so valuable, especially if they make those decisions at a time in their lives when it is appropriate. Jono may not realize how lucky he is to have you as a parent and Dr. Hornick as his physician...what a gift!
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Surely every mom can relate to this ongoing challenge of parenting, which seems to just keep taking different forms as they grow. Thanks for your thoughtful words.
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Hi Christy,
Tough one, isn't it? I was told the same thing with Brad. I have to tell you, though, Christy- it was the best advice I have ever been given. I believe Brad grew in so many ways because I was told to let him fail. That huge change in my parenting style made him grow towards his potential.
We learn so much with our first one- just imagine if we had 20 of them!
XO
Dee
(Not that I am suggesting that!)
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