The X Factor

I'm so glad we've invested
in a math tutor for Jibby.

John Robert has a math tutor for algebra. He is happy with her and learning a lot. I am grateful. He is getting the guidance and instruction that he needs at this time, and I am free to admit that algebra is confusing and uninteresting to me.

If I made a list of all of my accomplishments and skills, it might look pretty good. If I made a list of all the things I have not accomplished or cannot do, the list would be much longer and might look pretty bad:

Cannot speak a foreign language
Have not traveled the world
Not a good financial manager
Cannot cook very well
Have never taken a physics class
Don't like or do well in Algebra
Had to change my major because I couldn't pass organic chemistry
Can barely start my car, much less change the oil.

As an adult, I tend to focus on what I CAN do. I don't judge myself by the Cannot/Have Not list.

But as a parent, I often make the mistake of focusing on the "have nots" and "cannots" of my children, as if I had the power to identify their failures and fill in their gaps until they are perfectly full and well rounded.

I certainly would not appreciate it if someone tried to do this for me:
"Kim, I see that you don't know anything about physics, and you cannot speak a foreign language despite years of French classes; so we're going to devote several hours a week to filling in those gaps in order to make you a more well rounded person."
I would hate that!

Why then do so many of us parents and teachers approach our children and students in this way?

Maybe it is a misguided effect of loving them so much and wanting them to have a "perfect" life as we imagine it. Maybe it is the effect of living from a place of fear-- always focusing on "What is wrong."

But could such thinking have the effect of teaching children to always look for the holes in life instead of celebrating the overall beauty of their lives and their talents? Doesn't such an attitude teach people to view themselves as incomplete?

Maybe supporting Jibby's affinity for math is more important than bemoaning his atrocious spelling and indifferent performance in essay writing. Maybe even if I really want him to fill in a gap, he should be the one to choose to do it-- and then I can support him.

But that's an easy one. What about a ten year old who doesn't want to do any math or a six year old who doesn't want to write? When does a gap become a dangerous chasm?

It looks like algebra might come in handy right now: Let X=the precise pressure that will assist in a child's learning without pushing him too hard. Oh, wait! I think that would be a physics question!

The X Factor: A delicate balance
of patience, trust, and encouragement.