I think I have an "O Captain! My Captain!" complex. Much in the way that repeated viewings of Grease as a child led me to believe all problems can be solved with singing and group choreography, seeing Dead Poet's Society early in my post-secondary educational tenure led me to believe that all interactions with children and/or students should be inspirational and life-changing. While I should have been disabused of this notion after teaching 12 weeks at a local business college (where I did have one student tell me my class inspired him to start writing poetry; but I also had about three students that probably wanted to shiv me in the parking lot), I was not.
Because I've had people in my life--aside from my own parents--who have had a tremendous impact on me. I have always hoped I could make a similar impact on someone else someday (preferably an entire classroom of people, who would stand on their desks and call out "O Captain! My Captain!" to me as I'm being escorted away because of my maverick teaching style. Plus, it's a poem about Abraham Lincoln, and don't he and I belong in an analogy together?).
I have visions of grandeur, but my heart is in the right place.
This weekend was my first official outing with my Little Sister. I tend to fancy myself as being good with kids--I've got three younger siblings, have been babysitting since I was 10, and am auntie-extraordinaire to my 6-year-old niece and various children of friends. My Little Sis is 8 (she'll be 9 on Tuesday), which is the age I requested because I thought I would have good relating skills to that age group. Like, I know who Hannah Montana is. Stuff like that.
We went to the park (actually, two parks: the first one, by Deep Eddy pool, didn't offer a lot of equipment to play on). And then I accidentally took her to a dog park, only to find out that she's deathly afraid of dogs. Oops.
And it was suddenly like: what do 8-year-olds like to do? Is the park too babyish? Is she having fun? I tell you, I was all thumbs. I was disappointed in myself for planning such a poor outing. I felt like I didn't have enough (or the right) plan Bs.
So, when I was driving her home, I asked, "Fun or not fun?" I was expecting a non-committal "fun," or maybe a long pause followed by "eh." But instead she yelled, "Fun!" With an exclamation point! And I realized: I am overthinking this. I need perspective. The point is to spend time together, not orchestrate bells and whistles and grandiose activities every week.
It is me who will be standing on my desk shouting "O Captain! My Captain!" before this is all over.
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1 comment:
it's true. i was able to convince my brother to eat dog food around that age. so it's certainly not as demanding as planning a date. i saw good job! plus, it was your first time out. i'm sure the fabulosity will only increase.
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