Lessons from Luc

While pregnant, I imagined how much I'd learn from Luc about learning itself. I thought that it would be fascinating to observe his attempts to walk, talk, read, and ride a bike. I imagined our home as a kind of learning lab where Chris and I would formulate theories of language acquisition. What I hadn't anticipated was how I'd absorb Luc into my own identity. I couldn't maintain enough objectivity with Luc to adequately assess the process. His success or failure was a reflection of my own strengths or weaknesses. I was so anxious for him to reach certain milestones that I couldn't enjoy the process of learning from his learning in the way that I wanted to. Intellectually, I understood that all children have their own timelines, but emotionally I felt that any developmental delays would be due to my mistakes.

Now that Luc has begun to to take standardized tests and receive progress reports which are more than smile sheets, I need to constantly tell myself that his success or failures are his, not mine. Otherwise I find myself feeling all the pressure I did as a child and venting it at Luc. At the same time as I want Luc to have a work ethic and succeed in all that he does, I don't want him to feel the same inner pressures from the stern internal judge that I've lived with during my life.

Though it may be the case that our home never become a learning lab, I learn from Luc in ways that continue to surprise me. The same closeness that blocked my attempts to learn about an abstract process like language acquisition has led to opportunities for self knowledge. A few years ago, Luc responded to his inability to accomplish a minor task by repeating over and over, "I hate myself. I'm so stupid. I'm an idiot." When I heard him, I was stunned because I was listening to a recording that had been playing in my mind for decades. I realized that if I didn't silence that voice in my own head, my son would hear the same words which had haunted me for the rest of his life.

Yesterday I reviewed Luc's latest progress report. It was good but not perfect. When I questioned him about why he needed to improve in two areas, I could hear the tone of the stern judge creep into my voice. I pushed it down and I think it was okay. And once I was able to do that, I could treat the report as the learning opportunity it was intended to be.

When I checked with Luc's teacher about why he seemed to have some issues working with others, I was reminded of how our strengths can so easily turn into our weaknesses. Luc's expressiveness, which manifests itself in many positive ways, also leads to a tendency to complain. And I know he'll learn to temper that strength. And rather than learn about learning itself from Luc, I have learned and I'll continue to learn about myself.

Chuck E. Cheese: The Tenth Circle of Hell

When Luc was younger, his daycare provider would take him along with his buddies to Chuck E. Cheese on his birthday. It was great for everyone concerned. The kids had a blast. Kate could rest assured they were safe and stimulated. And, best of all for me, I didn't have to go. If I had realized that Chuck E. Cheese would be considered a tradition, I might not have been so enthusiastic about all those outings because two years ago the cheese was passed to us. It is now Chris and I who have to enter the Inferno with a manic Luc.

We didn't have Chuck E. Cheese when I was a child, but Chris assures me that we both would have loved it. He reminded me of how much it was like a carnival but with security measures in place. And we do see smiling parents who seem to be reliving past birthday glory. But at this point, I'm way too old to remember a time when flashing lights, a giant Rat, loud covers of bad pop songs sung by Chuck E. Cheese mechanical children, carnival games, mediocre overpriced food and cheap toys could take me to Paradise

Wanting to get the dreaded trip out of the way, we went to Chuck E. Cheese after spending the morning playing as a family in an Improv class at the Guthrie. In retrospect, making the trip on a winter Saturday afternoon was a pretty poor decision. No sooner had we walked through the door our creative buzz dissipate. Immediately, we were pulled into a birthday party factory where kids were encouraged to be as greedy as possible. I think for many kids playing games wasn't nearly as motivating as obtaining tickets. The more tickets they possessed, the greater the chance that they could select a truly awesome trinket
such as a plastic wristwatch or a rubber snake.

About an hour into our journey, I had the overwhelming desire to dig my fingers into my ears and tear out each cochlea. But I looked around me at all the diligent parents working to make their children happy. If I forced Luc to leave before he could exhaust his greed, overwhelm his senses and tap into his bloodlust, I would be relegated to the circle of hell reserved for bad moms. (Though I probably have made enough bad decisions already to assure my place there)

When Luc finally released us from our torments and agreed to claim his prize and go, he smiled and said, "This was heaven. I can't wait until next year. " As the employee used her scanner to ensure that what I'm sure was a 666 branded on our hands was still there, Chris and I just looked at each other and hung our heads.