On a recent evening one of my boys came into the kitchen while I was making lasagna for dinner and started talking about a problem he had had at school the day before. Apparently, he had left the mechanical pencil that his father had given him when school started on his desk when he went to the restroom. Upon his return the pencil was no longer on his desk but rather in the hands on the student sitting next to him. When I asked what my child had done in response, he explained that he had demanded the pencil’s return, but that then the school day was over and the offending student left the room with my child’s favorite writing utensil in hand.
Knowing just how much that pencil meant to my son, I became annoyed with the other child. I stopped making lasagna, washed my hands, and sat down next to him. “Did you talk to him today? What did he say? . . . Maybe you should try to be non-confrontational, just imply that maybe the student had accidentally taken your pencil and see what happens. . . Or maybe just let him have it. We can buy another one.” On and on I droned. I am embarrassed to admit that I was so busy trying to figure out the best steps to take to solve the problem that I barely let him get a word in edgewise.
Finally, at one point he had had enough. He raised his voice, cutting me off: “Mom, please! I took care of it already. Problem solved.” Sheepishly I stopped, took a breath and looked at him surprised. He continued: “That was a present from Dad. I wasn’t gonna let him have it. I saw the pencil in his binder this morning and asked for it once more. When he said no I reach over, pulled the pencil out of the binder myself and walked away. And that was that.”
Although this incident happened several weeks ago, I still have mixed feelings about it. I am not certain if I should be proud that my child didn’t let himself be bullied, that he didn’t go tattle but rather took care of the problem himself, or if instead I should be concerned that maybe he will someday turn into a bully himself. I just don’t know. But, what I DO know is that I learned a valuable lesson that day. My child didn’t come into the kitchen to ask me to solve his problem. No, he respected my opinion and trusted me enough to share the fact that he had had a problem at school, but that he had solved it already and wanted to let me know how. And that, no doubt in my mind, would surely have made my momma proud.
