Cruel
Posted on November 16, 2008
Filed Under Anxiety, kids, parenting | 7 Comments
As parents of elementary aged children, as former second grader ourselves, we all know that second grade homework can be a bitch.
We’ve been there, hunched over our spelling lists, sputtering and wiping away tears as we try, try, try to remember that “grage” is actually spelled g-a-r-a-g-e. Or that “cercos” is, for some inexplicable reason, spelled c-i-r-c-u-s. The English language is cruel. Mrs. McLaughlin of the second grade is cruel. Spelling tests on Friday are cruel and but not unusual punishment and still, even though I graduated from second grade, and I am the mother of an older child that has already been through the rigors of the curriculum, I managed to forget that G needed to prepare for a Friday morning spelling test until well after 8 p.m. Thursday night.
I did a mock test in preparation and discovered that G was not able to spell more than half the list correctly. And so, being type-A and academically driven, I settled in to the task of helping her master the information. I put pencil and paper in front of her seven year old nose and I said, “”Write it again, three times, say it aloud while you spell it, hear the letters as you put them on the page.” She diligently penciled in the words, writing them the correct way over and over. And then I’d remove the spelling list and test her again and she’d make the same errors. I pushed and I pushed and I pushed her to the point of breaking. I was relentless and it was nine o’clock and I clutched her little body in a grip of frustration and I squeezed, just a little too hard and whispered through clenched teeth, “Why can’t you just get this?” I was tired. I’d been managing homework, G’s or her brother’s, since 3:30 p.m. with only an hour’s break for dinner. I was exhausted and depleted and sick of spelling ‘kingdom’ and ‘elevator’ and ‘bridge’.
I wanted to go bed. I wanted children who were self motivated and remembered their own spelling tests long before their mother insisted they study. I wanted something, anything to be easy. And because of my fatigue and frustration, I crumbled. My lack of control made my G feel terrible about her spelling difficulties and she cried and cried her way through another twenty minutes of drilling for Friday’s test before excusing herself and retreating to her bed where, I’m sure, she suffered anxiety dreams about mis-spelled words and her nasty mother and a stern teacher and a conflagration of shame and frustration. And I went to bed shamefaced and chagrined where I deservedly tossed and turned, wrestling with insomnia and the truth about my parenting limitations and I fervently hoped that in the morning she would wake and forgive me my insensitivity.
She was quiet the next morning – reserved and sulking. I sent her off to school that way, not knowing how to make it up to her. She’s can be tough and brooding. She knows how to hold a grudge. She’s now dedicated to making me work for her forgiveness, not knowing just how intensely I feel my own failures, just how badly I wish I could take it back. I can only hope we can mend before Monday when she will return to school and receive a new list of spelling words – a chance to handle things differently or another debacle. Here’s hoping for the former.
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