My daughter is in 2nd grade. She has a spelling test consisting of about 15 words each week. The teacher gives a pre-test on Wednesday s. If the student gets 100%, there is no second test. If they miss even one, they must take the test again on Friday. Our way of training Melissa has been to have her write each word twice. We dictate the words, she writes them. Afterwards, we review her work. Any misspelled or sloppily written words are rewritten three times. It’s why she’s batting .1000 in spelling.
This week, Melissa misspelled one word in the pre-test. I beat her with a rubber hose. Just kidding. I did, however, tell her we would do each word once. She wasn’t happy about it so she decided to skip ahead and work from memory instead of writing the words as I recited them. I made her start with a fresh sheet of paper and write each word twice. About six words into it, she again decided to go out on her own. I made her start with yet another fresh sheet of paper and write each word three times. I then warned her that if she did it again, I would have her write each word five times and we would stay up all night if necessary until she learned to follow my directions.
Melissa is a very bright kid. She is capable of great things. Sometimes, smart kids are the hard ones to manage because they get bored and they want to go out on their own, ahead of the teacher or the parent. I know, because I did the same thing at her age. Yes, in case you’re wondering, I used to be bright. The trouble was, my parents didn’t know exactly how to keep me in line. It wasn’t their fault, they just didn’t know.
I tend to be soft on my kids, but I am realizing that I am doing them no favors. I don’t need to be their best friend. They will have thousands of friends. They only have one father, and I have to make sure that that means something. Melissa was upset at my sternness, and part of me felt bad and wanted to ease up. I bit my tongue and stayed the course, almost afraid she would end up mad at me. When she finally finished the homework assignment, she went to play with George (our rabbit – yes, a rabbit. My house is turning into a zoo!) She then took a shower before going to sleep. She was completely fine, joking with me as she always does. She insisted on two good night kisses and asked for a glass of water. She told me she loved me and she went to bed. Good night, sweet angel.
The point is my relationship with my daughter was not damaged. She loves me as much as she would have if I had allowed her to skip homework and watch TV, but the love is being deposited in an interest-bearing account of sorts. Because I am being a father and not a buddy, she will love me more when she grows up. She will appreciate me more, and she will know that I was a part of the success I know she will ultimately achieve.
- Adolfo
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