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Show Never Give Up On A Kid By Lily Eskelson The Eleventh Commandment is Never Give Up On A Kid. Ever. I was taught that. I've recited it. I know it by heart, like the times tables, but you see, I was so tired. I was discouraged. And he was pushing. So I almost gave up. I've never quite come to terms with the awkward reality of feeling exhilarated, competent and successful with other people's children and deflated, inept and clumsy with the children who live down the hall. In my classroom I am the prima ballerina dancing an orchestrated choreography of manipulative charm. At home, I resemble more the jerky stops and starts of a 10-year-old trying to drive a stick shift and my temper smells vaguely of burnt clutch. But even so. I've always known not to give up. I've always known that kids were often caught in an endless loop of repeating old mistakes and ending up where they began and needing to hear the lessons over and over. I've repeated the right answers again. And again. Then, when talking to the counselor about my child's grades and attitude and work ethic and discipline, something drained. It didn't snap. It didn't crack like the straw on the camel's back. Someone just pulled the plug, and it drained out before I could stop it. I was listening to the bored and flippant youngster respond to yet another question by saying, "I don't see why that matters. I really don't care." And the counselor said, "But I care. Your mother and father care. We're trying to help you." I said, more to myself than to them, "I don't know how much longer I can make myself care. I don't know how much longer I can reach out without feeling someone reaching back. At least trying. Sometimes I think we'd all be happier if I just gave up trying to help." The counselor understood how I felt, but he wasn't going to let me get away with it. "You can't let your mother give up on you, kiddo. Tell her you don't want her to give up on you. Tell her." He hesitated. He looked embarrassed. But with a little more coaxing, he said, "Don't give up on me, Mom." He whispered it with his chin on his chest. I know he was just repeating the words he was told. But it plugged up the drain and made me cry. Raising kids is such hard work. It's lonely work. You tear your hair out and grow thicker skin and sprout gray hair. But our kids will never make it without us. We're not allowed to give up. So take a deep breath. Grit your teeth. And never give up. Never give up. Never give up. |