NERVES

Nerves: firmness or courage under trying circumstances: an assignment requiring nerve; strength, vigor, or energy: a test of nerve and stamina; nerves, nervousness: an attack of nerves.

Basically nerves can be tested when one is "brave" and again when one is "chicken". One would think a child would be the latter and an adult the former; not so much the case in my house today. Can I just say--I have the most ridiculously all-around great kids ever. Yes, they drive me in sane at times, try my patience, frustrate the heck out of me...but all in all they are really quite extraordinary. Today, one in particular showed remarkable composure and confidence. Who knew at 12 you could act like THAT?!

Today, Tuesday, January 4, 2011 my 12 year old daughter did one of the things that I have always felt was one of the single most difficult acts for a child to make--the act of trust. Not for all children mind you, and certainly not for younger children. They will trust you if you tell them the bug they just caught is very yummy. But for a 12 1/2 year old girl, who's had three older siblings, been immersed in adult conversation and lifestyle and has a pretty sharp brain, sometimes "trust" is a difficult thing.

A bit of history before I continue: My oldest child started formal public school in 1991. Kindergarten. We were in a terrible school district and decided it was imperative that we move before our children grew much older. Mid-school year in November of 1992 we did just that. We took our oldest son out of the environment he was familiar with and plopped him in a setting that we promised him would be far more advantageous for his life-long goals. He was 7 years old. A wise 7, but nonetheless still only 7. Christmas break came around in our new neighborhood. By then he had a 3-year old sister and a new baby brother, both whom he adored. We had a wonderful Christmas break in our new home and enjoyed each other's company to the fullest. Break was over, time for school to start up again.

The night before school was set to begin, while pressing that perfect crease in my 7-year old son's blue and white striped train engineer OshKosh overalls, he came into the room and announced that he didn't want to return to THAT school the next day. What? This was my child who LOVED school. This was the boy that LOVED learning. This could not be happening. There must be something else...

"What do you mean you don't want to go back to school?"

"I don't want to go to that school tomorrow"

"Why?"

"I don't like it at all. It's terrible"

"What makes it terrible?"

"Everything. The kids and the teacher and everything"

"Well, you are going to have to be a bit more specific for me to understand"

"The kids stand on the desks in the back and talk and are distracting. The teacher yells and gets upset. I can't concentrate to do my work and it's not fun and I don't like all the yelling"

(Thinking to myself that he had some very well-warranted points here, I was at a loss as to which "parent" card out of my hand should be played next...)

"Well, you know you can't just not go to school. They throw you in jail for that"

"They do?"

(Trust in my position on education was pivotal at this point as I could hear the teetering in his question--he could be tipped on either side of the proverbial "education is imperative" fence)

"Well, yeah. Or maybe they just throw me in jail for not sending you to school. But someone goes to jail"

At this point "nerve" came in to this picture. My 7 year old wanted to have nerve, he wanted to be brave. What he really wanted was to enjoy school again. He was (and continues to be!) a really bright kid. And, deep down he knew not to buy this "jail card" thing from mom...not one bit. I could see the doubt in his belief that there would soon be any of our grim faces printed on "WANTED" posters around town. But I could also see his defeat and his last bit of "please don't let me go down like this" braveness start to expel out of him as his eyes welled up with tears.

"Now wait a minute here"

"what?"

"I think we can work this out"

"how?"

"Well, it sounds like I need to go in and talk to the teacher or the principal if there is so much disruption in your classroom that you can't think in first grade"

"I don't want to get in trouble"

"You will not get in trouble"

"How do you know?"

"I know because if you get in trouble for doing what's right, someone else is going to get in trouble for doing what's wrong"

"by who?"

"By me"

"Really?"

"Really."

NOW we had re-established the Trust, some Nerve...some Real Nerve. Now even HE knew he could count on action. He hadn't lived with me for 7 long years for nothing.

So I did what I said I would do. And things worked out. And 12 years later he graduated from that same school system as an Honor Student with great promise ahead of him.

In the meantime, he'd acquired yet another baby sister. For some perspective: On the morning we left to take that then 19-yr old son to his first year of out-of-state college, we first made a quick stop to drop off his "new" baby sister for her first day of kindergarten. That sister grew up with three older siblings all with the same last name, all from the same house and neighborhood, and all with great diligence, attitude and pride that helped them make their way and forge a path through this particular public school system. So, like her siblings before her, in the Summer of 2004, she was set on a course to do the same...at the same place and with all the people she'd grown up knowing and who knew her and her family as well. She would become a Union Redskin.

Things change though. People change. Circumstances change. School systems change. Priorities change. My 12 year old daughter got caught in the middle of many of those changes.

