Julia started Kindergarten this past year. It was a great milestone, although bittersweet. I look at her and am amazed that she is already five.
Kindergarten is both exciting and exhausting for her. The amount she is learning astounds me. Every day she comes home with something new to tell me.
And I know she tries hard. Her questions tell me. I also can see it because, even in Kindergarten, she has homework.
We’ve settled into somewhat of a routine, working on her homework together, free from distraction (Lauren). I see her gripping her pencil, licking her lips, ready to go. Eager at first, she begins to fill out her letters or numbers, whatever they have her working on. Soon, though, frustration appears as her letters go into “the basement” (below the line), or her numbers are backwards, and I ask her to do them again. She sighs, and tries again.
We are good for another few letters and numbers, but soon, again, her formations are wrong and backwards. This time I don’t say anything. She knows they are wrong, and she uses her eraser and rubs them out. I’m proud of her, as she tries to “perfect” her handwriting.
But I am also worried.
Soon she erasers almost every letter as soon as she has made it. “It’s not perfect.” And maybe they aren’t, but for a five-year-old, they are.
“No, I need to do better.”
I know she wants to do better for me, for her teachers.
We have a lot of work to go through, and at this pace if she keeps this up we’ll never finish.
I try to tell her she’s doing okay, but she needs it too be right. Have we corrected her too much?
And I’m at a loss.
The next day, I stumble across this sign on Pinterest and I just know it is perfect.
At our next homework time, I give her a printout I created with the saying. Embracing her I explain, she is still learning and part of that process is making mistakes, and as long as she is trying, she is doing her best.
And mistakes, your mistakes, they are proof you are trying.