Teaching Children Responsibility

Let me start off by saying that I am lucky to have two wonderful children who love school. Both are A/B students, excelling in what they love and doing well in other subjects. But as they are now 10 and 11, I began to think I was doing them a disservice for picking up where they sometimes left off.

Both muppets already pack their own backpacks, bring me their homework, and layout their clothes the night before (no, not always, and that is my point). As consistency was becoming an issue, our plan for the New Year was Mom and Dad did not have their backs, and the consequences of their actions would be theirs to bear.

We went an entire month without incident, and then it happened. Daughter Jordan had 'cleaned' her portfolio (translation - dumped it on the floor in front of her bed), and forgot to replace her math homework sitting right on top of her desk.

Damn if it wasn't right there. I asked her three times in a general way if she had placed everything back IN her backpack that she needed for the next day, and by the third time her response were two hazel eyes rolling back in their sockets to the ceiling. So there her math packet sat.

I went to my room where the thoughts continued to gnaw at me - Jordan struggled with math and had recently pulled her grade up to a solid B. How important was this assignment? How heavily would it impact her grade? If her grade dropped, would she lose all the confidence recently instilled by her success?

When I asked my husband his thoughts, he quite frankly asked me if I ever learned anything by being told, and to let Jordan's action and the reaction fall to Jordan, as that was the point of all of this anyway, wasn't it?

I dropped her off at school the next day, and watched as she walked further away from me, empty backpack and all. Within ten minutes of arriving home, I could hear Jordan's voice on the answering machine: "Dad, it's Jordan. I forgot my math packet and REALLY need it for today! Can you drop it off for me in the next few minutes? THANKS! I love you. Bye."

I love you? She's killing me. This was definitely a test. I walked to the answering machine, paused, erased the message, and tried to go about my day, walking past her room and that damn math packet a million times before picking her up after school.

"So how was math today?" I asked with a grin. She looked at me blankly for a moment, then said, "Oh, yeah. The math packet. It was okay. Miss Joy let me do it over again in class. Why didn't you bring me mine?"

I reminded her of our pact -- I had to make a hard decision and let her suffer the consequences of her actions.

"But, Mom, nothing happened. I just did it again. So no big deal." And then she was off, telling me about using a sewing machine for the first time with a piece of paper, how someone spit milk out through their nose at lunchtime, how so-and-so broke up.

I took my head and pressed my temple against the cool window on the driver's side, positive this would stave off the building aneurism in my brain. I had no words, only a dull roar in my head as the opportunity for a life lesson eluded us.

But the next time she cleans out that backpack, by golly, I'll be ready for MY test.