Mother Bear For The Win

He won, HE WON!

Yes, Collin won 1st place at the regional math competition this morning.  Twenty-eight area schools, 500 kids in two grades, two hour-long tests, one combined individual score.

This pic says it all.  The math whizzes are looking nervously at their parents or the announcer while my son is amused by his kid brother picking his nose in the audience.  Really.

I had an out-of-body experience when they pared it down to 20 finalists on stage, then 19, and 18, then 17 and 16....then the final three....and then there was one.  I was tingly all over, the stuff dreams are made of kind of happy.  When a well-rounded boy who QBs his football team and happily helps pack lunches every morning and patiently throws pitch upon pitch to his little brother in the front yard comes out over the plethora of math-only, math-insane, math-obsessed nerds who show up at these events, well, you just gotta be plain old happy for a kid like that.

I cried a bunch today just thinking about it.

Because you know from this post that I've had to be a Mother Bear about his education.  I never expected it before I had kids, but now, on the other side, I realize that sometimes you have no choice but to fight for them.  You have to be tenacious.  You have to pipe up and be convincing and say your peace to try to make it better, challenge their hearts, play into their gifting, increase their preparation, and (most importantly) have unshakable faith that the end result will produce virtuous, thoughtful people who can make a difference in the lives of those around them.

I'm talking in abstract philosophies, so let me tell you a story instead.

When we saw the math problems we were having when Collin was in 1st grade, we had a conference first with his teacher, and then, not feeling anything might change, with the principal of our A+-rated school.

Sitting across the desk in her office, David calmly explained the situation: our son was intuitively good at math and for the moment still liked math, but if the school couldn't help us with a better math curriculum and/or challenge than what was being presented to him each day, then he would probably end up hating math.  We implored with her.  Please, give us anything to help us help him.  We aren't professional educators--you are.  Send the math home, we will work through it with him.

She looked at us like were were plumb crazy.  Like no parent had ever asked that of her before.

She calmly described their wonderful FCAT scores, how blue-ribboned their school had become, how stellar their gifted program was, and even refused our very simple request to at least switch teachers.

The more she went on, the angrier I felt.  Nearing the end, I lost it a little and blurted "I honestly don't care about your achievement scores.  I want you to go to bed at night and ask yourself:  Did Collin Roberts learn anything today?"

Uh oh, Mother Bear was roaring out of her cave, so David whisked me out of that place as fast as he could.

The next week, Collin switched to Christ Classical Academy, where they've allowed him to do math until his brain hurt and he's loved every minute of it.

But sometimes you gotta fight for your cubs.  So I cried a bucket today with sheer relief.  This moment in time almost didn't happen, and I knew it.  I cried with the vindication of a mother who stood up years ago at a time when it was painful, confusing, and costly.

And wouldn't you know it, God is so good.  Did He have a hand in that very principal sitting there today watching Collin on stage, as he edged out her school's students at 2nd and 3rd?  It's possible.

And I hope she goes to bed knowing Collin Roberts learned something today: exactly what it feels like to be not just good, but truly great, at something God has gifted you to do.

His mama learned a little something, too.