By Scott Beller
Daddying Editor
If you could see what I see, you'd be blinded by the colors
Yellow, red, and orange, and green, and at least a million others
So tie up the bow, take off your coat, and take a look around
'Cause the sky has finally opened
The rain and wind stopped blowin'
But you're stuck out in the same ol' storm again
You hold tight to your umbrella
Well, darlin', I'm just tryin' to tell ya
That there's always been a rainbow hangin' over your head.
– Kacey Musgraves, Rainbow
We applied for Morgan to start a "young 2s" preschool program knowing she wouldn't yet be 2 on the first day of school. The admissions director and teachers were concerned her verbal and social skills might not be ready quite yet. So, they asked if we'd be open to bringing Morgan in one day to meet and observe her in "the wild" of a typical school day. We happily obliged.
It didn't take long for them to realize their concern was unfounded.
They may have expected to meet a shy, not-yet-2-year-old who, if she spoke to her teachers at all, might do so using mostly in 2- or 3-word "sentences." Instead, they got to experience both barrels of bubbly playground Morgan, eager to explore everything and talk to everyone in that classroom. The pièce de résistance was the way she communicated not in 2-word mumbles, but rather in complete paragraphs brimming with enthusiasm.
Although she had reason to be uneasy around these unfamiliar people in a strange new environment, Morgan was undaunted. In four years at that preschool, not once did she resist entering the classroom at drop-off. She embraced every bit of it.
That's just one example to illustrate why we've always been confident Morgan would be a smart, creative, loving, caring, outgoing kid. Her Mom and I have tried our best to nurture and encourage those traits. She is all that and more.
Since Morgan burst into our lives in September 2007, my main concerns have been her health and whether I'd be up to the task of being the supportive dad she needed and deserved. Today, on the eve of her 17th birthday, my concerns remain the same. Only now, like any parent whose kid is neck-deep in the college application process, I've been paying more attention to her emotional and mental well-being.
She's worked through the summer preparing for tests and drafting application essays. And while she's grappled at times with her self-confidence, I didn't want her ever to doubt how much her parents believe in her, trust her, and are proud of her hard work. Specifically, I want her to know she is more than her SAT score and weighted GPA (both of which are far better than mine were, by the way!).
A kid who can do THIS is fearless and can do anything!
When I wonder if I've said or done enough to help prepare her for this important, stressful moment in her academic life (and I've wondered often), I am reminded of the lesson Morgan taught her preschool teachers.
My daughter is more than capable. All I have to do is step aside, observe, and be there when she's ready to talk. When she is, I'll mostly listen and try to help her keep everything in perspective.
Morgan's target list for college applications is four times the size mine was, and that's after removing a few since our summer trip of college tours. She'll make one more campus visit before she begins submitting applications in early November.
Soon, it will be an admissions officer's job to compare my daughter's test scores, essays, and transcripts with thousands of other competing applicants. It's not hard to understand why our kids feel so much pressure to have perfect grades and SAT scores (whether a college requires them or not) and to qualify as the perfect candidate for every school on their list.
By comparison, my job as a dad is easy: relieve the pressure. I'll continue to remind Morgan that she's done amazing work inside and outside of the classroom. She should be proud of everything she's accomplished. More importantly, it's my job to let her know she doesn't have to be perfect on paper for her to be "perfect" to me. In my eyes, she is beyond compare. But I still might ask to take one last peek at those essays.
Happy birthday, Morgan – Dad loves you!
Pretty, pretty please, if you ever, ever feel like you're nothing
You're f*ckin' perfect to me.
– Pink, F*ckin' Perfect
Scott Beller is the proud, imperfect crew dad of two mighty girl rowers, imperfect husband of a rock-star mom/regatta chaperone, truth teller, former soccer coach, part-time driving instructor, photobomber, purveyor of banned books, Editor of the Daddying blog, and Director of Communications for DCG and D3F. He's a seasoned writer and PR agency veteran with more than 30 years of experience helping organizations of all sizes reach audiences and tell their stories. Prior to launching his own creative communications consultancy in 2003, he led PR teams with some of the world’s most respected agencies, including Fleishman-Hillard and The Weber Group. As a consultant, he’s helped launch two other parenting advocacy nonprofits with DCG founder Allan Shedlin. His first book, Beggars or Angels, was a ghostwritten memoir for the nonprofit Devotion to Children's founder Rosemary Tran Lauer. He was formerly known as "Imperfect Dad" and Head Writer for the Raising Nerd blog, which supported parents in inspiring the next generation of scientists, engineers, and creative problem solvers. He earned his BA in Communications from VA Tech.
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