Growing up I remember reading the Mad Comic book “Cradle to Grave Primer” by Larry Siegel., a satirical American series that was often politically incorrect and racy by even today’s standards. The premise was simple but entertaining: A man recounts his life, from—what else—cradle to grave. It was a humorous look at how he developed into an awkward, gawky, nerdy teenager, unpopular with other kids; finally settling down and having a son of his own. His son, of course, was his antithesis. Popular, good looking, successful.
And the thing is I realize I am remembering this book because I can relate. To the awkward, nerdy part. For as early as I can remember I lacked confidence. In everything. I dreaded gym class because I was almost always the last one picked, which was for good reason. I lacked coordination in all things sports. I never took gymnastics, dance, soccer, softball. Unfortunately, I did not make up for academically. I was not even a particularly brilliant student making mainly B’s. I did try to play the guitar once but found myself hopelessly unable to learn the simplest of songs and quit after a matter of weeks. The only thing I was remotely good at was bowling. I stayed on a league for a few years and won many team and individual trophies. I also twirled a mean baton. Did I stay with either of those into my mid teens? You would think so, but sadly, no. What I lacked in talent, I did not make up in physical beauty. I was short, skinny, and developed very late in my teens. Even though I had a great childhood in many respects, I would never want to go back and live them again. My parents encouraged me to go after my dreams and try new things. My regret is that I didn’t take those opportunities and make the most of them.
As life imitates art, or in this case, a book—I have an overachieving son. In a totally great way. He is proof that sometimes recessive genes are more dominant. He plays the piano, the violin, and for the last year and half, the cello. He is an ‘ear player’ with music, which makes him a gifted player. His strings teacher recognized this natural ability and asked him to join her Honors and High Honors Orchestra groups, which met two mornings a week.
At church he volunteered to be part of a small core of kids who learned a Sticks routine. It’s a choreographed routine while holding sticks, much like a drumstick, set to music. After they learned this routine, they performed it twice in front of parents and other students. When he had the opportunity to take this class again, he did. This time, the kids performed in front of the church. Currently, he is learning sign language. He challenges himself time and time again.
Most recently, he’s moved into competitive gymnastics, competing for the first time in January. He even volunteered to go first on his team on all the equipment. I would not have won any parenting awards in the weeks, days and hours leading up to his meet. Rather than encouraging him on what a great time he’ll have and how great he’ll do, I prepared him for coming home without a trophy or medal. Apparently I forgot this was my successful, overachieving, confident son I was talking to. He showed me by bringing home three individual medals out of six events, with their team taking 2nd place overall. In his third championship meet just this weekend, he placed in the top four in all six events (earning a medal in each category): floor, vault, pommel horse, rings, parallel bars and high bar. He placed second overall, earning his first trophy.
Academically, he is a consistent B student. Occasionally, he earns an A but overall he is still an above average student. He is studious and considered a role model by his teacher. Even though school does not come naturally--he does need to work for his grades--he has a great attitude and a model student. What more can a parent ask for?
The fact is that I in awe of the confidence that he has in what I think are scary situations. And I wish I had half or even a quarter of his successes growing up. With all things being even, I am not sure why I was a quitter, while he is a joiner. Fortunately, he got the best of our traits, and forgot the rest. And for that, I am grateful.
And the thing is I realize I am remembering this book because I can relate. To the awkward, nerdy part. For as early as I can remember I lacked confidence. In everything. I dreaded gym class because I was almost always the last one picked, which was for good reason. I lacked coordination in all things sports. I never took gymnastics, dance, soccer, softball. Unfortunately, I did not make up for academically. I was not even a particularly brilliant student making mainly B’s. I did try to play the guitar once but found myself hopelessly unable to learn the simplest of songs and quit after a matter of weeks. The only thing I was remotely good at was bowling. I stayed on a league for a few years and won many team and individual trophies. I also twirled a mean baton. Did I stay with either of those into my mid teens? You would think so, but sadly, no. What I lacked in talent, I did not make up in physical beauty. I was short, skinny, and developed very late in my teens. Even though I had a great childhood in many respects, I would never want to go back and live them again. My parents encouraged me to go after my dreams and try new things. My regret is that I didn’t take those opportunities and make the most of them.
As life imitates art, or in this case, a book—I have an overachieving son. In a totally great way. He is proof that sometimes recessive genes are more dominant. He plays the piano, the violin, and for the last year and half, the cello. He is an ‘ear player’ with music, which makes him a gifted player. His strings teacher recognized this natural ability and asked him to join her Honors and High Honors Orchestra groups, which met two mornings a week.
At church he volunteered to be part of a small core of kids who learned a Sticks routine. It’s a choreographed routine while holding sticks, much like a drumstick, set to music. After they learned this routine, they performed it twice in front of parents and other students. When he had the opportunity to take this class again, he did. This time, the kids performed in front of the church. Currently, he is learning sign language. He challenges himself time and time again.
Most recently, he’s moved into competitive gymnastics, competing for the first time in January. He even volunteered to go first on his team on all the equipment. I would not have won any parenting awards in the weeks, days and hours leading up to his meet. Rather than encouraging him on what a great time he’ll have and how great he’ll do, I prepared him for coming home without a trophy or medal. Apparently I forgot this was my successful, overachieving, confident son I was talking to. He showed me by bringing home three individual medals out of six events, with their team taking 2nd place overall. In his third championship meet just this weekend, he placed in the top four in all six events (earning a medal in each category): floor, vault, pommel horse, rings, parallel bars and high bar. He placed second overall, earning his first trophy.
Academically, he is a consistent B student. Occasionally, he earns an A but overall he is still an above average student. He is studious and considered a role model by his teacher. Even though school does not come naturally--he does need to work for his grades--he has a great attitude and a model student. What more can a parent ask for?
The fact is that I in awe of the confidence that he has in what I think are scary situations. And I wish I had half or even a quarter of his successes growing up. With all things being even, I am not sure why I was a quitter, while he is a joiner. Fortunately, he got the best of our traits, and forgot the rest. And for that, I am grateful.
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