Today I made the exclamation, "Go to your room for 15 minutes and NO READING." That for Christian is the ultimate punishment. Four years ago I was convinced that this child was never, ever, ever going to learn to read. I was beyond frustrated. Aside from my gentle reminders, the poor boy didn't want to be bothered by actually LOOKING at the words before reading them. For him, reading was purely imagination. . . imagine the characters, imagine the adventure, and even imagine the words. I thought for sure he was doomed to be the only 10th grader still trying to work his way through the Dick and Jane reader.
Similarly, for TWO years we've been working with Hyrum on riding a bike. We've put on the training wheels. We've taken them off. We've talked about balance. We've had practice sessions. We've loaded the bike up and taken him to the land of flat smoothly paved bike riding paradise. We took off the pedals to encourage balance and gliding. We've coaxed and cheered. We've praised and praised and praised. We've encouraged and tried to make it fun. And then we gave up. I had finally decided that there were worse things in the world than a kid running after his three big brothers on bicycles. And that was that. Yes, he still rode his training wheeled bike around the cul-de-sac but the dream of balance all but disappeared.
Then last Wednesday while the training wheels were off (thanks Sam!) I suggested, "Hy, I'll give you ten jelly beans for ten minutes on the bike."
He looked at me, sat on the bike, pushed himself forward, placed his feet on the pedals, and rode down the driveway.
I have to learn this principle over and over and over again . .that
time and timing
are essential for learning and change.
I'm not one to compare my kids to others. . . I don't really care that Talmage isn't talking and that Warner stutters or that C&T are mediocre at sports. I don't care that my boys aren't in the gifted and talented program (well, I almost don't care . . . but that is just the Warner in me. . .but I've accepted it), and I don't mind that Sam, a very capable reader, simply doesn't enjoy reading. Then to my surprise, every now and then something screams for my attention, my worry, my wondering . . . and then I panic. I abandon what I know. . . that time and timing are everything. I try to analyze, and fix, and create the perfect plan for overcoming the obstacle. And does it work? Rarely. Most of the time I just complicate things for myself. I become TOO involved in something that I simply should not be trying to control, something that with time (and yes it may be weeks or months or years) and at the appropriate timing will resolve itself with the basic effort. Yes, a kid who never looks at the words on the page will one day grow up to be a voracious reader, another who cannot balance for one second will beg to go on his fifth bike ride of the morning, a boy who melts down and dives into arguments will learn how to control his behavior and allow logic to enter when frustrated. I need to trust more in what I know. . . that there is an unmeasurable benefit in the principle time and timing.
