Eighteen months of online cello lessons and my daughter was going to call it quits—for real this time. This wasn’t the way music was supposed to be. And although she had a few outdoor lessons in the park with her instructor, she put her instrument down and opted for more social and outdoor stuff. But a summer rolled by and as things returned to pre-pandemic levels with in-person learning and gatherings, she had new hope. She started at a brand-new grade at a brand-new middle school. Resumption of all things was novel, familiar and much needed. She picked up her cello again. It felt familiar. It reminded her of her music. Her group. Her friends. What she also realized was that after a few rusty pieces, she picked up right where she left off. But the next book was much more difficult. In fact, her first cello lesson in the new year was a tortuous one!
After the hiatus, competitive swimming saw all the kids take to the water like penguins. But during the first practice session, my daughter had to call time and exit the pool due to cramps and muscle spasms. She felt sluggish. She thought she was going to sink to the bottom and drown. A 2k swim never used to feel this tiring.
“No, it doesn’t get any easier,” I answered. “But you do get better.” Whether it is cello’s fine motor skills like shifting on the fingerboard or swimming kicks using a flutter board, it’s all muscle memory. She’s way past the basics, now. If they were to quit, they would have done it long ago. And ironically, the more advance they were prior to the pause of the event, the quicker they can bounce back. The activity didn’t get any easier. In fact, it appears it has gotten harder. They recover quickly and exceed prior achievements. Admittedly, it’s also infinitely easier to push (encourage) kids at this level. You are no longer their rocket fuel; they operate on their own power.
Solving their problems will only postpone their realization that they weren’t taught because someone thought they weren’t ready.
It was the same thing at the new middle school. She was caught off guard by the weekly assignments and daily assessments. She wasn’t even graded before Grade 7! And now she’s not doing as well as she had thought. Does it get any easier? “You don’t want easy,” I said. “You want a challenge.” My daughter agreed. Struggles allow her to think of new paths forward. It prompts her to strategize. And she learns that success and failure is totally a consequence of her choices.
Two additional things also happen when kids are left to stand for themselves. Their age-appropriate hardships and failures become teaching moments. Whatever situation they found themselves in, and however they got there, their way out is in their hands. They also realize that blaming others is far less effective an approach and often, not a real excuse for poor effort. My daughter did poorly in a math test. She could have blamed the teacher for not explaining it. But it was far more valuable to ask the teacher where she loss the points.
Often, we parents tend to plow obstacles away from our children so they grow up conflict free and their journey frictionless. I think this approach can do more harm than good. Fish does not swim in distilled waters and without struggle, there is no growth. Solving their problems will only postpone their realization that they weren’t taught because someone thought they weren’t ready. It’s not about achieving a highest outcome; it’s about knowing how to get there repeatedly. The former is static; the latter is movement. Things will get harder, not easier. And you wouldn’t want it any other way. Neither would she.
