As a parent, the first thing you want is to protect your child from getting hurt. It’s a lot easier when they’re younger. “Don’t hit your head!”“Watch the step!”“Pay attention!”We constantly monitor our babies and toddlers to ensure safety and a minimum of painful experiences. But it gets harder as they age. That old “bigger kids, bigger problems” adage holds true in my universe.
So last year when my 13-year-old son, Levi, entered public middle school, I was petrified at how he would fare. Would the kids be kind? Would he make friends? Would he find his niche? I worried about everything from who he would sit with at lunch to how he would navigate such a large campus. I didn’t expect my bold, fearless boy to run for every single office he could think of since he didn’t know a single soul at his huge new middle school. I worked hard at being cautiously optimistic about his political ambitions.
“You know,” I warned on more than one occasion, “Running for Student Council in middle school is sort of like a popularity contest. Since you don’t know ANYONE, it might not be that realistic to expect a victory.” “But I’d be a great … vice president of the Student Council, secretary for the Builders Club, class representative …” The list went on as each day brought another defeat and another new opportunity with a new organization. By mid-October, Levi was disheartened and I couldn’t exactly blame him. The year went on and Levi showed his new teachers and classmates that he was reliable, smart, funny and 100% committed to every task he undertook. But I have to admit when he announced his plans to run for president of the National Junior Honors Society, PR director of Student Council and president of Builders Club again this year, I felt that old familiar lump start to form in the back of my throat. “I can win this year, Mom,” he told me with confidence. “I’m perfect for all of these jobs.”
I wanted to slow him down, pull back on the reins, inject some past reality into his passionate momentum. But instead I helped him with a few pointers on his speech and stayed up late one night creating his campaign posters. Somewhere inside I knew that win or lose, these were the experiences that build character and define people for who they would be and how they would ultimately face life’s challenges as adults.
“I got a standing ovation, Mom” Levi boasted after school the day of the NJHS elections. “A standing ovation!” “Really?” I asked with trepidation. “Did everyone get a stand- ing ovation?” “No! I was the only one,” he crowed. “Was everyone getting up to catch the bus?” I countered. “Mom, that is soooooo mean. What is wrong with you?” he chastised. “They loved my speech. Everyone else got up and read … like essays. I just spoke from my heart about what I wanted to do and how I wanted to guide everyone to be a leader in their own right.”
I had to admit, that sounded pretty impressive. But the fear of him being disappointed yet again was almost too much for me to bear. “Listen, Levi, I’m proud of you for running. I think you’re amazing! I just know that sometimes these things don’t work out the way they should.” “Whatever,” he walked away dejectedly. “But I’m going to win this time. You’ll see.”
The next morning we didn’t exchange a word about the election. When he was leaving for the bus, I casually asked him to text me if he found out anything. “Will do,” he chirped cheerfully.
At 11:30 that morning, I received the following text: “I am NJHS president!” It was one of the most uplifting moments of my life. There’s nothing like watching your child venture into uncertainty and risk and emerge with his fearlessness, strength and pride still intact.
Debra Rich Gettleman is a mother and blogger based in the Phoenix area. For more of her work, visit unmotherlyinsights.com.
