What Happens When Your Children Aren’t Passionate About The Things You love?

My son Matt and I both make sense of the world through reading and writing. It’s why he’s an English major; why he intends to share his passion as a middle school teacher. But it hasn’t always been this way. Below is a writing from April 28, 2009- more than 10 years ago. I wrote it to help myself process an experience with Matt, which all started with an email from Matt’s fifth-grade teacher. Looking back, it ultimately was the catalyst that redirected Matt’s life. 

Robin,

I wanted to touch base with you about Matthew. He has a realistic fiction writing piece he has been working on---it was due a week ago Friday, but still doesn't have it turned in. Thanks, Mr. Earls. 

“Due last Friday,” I think aloud, “Today is Tuesday.” My blood pressure starts to rise and I panic wondering if Matthew can even define realistic fiction, let alone produce it.

I kept him in for both recesses yesterday and told him he would not be seeing the light of day from me again until I have it.

What? He missed both recesses yesterday and never saw fit to even so much as mention this to me. In fact, when I asked him the same-old, same-old questions designed to draw out any important assignments, accomplishments and general excitement from a day in the life of fifth grade, all I got was a story about how he perfectly timed a release of gas right as Mr. Earls called on him. I was horrified and asked what Mr. Earls said in response to such a disrespectful and disgusting – yet incredibly entertaining for adolescents – reply. He calmly told me that Mr. Earls said, “Matthew, sadly that was the smartest thing that has come from you all day.” 

Could you have a chat with him to see if you can get him back on track? I will be sending it home with him tonight. Let me know if you have any questions.

Questions? Oh, I have questions alright. Where is he? How quickly can I get to him? And when did my sweet and innocent baby become a pathological liar? How did I miss the signs?

Fast forward a week. Consequences are in place. The paper is turned in. But are there any lessons in it all?

Ask Matthew and he’ll tell you he learned that crime doesn’t pay and that bad choices not only hurt yourself but those around you. I believe in my heart he wants to be a man of integrity and wise character. These aren’t new concepts to him; we talk about them regularly. He was as miserable as anyone during the last week.

Ask me and I’ll tell you there are lots of lessons to take away from this little experience on Matthew’s road to manhood. First, I had to ask why. Why did he flippantly blow off this writing assignment? Sadly, for me, I realized he did this because he hates to do it. My kid hates to write and what’s even worse is that he thinks he’s not any good at it. My heart aches in sadness at the reality. How can a person who is half me despise something that gives me so much pleasure? And is he really that bad at it, or does he just think he is? Either way, it doesn’t matter. He has created his reality.

Because I love to write, I want my kids to love it too. Looking back, I am sure they both feel this pressure. I have never said it, but I guess if I am honest with myself I would have to admit that I also expect them not only to love it but to be good at it. It’s like I have become one of those parents I despise. You know, the ones who need their kids to be all that just to make themselves feel complete.

This incident shows me that Matthew is ready to give up on meeting an unrealistic expectation that I have misplaced on him. While his actions are still unacceptable, I have to take responsibility for two things. First, I have to get Matthew the help he needs to translate the brilliant thoughts in his head to something cohesive on paper. I can no longer sit by and watch him struggle at something he’s convinced he can never do to suit me. Without shame for either of us, we are hiring a tutor to help Matthew gain the confidence he needs to - “write enough.” I’m not asking him to love it or create realistic fiction stories for fun. I’m just asking him to write enough – enough to graduate, go to college and support himself.

Secondly, this is an opportunity to remind me to celebrate Matthew’s individualism. He’s incredible with math and science. He’s funny. He’s caring. He’s handsome. He is my heart. And he is just as God created him to be. He, like his mother, isn’t perfect but rather is being perfected by our Creator. In the process, God is perfecting me too. Some days (and weeks), it’s a painful process.