Saturday, November 25, 2006

Cut from the same cloth

On Thursday, when I went to pick up Maïa from daycare, I got to have a quick chat with Maïa's two teachers. Things are usually a little too insane to be able to have any kind of exchange beyond, "Have a nice evening!" Unless, of course, there is something wrong, in which case, time is made. This wasn't that kind of chat; it was the good kind.

Sandra, Maïa's teacher, told me that Maïa really likes to participate in circle time. This came as a great relief because in September, she apparently wasn't saying a word at circle time. Things have changed: now "participating" may be something of an understatement. When her teachers ask a question, Maïa puts up her hand, and if she isn't called upon immediately, she quickly falls into the "ooo! ooo-ooo-ooo! I know!"-arm-waving-hand-flailing kind of participation.

At this news, I laughed, and I felt my face become red. She's exactly like me (and Derek, too). She's an enthusiastic learner, a show-off, an overachiever. And I'm admitting all this not in the spirit of bragging so much as in the state of being at a loss.

You see, I was an overachiever. I always wanted to be better at school than everyone else. I was in a gifted programme in high school. All my friends were smart (and overachievers, if they let me call them that!). And I used to wonder what I would do if I had a child who had a learning disability or who simply didn't care about school. I knew it would be difficult, but I figured I could learn how to deal with it. I never considered that I would have to learn how to deal with a child who was very much like me. But there it is: I have no idea what to do with her. Should I continue to encourage her, to push her? And I find the same discomfort that I did as a child: I didn't like talking about my grades to anyone. I don't particularly like talking about Maïa's abilities and capacities to the parents of her peers. There's something distinctly foul about it, yet I can't quite describe it.

Funny how as parents we have expectations, nameless, that we put upon our children (sometimes long before they are born). I simply expected my kids to be different from me. And they're not. It's hard watching little people who look so much like you (physically or otherwise) running around out there. Overexposure, I think.

5 comments:

LV said...

What do you mean by "my friends << were >> smart" ?

We still are! ;-) hehehe

I have no doubt you will do a great job and be able to pass down your wisdom of efficiency, balanced life style and exploring choices. She probably will push herself plenty.

Cristina said...

okay!! correction: my highschool friends were (and still are) overachievers.

Anonymous said...

As another of the 'overachievers,' make sure you encourage her. As an example, when I was a kid, I had a provincial chess rating, but once I could beat my dad, we stopped playing at home and eventually I gave up the game almost completely. I know he still regrets that I stopped playing, even though I don't!

Anonymous said...

I guess the luxury of having an overachieving child is you can encourage her schooling to not be all about the marks.

I was an overachiever and am now finding it hard to work in teams with my classmates (though this is a particular situation, I think it applies more generally too). There is something about letting go of perfectionism that is necessary to work with, and live with others!

Anonymous said...

I think you should encourage her as much as you can. I don't think a child should ever be told to stop asking questions, and at her age, this kind of enthusiasm is desired and normal! I guess you could teach her to give others a "chance" to answer, or that there are appropriate and inappropriate times/ways to ask questions or give answers, but that could give her the message not to ask, or not to put her hand up. I think this is something she will grow out of, and if she is exactly like you, she is a very lucky girl, and there are worse fates!