I Don’t Need You Anymore

My husband and I have a different approach to many things.   Lately, my husband has been helping my daughter with her school work during the first days of remote learning since my daughter's very long break was over at the end of January.   This past week I was coming up, trying to take over, only to get taken away by something else.   When I did take over, I discovered some very interesting things. 

First, my daughter didn't remember how to mute and unmute herself.   This was odd, she knew the keyboard.  She knew where Ctrl and D were.   And yet she said it didn't work for her.   There were some problems such as we were trying to make it easier for her with a mouse perfectly positioned or the space bar but all the things we tried didn't always work.   By the time we figured that out, my daughter had lost confidence in her ability to unmute and mute. 

You don't want to be unmuted when you think you're muted.   Or be trying to answer the teacher's question only to have her say, "you're still muted" in front of the whole class.  So my daughter didn't want to do it.   By the time I got upstairs and worked with her for a few hours I was run ragged hopping up and down to mute and unmute.   It was a lot because the children contribute regularly to each class.   

I told my husband, in front of my daughter, that she could very well press the same unmute keys we were, she just wanted us to do it for her.   And I wasn't going to do it anymore.   I was baiting her.   She protested she didn't know where the keys were.   I told her I'd let her try and if she didn't get it, I would come over and show her where the keys were again.   

She did have a little issue with the external keyboard, but that took two examples to set her straight.   I said no, I wasn't going to help—and then she started to do what all her friends had been doing.   What she could have been doing all along.  

Today, I was in the room about to relieve my husband.   My daughter started doing some work after the class meeting was over.   She asked, "how do you spell..." and then "what was the name of..." and three or four more questions like that.   My husband and even I answered them.   And then I thought out loud to my husband, "what do the other children in the class do?  They don't have a parent sitting beside them spelling words for them.  What do they do?"

There was a discussion that included my daughter and the answer was: if you don't know the answer, do your best and then ask the teacher when class starts back.   If you have the ability to find the answer, then find it.   

She was asking us how to spell things and the name of things and other questions like that because she didn't want to go back and reread—which was what the students should have been doing to practice their reading.  We weren't helping her, we were hindering her and making her feel dependent on us in the process.  

My husband left and my daughter called out to me ten minutes later, "Mom, how do you ..." something or other.   I can't remember the question.   I answered, "I'll be there in a few minutes."   I watched her go back to the material, read for a few seconds and then say, "never mind, I don't need you anymore." 

Good.   That's what I want.   That's what she needs.   She will need as much independence and confidence as she can get.

The Big Boy Update:  I played Minecraft tonight with my son for a while.  This was part of his birthday present to me: me playing Minecraft with him so we could do something special together.   It was nice.   Although he did set me on fire twice.   

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  My daughter wants to die her hair blue.   Definitely blue.   I am to contact Sue and make an appointment.   Wash out over time.  But blue.   Most definitely blue.