A Flash of Inspiration

During my eight years as a mother, I have occasionally run into issues with my boys that puzzle me, force me to do some pondering, make me seek advice (from Jeff, other family members, friends, and books), lead me to prayer, and then--eventually--I feel confident in my strategy for dealing with whatever the problem is. I said "occasionally," but that's not the best word. "Often" is a more accurate adverb for that sentence!

My latest dilemma occurred with David Dear. We signed him up for the library summer reading program; and although he could get all the prizes by me reading TO him, I knew that he could actually do the reading himself and earn the prizes by his own effort. So I've been regularly taking the time to sit down with him and listen to him read. He's doing incredibly well. I continue to be astonished by his reading ability, and he's not even officially in kindergarten yet! This child that I thought would be so difficult to teach to read has actually picked it up at a younger age than his (very smart) big brother. I'm so proud of him!

I know David is smart, but--here's the issue that was driving me bananas--sometimes he acts dumb. For example, a few weeks ago, he was reading one of the Cora Cow books, and the word "ski" showed up a lot in the book. I realize that "ski" might be a confusing word--that's to be expected--so I was glad to tell him what the word was. In addition to me telling him the word, there were pictures all through the book of people (and, of course, Cora Cow) skiing. To me, it was beyond obvious what was going on, and I thought there was no possible way that David could forget/not understand what the word "ski" was.

However, as we went through the book and got to the word "ski" again, David stopped and acted like he didn't know the word. He half-heartedly tried to sound it out, ended up saying "skate," and then insisted that he didn't remember what it was. I pointed to a pair of skis in one of the pictures and asked him what it was. He said he didn't know. I told him I thought he really did know what it was. He told him he didn't. I said it wasn't funny to pretend that he didn't know something when he really knew it. He claimed, in a very dramatic voice, that he did not know the word. At this point, I was about ready to blow my top since I was SURE that he really knew it and was just being stubborn. However, one thing I've learned in my 34 years of life is that dialogs such as these are entirely fruitless, so I did the only thing I could think to do: shut the book and said that reading time was over and that we could try again another time when he remembered what that word was! That didn't seem like the greatest way to handle it, but I was frustrated--so frustrated--more frustrated than the event warranted--frustrated by the way I was being sucked into a power struggle over whether he did or did not know the word "ski!" Of course, there's no way for me to peer inside his brain and say, "Aha! You DO know the word!" So it was a very silly argument, and I knew that and just sought to end it as quickly as I could.

That wasn't the first time that it had happened, by the way. During this past school year, when we were more consistently doing reading lessons together, David would do the same kind of thing; and it would frustrate me every time. I dealt with it with varying degrees of success, mostly related to my own personal behavior and how patient (or impatient) I happened to be at that particular moment. But I never felt like I had a good strategy for dealing with it.

After the "ski" incident, I realized out-of-the-blue (but, I believe, God-inspired) that an alternative way of dealing with such dilemmas would be to quickly, freely, without any pressure, tell him the word if he showed signs of hesitation. Today as he was reading, he stumbled over "here," so I didn't wait a long time or give him a hard time at all, but immediately told him what it was. Same with "find." Same with "come." The beauty of it is that it completely eliminates the possibility of it turning into a power struggle. If he really doesn't know the word, he's immediately helped by hearing it. If he really does know the word and is faking ignorance, hearing me say it takes the wind out of his sails. Regardless, the repetition of him seeing it, hearing me say it, then saying it himself is an effective way to learn.

I'm not worried that by me telling him the words, he'll never learn how to sound things out, because he's actually pretty skillful at that already.

I am delighted that such a simple technique is already making a big difference in that aspect of my relationship with him.

I am wondering why I didn't think of it long ago!!

I am grateful for the way God plants certain thoughts in my head as He teaches me how to be a mother.