Tears at Dinner

In years past, I have pondered the very possibility of having a slacker-child.  One that is bright and does fine in school, but just has no desire to do really well.  To achieve his or her potential.  I mean, if you have a slacker child, how do you instill the high-achieving work ethic if they don't have it naturally?  I don't know if that's possible. 

I remember from my school days that for every high-achieving, AP class-taking, first-tier college-attending classmate of mine there were twenty (or more!) kids who just coasted through.  And I don't want my kidlets to be coasters!  I want them to be able to do whatever it is they want to do with their lives.   Therefore, I'd hate for them to close any doors with their slacker-ness.  I mean, who gets into med school with a 3.2 from State U?  No one.

So...I guess we sort of hoped and prayed and worked hard ourselves at everything they saw us do.  And luckily, Jack (the only one who is old enough to prove his non-slacker-ness) is, indeed, not a slacker!!  Woot!

Except Jack has taken it to the extreme...a bit.  For instance, yesterday he came home from school in a snit.  Strode in, dropped his bookbag on the kitchen table (I knew we pickled it for a reason), and plopped down on the sofa with an audible huff, arms crossed across chest. 

Now some of that could be that yesterday was a day the school system decided to keep the children two hours late to prepare for the SOLs (don't even get me started on that one...) and he was exhausted.  And hungry.  Nothing to eat since their 10:30 lunch (yes, 10:30 lunch, don't get me started on that one either).  You see, the school provides the children with an afternoon snack on these late days.  Only they decided to bring in Chick-fil-a. 

So the cafeteria lady brought him a fried chicken sandwich, to which Jack replied, "I'm a vegetarian.  No thanks." 

lady:  "How bout some nuggets."

Jack:  "No thanks."

lady:  "You don't like fried?  How bout a grill chicken sandwich?"

Jack:  "No thanks.  I don't eat meat.  I'm a vegetarian."

lady:  "Oh, you a health nut?  How bout some chicken soup?"

 

So he was starving and tired.  And he had gotten his Social Studies test back. 

He missed a question about the Constitution.  He said he read the question, knew the right answer, but then talked himself out of it and chose the wrong one.  Ah ha!  A great lesson!  In multiple choice test scenarios, always go with your first instinct.  That's a strategy that's been proven in studies.  And what a great time to learn that lesson.  In the 4th grade! 

He handed me the test.  A solid "A."  94%.  And then the tears started.  He hated that he got a 94%.  What?  Jack, that is a really, really good grade, I told him.  You learned a great lesson, and got an A to boot, I continued.

The tears settled after a while.  (Interestingly, he no longer sobs when he cries.  Tears and sniffing are all we have leftover from the wailing of his baby- and toddler-hood.  And that is is somehow so, so sad to me .)  I think he feels o.k. with his grade.  But truly, he was and is really bothered by less than perfection in himself.

Now, as is my motherly burden, I have something new to worry about:  ulcers.