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Madre orgullosa
Dec. 14th, 2008 06:47 pmSome days I'm so proud of my kids it's hard not to brag. Yesterday and Friday were two such days.
Friday was nothing huge, just both of them being very sweet to a little 18-month-old boy who wandered over and looked at their snacks after swimming class. Justin smiled at him, then crouched down to listen to him, was very patient, made him smile, and generally just charmed the bib off him. Daniel looked around the snack area until he found the little boy's mom, then went over to ask her if they could let him have any of their Cheetos and tiny Oreos. Mom said yes. That was one happy little guy :)
Saturday they went to Spanish class. Justin was involved in an incident with another little boy who apparently punched him in the stomach, knocking him down, and making him cry. Said little boy then made fun of him and said, "You said you're a blue belt in TaeKwon-Do? Punch me back then! I dare you!!"
Justin didn't hit back. He went to the teacher and told her what had happened, and then after class he went to the kid's father and did the same.
You'd have to see Justin next to this kid to understand why this was impressive. Never mind the blue belt aspect of things; Justin's huge. He could probably eat the other kid as an after dinner mint. But a very, very big part of TaeKwon-Do involves learning and internalizing the lesson that violence is never to be used except as a very last resort. I'm so incredibly proud of him for getting it.
Daniel, on the other hand, had a great Spanish class. He's the smallest, newest, and least proficient kid in his Spanish class (he just moved up to the class this September; I really didn't think he was ready), and he often feels out of his element. A few weeks ago the kids were asked to do projects on Spanish-speaking countries. Daniel got Chile. He was working with another kid, who did half the research and translated their work to Spanish. The teacher was impressed as all hell, and told the class that the work Daniel and his partner did was what they should all be aspiring to.
I was particularly thrilled for him because we'd just gone to see a social worker who works with kids with social difficulties and he'd said something about Spanish class that left me shaking my head at my own cluelessness. Daniel had told him he was looking forward to being part of a social skills group, but said, "But don't make me the odd man out, OK?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, I'm usually one of the odd kids, and that's OK, because I usually have one friend, but in some places like in Spanish class I'm really the odd one out, because I don't have any friends and my brother isn't there. And I'm the youngest one there and I'm not very good at Spanish."
"And it must be difficult, too," said the social worker, who had been informed of Daniel's off-the-charts verbal skills scores, "because, being a wordsmith, not being able to express yourself easily must make it really tough for you. Right?"
Um, yeah. Daniel beamed at him, pleased to be so well understood, and I mentally slammed my head against the table. I know Daniel's good with words. I know how much he revels in that. And while I'd worried that he'd feel a bit out of things in advanced Spanish class because of his skill level, it hadn't occurred to me that he'd feel any more out of it than he'd feel if he was put into a swimming class where he wasn't terribly skilled. Or soccer. Or anything like that.
ACK! ( Aside, not Daniel-related )
Anyway. He was so pleased with himself. He'd worked really hard on the assignment, and it was so wonderful to see his hard work pay off, especially in an area he'd been struggling with so much. Particularly because he hadn't complained about it, at all. He'd just done the work he needed to do, dealt with his feelings of inferiority and isolation, and succeeded far beyond his own expectations.
Kids. They can piss you off more than anybody in the world, and then turn around and leave you totally breathless with pride.
Friday was nothing huge, just both of them being very sweet to a little 18-month-old boy who wandered over and looked at their snacks after swimming class. Justin smiled at him, then crouched down to listen to him, was very patient, made him smile, and generally just charmed the bib off him. Daniel looked around the snack area until he found the little boy's mom, then went over to ask her if they could let him have any of their Cheetos and tiny Oreos. Mom said yes. That was one happy little guy :)
Saturday they went to Spanish class. Justin was involved in an incident with another little boy who apparently punched him in the stomach, knocking him down, and making him cry. Said little boy then made fun of him and said, "You said you're a blue belt in TaeKwon-Do? Punch me back then! I dare you!!"
Justin didn't hit back. He went to the teacher and told her what had happened, and then after class he went to the kid's father and did the same.
You'd have to see Justin next to this kid to understand why this was impressive. Never mind the blue belt aspect of things; Justin's huge. He could probably eat the other kid as an after dinner mint. But a very, very big part of TaeKwon-Do involves learning and internalizing the lesson that violence is never to be used except as a very last resort. I'm so incredibly proud of him for getting it.
Daniel, on the other hand, had a great Spanish class. He's the smallest, newest, and least proficient kid in his Spanish class (he just moved up to the class this September; I really didn't think he was ready), and he often feels out of his element. A few weeks ago the kids were asked to do projects on Spanish-speaking countries. Daniel got Chile. He was working with another kid, who did half the research and translated their work to Spanish. The teacher was impressed as all hell, and told the class that the work Daniel and his partner did was what they should all be aspiring to.
I was particularly thrilled for him because we'd just gone to see a social worker who works with kids with social difficulties and he'd said something about Spanish class that left me shaking my head at my own cluelessness. Daniel had told him he was looking forward to being part of a social skills group, but said, "But don't make me the odd man out, OK?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, I'm usually one of the odd kids, and that's OK, because I usually have one friend, but in some places like in Spanish class I'm really the odd one out, because I don't have any friends and my brother isn't there. And I'm the youngest one there and I'm not very good at Spanish."
"And it must be difficult, too," said the social worker, who had been informed of Daniel's off-the-charts verbal skills scores, "because, being a wordsmith, not being able to express yourself easily must make it really tough for you. Right?"
Um, yeah. Daniel beamed at him, pleased to be so well understood, and I mentally slammed my head against the table. I know Daniel's good with words. I know how much he revels in that. And while I'd worried that he'd feel a bit out of things in advanced Spanish class because of his skill level, it hadn't occurred to me that he'd feel any more out of it than he'd feel if he was put into a swimming class where he wasn't terribly skilled. Or soccer. Or anything like that.
ACK! ( Aside, not Daniel-related )
Anyway. He was so pleased with himself. He'd worked really hard on the assignment, and it was so wonderful to see his hard work pay off, especially in an area he'd been struggling with so much. Particularly because he hadn't complained about it, at all. He'd just done the work he needed to do, dealt with his feelings of inferiority and isolation, and succeeded far beyond his own expectations.
Kids. They can piss you off more than anybody in the world, and then turn around and leave you totally breathless with pride.
