I had to bite my tongue and grip the countertop as my daughter made her first ham sandwich for her first sack lunch to eat on one of her elementary field trips.
As Sophia painstakingly unwound the twist-tie from the bread bag and sloooooowly pulled two slices out, I knew this would be my daily lesson in self-restraint. I could have had the entire lunch packed and sitting by the door in the time it took her to unzip the deli bag, separate one shaving from the meat stack and carefully fold it into a triangle to fit on the bread. But despite the fact that I had 50 house chores next in line, I stood by my 5-year-old and imagined the lunchtime scene at the farm, when Sophia would unpack each course and tell her friends, “These are the grapes I chose,” and “I filled this bag of pretzels myself.”
Both Sophia and her little brother Jack are tickled whenever they accomplish what they perceive to be a big-kid task. In fact, one of Jack’s current favorite phrases as he gets ready for preschool is, “I do it all by myself!” Knowing how much pride my kids take in self-sufficiency, I wonder why I’m so quick to squelch it? Convenience and to decrease parent stress, probably—it’s just always going to be easier and faster for me to pour the juice, tie the shoes, zip the coat. Unfortunately, I’ve even found myself overthrowing their independence in situations where I have no business butting in. And I’m not the only one.
At the first session of Jack’s parent-child gymnastics class, six preschoolers sat in a circle with their mothers sitting right behind them, all eyes trained on Miss Sue to see what she had in store. With the appropriate level of enthusiasm and volume, Miss Sue asked the kids, “Can you guys reach your hands to the sky?” And before the children even had a chance to twitch, six mothers bent down to their kids and said, “Can you reach your hands to the sky?” This repeating continued throughout the class. We acted as interpreters, as if Miss Sue were speaking French. At some point it dawned on me: Didn’t I enroll in this course to help Jack learn to take instruction from adults other than his parents? And wouldn’t my constant reinforcement of Miss Sue’s commands have the exact opposite effect?
I’ve noticed this phenomenon at library storytime, in half-day preschool programs and even, heaven help us all, in kindergarten. And it doesn’t seem to stop when Mom leaves the room. Sophia takes big-kid gymnastics lessons at the same facility, but instead of walking alongside her as she flips and rolls, I watch from behind a floor-to-ceiling window that runs the length of the room. At the first class, I caught myself mouthing through the glass to Sophia that she needed to pay attention, complete with pointing gestures and a stern expression. Some parents go so far as to bang on the window to get their kids in order, perhaps momentarily forgetting that they’ve just forked over hard-earned money so the instructor will do just that.
At what point do we control-freak folks take five steps back and allow our kids to succeed—and fail—on their own? I’m hoping it’s soon. Perfection is an exhausting state to strive for day in and day out. And a ham sandwich that takes two grubby little hands 10 minutes to make is always tastier than the one Mom slaps together in seconds.
Kavanagh is an EduGuide contributing editor.