This is Norman. My masterpiece art project from elementary school. He currently sits on my parents’ shelf, dutifully holding pencils. But Norman is more than just a stellar example of my artistic skill. He is a symbol of one of the best-loved traits of my mother.
As I sat in a hard plastic chair in an art room full of squirmy fourth-graders and the smell of clay, I fashioned Norman the duck. The instructions were very clear: Make a simple mug out of clay for a Mother’s Day gift. I guess I didn’t feel like following the instructions. I grabbed some extra clay to mold it around a pencil, and endeavored to attach this extra piece to the mug. This would be no ordinary mug. I added a straw-holder. And wings.
My art teacher made her rounds to observe how each student had progressed. She looked down at my creation and firmly said, “That will never work. The extra pieces will break off when it’s baked in the kiln. You’ll have to do it again.”
33 years later, it still sits solid and unbroken on my parents’ shelf.
Admittedly, this may not have been the only time I did not follow directions…
Seventh grade Tech-ed. Clear instructions to build a basic wooden lamp with a flat square base. I made a triangle, and built sides to go around it so it could hold things. My teacher said I would never finish it in time and would receive a lower grade. It was finished in time, and still stood on my nightstand 20 years later.
I did a lot of crazy stuff growing up: Dressing in a Halloween costume to school when it wasn’t Halloween, wearing my dad’s polyester suit from the 60s, dying my hair with red Kool-aid, wearing my mom’s pink silk nightgown as a dress to my school choir concert… I get it. Some of it was just crazy kid-stuff. But I learned to be unafraid to be my own person.
As an adult, this independent spirit led me to attend college in a state I had never been to, and where I didn’t know a single soul. After graduation, I ditched plans for law school and uprooted to the other side of the world to be a teacher. Both of these life choices were some of the best decisions I ever made.
And in all of those moments- all those years of crazy moments– I never heard my mom say:
Are you crazy? That’s a terrible idea. It’s too risky. That will never work.
It never occurred to me that I would not be able to accomplish something that I had determined in my mind to do. I wasn’t trying to be rebellious, but I often thought outside-of-the-box. I wanted to know if my ideas could be successful. That can be a good or not-so-good trait, depending on the situation. But as a child I learned important lessons about myself and my abilities from those situations.
I didn’t fear disappointing my mom, because she always recognized and encouraged my value as a person. I never felt like she thought I was not good enough or smart enough to do something. I knew she would always love me for who I was. My mom never tried to stuff me in a box or squash my dreams.
As I raise three very spirited girls of my own, I hope to instill that same sense of value and confidence in their souls. So when my youngest wants to dress up as a ninja princess and sing and dance barefoot around the front yard… or my 16-year-old volunteers to speak in front of a room full of other teenagers about her struggles with ADHD… or my engineering-minded child wants to disassemble a household appliance because she believes she can fix it…
Absolutely. A thousand times “yes”.
Often our inner voice comes from things our parents have said to us. As an adult, I hear the inner voice of my mom’s encouragement and support. The same voice that affirmed me, cheered me on as a child, and made Norman the duck a beautiful reality.
Thank you, Mom.