My 10-year-old son, Ethan, returned home with a report card that showcased all As and Bs, except for a glaring F in Social Studies. I was taken aback, especially since he had been insisting that he had no homework for weeks. Though my parental instincts were on high alert, I generally found Ethan to be a truthful child, so I gave him the benefit of the doubt.
When I addressed the situation with him while he was absorbed in his iPad in his room, he immediately recognized the gravity of the situation. He had already told me he didn’t have any homework multiple days in a row, and now here was the report card staring him in the face. I placed it on his bed, and his blue eyes darted around nervously, his cheeks flushing as he struggled to craft a convincing excuse.
I pointed at the F in Social Studies along with the zeros for missing assignments. “What’s going on here, buddy? I thought you had no homework?”
He exhaled deeply and launched into a series of excuses: he forgot, his teacher didn’t remind him, and he kept leaving his work at school. He concluded with the age-old refrain every child seems to utter: “It wasn’t my fault.”
I couldn’t help but think, Bullsh*t.
I reminded him about the planner he fills out at the end of each class and how the teacher lists assignments on the board. Suddenly, he teared up, exclaiming, “It’s not a big deal, Dad! Social Studies is dumb anyway.”
I could see that he felt cornered. A part of me wanted to soften my approach, as I didn’t want him to feel overwhelmed. After all, outside of his protests about chores and laundry, he was an overall good kid. Failing a class was a new hurdle for him.
Faced with a dilemma, I could either let it slide and allow him to fail, come down hard on him and risk creating a rift, or find a middle ground. Ultimately, I recognized that he needed to learn this lesson sooner rather than later. However, uncertainty loomed large, as it often does in parenting.
After a brief pause, I shared with him my own experiences at his age. “At 10, I had my own struggles, not just in school but in life,” I said. “I got into trouble for various reasons, but I was never the worst kid out there.”
He chuckled, but I could tell he was still thinking through the implications of my words. “You see, I didn’t have a lot of supervision either. At your age, my father was absent, and my mother worked long hours. I often did whatever I wanted without anyone to hold me accountable.”
I added, “I really wish I had someone to say, ‘Jamie, it’s time to step up.’ I would have hated it then, but now, I realize that kind of accountability is rooted in love.”
We shared a moment of silence, and I looked directly at him. “Here’s the deal. I care enough about you to ensure you succeed in school. I want to teach you responsibility, and that means addressing your report card. None of this is personal; it’s about wanting the best for you.”
I ultimately told him he wouldn’t be allowed screen time until he improved in Social Studies. Naturally, he objected, and I braced myself for weeks of pleading for his iPad. I often feel this way when disciplining my children—it’s hard to balance love and accountability without feeling like the bad guy.
The rest of the day, he was quiet, but later that evening, as I entered his room to say goodnight, I found him facing away from me. “Love you, kiddo,” I said softly. He muttered back, “I’ll fix it.”
I smiled in the dim light and hugged him from behind. “I know you will. Not just for the screen time, but because I believe you’re a good kid.”
In conclusion, navigating parenting is complex, requiring a blend of love and accountability. As difficult as it may be, holding our children accountable is essential for their growth and maturity.
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