When I had geometry in high school, I loved it. Math came easily to me. Geometry was intuitive and satisfying, especially proofs. If this, then that, and then this, and then finally that. I think what I enjoyed about math was coming up with a solution that is objectively right. You know when you are done, too. It’s probably the only field of study that is so concrete. Science is as well, but even as we answer questions using science, there is always the possibility that those answers are wrong or just incomplete. Math is so much better in that way.
Unfortunately, I am finding my battle with geometry a bit less satisfying this time around. As I like to say, “School was so much easier the first time I did it!” I was in charge of myself, for one thing, and nobody else. I did my work and that was that. Now I’m coaxing and helping and struggling and sucking at it.
My husband and I were both excited for Maddie to have geometry this year. She’s very visual and spacial, so we thought it would be a good fit. Also proofs were alway satisfying to both of us, so we anticipated Maddie would find the same interest we had. Uh, nope.
What I hadn’t thought through was her difficultly anticipating the future and how it might affect her ability to do a proof. You have to have a vision of how to get from the beginning to the end, and all the steps in between. She is having trouble. They’ve just started on this particular section, so I’m certainly not throwing in the towel, but I can see already that proofs aren’t coming as easily to Maddie as the rest of geometry has. That mental follow-through just isn’t happening.
Furthermore, as you probably know, math has changed so much over the years. While premises and conclusions might be the same as they once were, the methods for getting to the end have changed dramatically. This has been a problem in our house for years. Do I remember algebra? Sure, but I’ve never seen it done that way. Proofs, it turns out, look different too. I could learn the new method–once I seriously reviewed the theorems involved–and then I could help Maddie. But for now I’m stuck.
Because math has historically come easily to Maddie, having trouble with a concept doesn’t sit well with her. She has little patience for going to battle with her homework. If she can’t do something right away, and do it easily, she gives up. She gets discouraged. She certainly has grit in other facets of her life (she has had to develop that), but homework isn’t one of them.
So over the weekend, when she had numerous missed days to make up for, geometry just didn’t go too well. We looked up a tutorial on the internet. That was potentially very helpful, but without the theorem knowledge in my head already, and without Maddie’s commitment to really trying, watching the video was pointless. I gave up. I got her through the homework she could do without much trouble, and hopefully she’ll seek out the help she needs at school.
The problem is, once again, she is not at school. She wanted more sleep, she said. She’d go later, she said. I knew she was tired. I also knew she wouldn’t go at all today. She has never once done that.
And so I accepted it. I knew she would never wake up, stretch and look outside, and think, “All right! I’m going to school! I’m ready for action!” She promises she will go the rest of the week. And for now, she means it. But she can’t really anticipate tomorrow, or what will happen if she doesn’t go yet another day. Just like the proofs, she can’t get from point A to point B to point C in her head. She’s living in point A. Always.
And unlike geometry, there is never a right answer with raising Maddie, or really any kid. You never know if you’re right or when you’re done. You can never write down that number and drop your pencil in a dramatic fashion as if announcing victory over your homework or your test. Problems aren’t solved. They morph into new ones. Or the answer you thought was right appears to be wrong now. This stuff is hard.
So we begin the week with Maddie behind severals days in her school work, and getting behind yet another day. Apparently the school’s current solution is to continue lunch detentions (Who cares? she says), and then bring in a truant officer. When? I want to know. And to do what exactly?
I don’t know what the solution to Maddie’s attendance issue is, but I’m pretty sure we are miles away. I guess the key is accepting that. Maybe even accepting the a solution or answer isn’t possible at all.
I have a friend on Facebook whom I knew in high school. He is a kindhearted, lovable and well-loved man who was in the special education class. He’s in his early 50s and still lives at home with his parents, who obviously adore him and fully participate in his life. His posts are typically upbeat and fun as he gets to do so many fun things with all of the people who love him. I don’t think he works. He’s very much like a kid in an adult body, and he gets to live out his childlike existence in such a lovely way. Nobody is forcing him to grow up, and nobody is pressuring him to be any different.
I was suddenly very struck by that yesterday. What if I discarded the idea of finding a solution? What if I went all the way, one hundred percent, to acceptance? What if I just focused solely on Maddie’s happiness and let her be the kid she seems to want to be?
The problem (if you want to call it that) is I know Maddie’s intellectual development is not an issue here, and she is quite capable in many ways, so I’m not sure at all when to give up the idea of her moving forward in life, living on her own, maybe going to college, maybe having some kind of job, maybe even having a family.
I think for now I’ll keep pushing forward, with the knowledge that at some point I’ll have to shift my expectations. And accepting that possibility.
For now I just have to get us through this day, and this week, and the next. At least at that point she’ll be on winter break, so I can relax a little. And maybe re-learn some geometry.
The Year of Living Hopefully 