Fortunately my 12 year old daughter is also the one child of our four who is most "flexible". She has always been on the flexi-plan at our house, being dragged from one event to another. Counting on one thing to happen and then changing courses for a new and different plan. She is hailed as the easy going child in the family. Nerves, braveness and trust being her unknowingly strong traits that keep her nature so easy...most of the time.

However, when a young girl is confident because she's been told over and over by all her family, all her friends, all the people who know her and her family (and even many who don't) how great and smart and wonderful she is, she never really gets to test that confidence. Today her confidence was tested and perhaps in a way that was quite startling not only to her, but to me as well.

Over the last couple years we'd decided that the school system all of our kids had attended all these years was no longer meeting our standards. Our 12 year old, being the bonus baby in the family, would soon be hitting some important educational years and this was not where she would benefit most. Slowly, plans were put into place to make a change. She was made aware of the long-term plan and was aware that, like always, even that could change. And it did--quite suddenly. In the middle of her 6th grade year, an opportunity was presented to us and a quick decision had to be made. We decided to move. Move to another neighborhood and move to another school. She would no longer be a Union Redskin.

I did my best to prepare her for the changes she would soon face. We went and visited the new school. We talked with people who went there. We drove around the neighborhood. We researched available opportunities the new school system provided. We purchased new Bixby Spartan wear. It all seemed exciting and she knew it would be difficult to leave her friends, but she seemed open to new experiences as well. She would be facing some of the same challenges her older brother had. She would have to adjust to new routines, new friends, new teachers and new ways of doing things. She would be fine.

Thinking about change, considering change, but then having it slap you right smack in the face in a matter of a few seconds are two different things.

Today was the first day for her to attend her new school. Clearly, I was the more nervous of the two of us. We had gone through all the paperwork hoops appropriately, we had purchased the necessary supplies, checked into lunch routines and knew about "going back" to a school that provided recess time again. What we hadn't done, is talk and think and imagine that one moment in time when a door would be opened for her, she would be nudged through that doorway, into a room of twenty-two 12 year old strangers with forty-four eyes looking right at you wondering who the heck the "new girl" was...while your mom stood in the hallway behind you with a sick little "mom smile" on her face. You know--the kind of smile that says, "oh my God, I can't believe I am standing here watching you go through this". The kind of smile that really means, "no, no come back here---we'll figure something else out". The kind of smile that says, "let me go in there and be stared at. You stay here." The kind of smile that says, "Dear God, please let them be kind to her, please let them love her like I do, please let them instantly know what a magnificent girl she is". That kind of smile.

She really was quite literally shoved into Mr. So and So's room in the middle of a sentence the counselor was speaking to us while we were touring what would soon be my 12 year old's new "hallway". The counselor quickly opened the door, introduced Mr. So and So to her and pushed her in. No "bye". No "see you after school". No "your day will be great". And as I stood there I saw what my 12 year old saw. I saw all those strange faces looking at her/me wondering... I saw her face go flush with redness. I sensed her hesitation. I saw her look to the new Mr. So and So teacher for seating direction. I saw her nerve wane. I saw her braveness be tested. I felt her trust teeter. And I turned and walked away unable to stop my tears while the counselor assured me she'd be alright, even though it's hard the first day or so.

All the way home I cried. I wanted to know if we'd done the right thing. I wanted to know if she would be ok. I wanted to know if she would hate the new school. I wanted to know if she would eventually declare her resistance like her older brother. What I really wanted was for her to still be little. What I really wanted was for her to be able to stay with me. What I really wanted was for her to not have to have nerves or be brave or trust. What I really wanted was for me to have nerve, and to be brave and to trust.

She did an incredible job today. I will never, ever forget that moment. I will never, ever forget that vision of exactly where she was standing and exactly what her face looked like and exactly how uncomfortable, and scared and helpless she felt. I will never forget feeling those same feelings right along with her ten times over that very moment.

I'm nineteen years older than I was when my 7 year old son learned he could count on the fact that I would always act on his behalf. I would always be there to encourage him to trust, to be brave and to have nerve. Nineteen years later, my 12-year old daughter somehow knew that she could count on the fact that I would always act on her behalf. She knew I would encourage her to trust, to be brave and to have nerve.

But I am so thankful she didn't turn around and see me or tell me bye before entering that classroom today.

Because she would have seen a mom who had doubt and fear and was a big "chicken". She would have seen me scurry down the hallway into the stairwell in tears. And she would have seen and likely not understood that I was counting on her action this time.

Today, at that moment that daughter became my encouragement and my most shining example for how I should trust, and be brave and and have nerve...like my most amazing 12-year old.