At my child’s school, except for the very youngest children,
all of the students have iPads. They leave them at school through fourth grade.
In fifth grade, they begin carrying their iPad with them to classes and home
and back. Once this begins, it is literally and figuratively in their hands. If
they drop it or lose it, they (or their parents) are responsible for repairing
or replacing it. They’re also responsible for remembering to save their work
frequently and to keep the device charged.
I was speaking with a friend the other day, the mother of a
fifth grade student, and I asked how things were going. She replied that the
night before, she was heading to bed and looked over and realized her child had
not plugged in their iPad to charge. Feeling conflicted about what to do, she
wavered between plugging it in and letting her child see that green bar and “100%”
battery status in the morning, or doing something that is just gut-wrenching
and incredibly hard – allowing her child to fail.
I won’t leave you hanging here. She confided in me that she
peeked at the battery status and saw that it was 80%. “Had it been close to running
out,” she said, “I probably would have plugged it in and let it charge and then
told her this morning what I’d done and remind her that she needs to be careful
about that.” Instead, my friend walked away. It was still near 80% in the
morning, and, when the child realized she’d forgotten to charge it, she was
horrified.
As my friend regaled me with this story, I thought to myself,
“how would I have handled this situation?” It’s true. We want our kids to not
just survive, but thrive. We want
them to not just succeed, but to exceed.
We push, push, push. We teach what we think the teacher hasn’t taught. We coach
from the sidelines.
There’s a fine line there between supporting them to excel and pushing them forcibly to
succeed. I hope, as I’m given
opportunities, that I’m supportive. No more. No less.
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