When you're a parent, you spend a good part of your life comparing your children to others. That's normal, and almost all parents do it -- we use comparison as a gauge to measure our child's progress and development.
Does our baby sleep more or less than others? Did our child walk earlier or later than the average child did? Did our child begin learning to read before or after other children did? Is our child doing better than average -- or worse?
Comparison often happens subconsciously. And while it may be a good way to measure whether your child needs extra help or encouragement, comparing your child's spelling and reading development to that of others can also hinder progress.
I recently had a wake-up call experience about the dangers of comparison. I have a pony, Ginger, and one of my goals for her is that she become a dependable trail horse -- calm and steady. So when other riders at my stable decided to head out on the trails one day, I thought, "Perfect! We'll ride along."
Now, Ginger doesn't have much experience on the trails. The newfound freedom was exciting to her, and I had to hold her back while other riders prepared to leave. Her hooves danced in place and she literally chomped at the bit while we waited.
Ten minutes into the ride, it was clear we had a problem. Ginger wanted to forge ahead of the other horses, and I struggled to hold her back. The more I worked to keep her in line and have her behave like the other horses, the more frustrated she became. She even reared up!
So when my trainer Jayme asked if I'd like to trade horses with her for the rest of the ride, I quickly agreed. Good idea!
Jayme had her hands full just as much as I'd had, even with her experience. Ginger just wanted to shoot ahead, and Jayme was determined to teach Ginger she couldn't do as she pleased.
Then Ginger bucked so hard that Jayme flew through the air and landed in the snow. Jayme came up fighting mad. This was going to be a battle of wills -- and my trainer wasn't about to be the loser.
By the time Jayme was done working with Ginger to teach her respect for riders, my pony had a very different attitude. She was calm, attentive, willing, and listening well -- and worn out.
Ginger has learned her lesson, I hope. We'll know for sure the next time we take her out on the trail. But I learned my lesson, too. I made a poor choice by continuing on the trail ride even after I felt how excited Ginger was when we first started out. Before we left the stables, I should have
swung off and said, "See ya! I think I'll sit this one out." Then I should have done some very basic exercises with Ginger at the beginning of the trail.
Instead of trying to "keep up with the Joneses'," I should have realized that Ginger just wasn't ready for a trail ride. I should have read the signs -- the high head, the prancing feet, and my gut feeling that this was not going to end well.
I wanted Ginger to be like the other horses. I wanted to live that dream of going on a leisurely trail ride in the woods, with the beautiful scenery and birds singing. Everyone else's horse can handle it -- why can't my little Ginger?
Because Ginger is different from the rest of them, that's why. She hasn't had the type of preparation she needs. And she isn't naturally inclined to be laid back and follow the leader. She needs more extensive groundwork than the other horses in the barn, and more consistency and review.
Some of you are facing a similar situation with your children. You see that they aren't reading as well as the other kids, or their spelling causes you embarrassment. You're wondering what to do since your child doesn't read or spell at grade level. Other people's children just seem to pick
up these skills naturally -- yet it is a struggle for your child. It isn't fair.
I'll tell you what I've had to tell myself over and over for the last several days. Stop comparing. Your child may need a different type of instruction than the other kids -- more practice, more consistency, and more review.
As for Ginger and me, I have to work with what is in front of me, even if it doesn't match up with the ideal in my mind. I love this little pinto and can picture a bright future for us, but I can't act as if everything is okay when it is not. I have to work on filling in the gaps in her training first, just like you might need to work on bridging those gaps in your child's spelling and reading.
It's worth it, don't you think? I'd like to hear your comments!
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