I was (and still am) rather shocked when my first born didn’t pop out a carbon copy of me, but she is a talkative, confident red head. And then there’s little Beckett.
He’s not shy, but he is a bit reserved. Like he prefers to watch when the other kids in his kindergarten line are beating on each other with backpacks or yelling for someone to “RUN!!! to the line. He smiles and enjoys it all, but he’s not an instigator.
Incidentally, all year his teacher has been remarking about how much he spaces out in class. Yep. That’s my boy. He’s got both feet, and 95% of his brain firmly planted in his own world. And a colorful, exciting, hilarious, fantastic world it is. I ADORE being privy to his sound effects and extensive conversations, and usually he prefers to play by himself, with whatever guys he’s favoring at the moment.
I can set him up with a big fresh batch of play dough, and he will play the shit out of that stuff for hours. I want to wrap him up in his bubble so he can hold onto that forever. But then that would be creepy if he was doing this as a grown man, so I’ll deal.
Ironically, this is the issue that has pierced my laid-backness. I tend to not get worked up about much (except when people don’t put their grocery carts in the corrals) but stupid public stupid schools are making me crazy.
I’m seeing Beckett not reading at the same rate as most of his classmates, and how much concern that is causing in our highly competitive school system. He meets with a special reading teacher and 2 weeks ago he was even tested by a specialist. To look for a learning disorder? Autism? I’m still not sure what. She came back with the same conclusion: he’s dreamy.
He daydreams. He pauses before he answers a question because who-the-fuck-is-yanking-me-out-of-my-creative-daze to count backward from 20 yet again?
So I work with him to read like a good public school mom, and I try to make it as fun as I can, as I drill him again on his site words. We’ll use funny voices, and decide which words rhyme with potty words.
But most of the time I let him play. And hold onto his fabulous alternative worlds. And I crab at Christian about how a society that really seems to be embracing creativity can still manage to so effectively keep it out of the school systems.
I know soon enough he’ll be where is sister is, sitting in front of a computer, working through thousands of math problems so he can memorize how to find the area of a circle from the radius. So I’m protecting his creative dreaminess so fiercely right now, because I know in a few years, THIS is what will set him apart from the other students in a way that will help him so much more than math problems. He can look that up. He can’t look up how to how to use his imagination.