So I just got the info on R's first soccer game. And I'm all in a tizzy, which I must work out before I have to actually talk to anyone. But a cursory search brought me this very post.
http://www.mommasaid.net/mommablog/2009/08/31/lets-stop-giving-trophies-just-for-showing-up/
I can't do the trophy thing. Why do I always have to be the one who sounds like the asshole? In Spring, r's first season, I felt so lucky to be on one of those teams where the kids go to the games (where they don't keep score) and then they finish going to those games and carry on to the next fun thing. And now, new coach, new plan, 6 dollars for a showing up trophy that represents many things that I don't agree with.
I have read too much Alfie Kohn. I have too much of an idea of intrinsic motivation, I am admittedly inept at any and all team sports, I am a crazy mother who wants trophies to make sense. I have a friend who wrote a damn thesis on motivation for her Masters in Education.
The real problem isn't my views. If you know me at all, you know that I generally wander from the main line, and I negotiate the world in a fairly healthy way. But the thing is, that I also just want to be friendly with pretty much most people I meet, and I also have a pretty deep need to be liked. Even by strangers, but moreso by people I know.
And I don't think I'm the only one who equates "agreeing" and being likeable and then of course "disagreeing" as the very unlikeable way to be.
So now, is there a likeable way of disagreeing? there must be, for someone with way more social finesse than I have. For now I will be quiet and think. I will try my damndest to feel it all out, and then see what happens. I've been working on this. And now, you can see, that you have not been spared my late-night writing--but have been thrown right in the damn middle of it.
Don't even get me started on the furniture in the living room so that I can deal with our new TV.
Even without late-night canning I am still awake at 11. Hrmph.
2 comments:
I love this, Sarah. Honest to the core. That's what you are.
Oh SA, I so so SO hear you. Caleb's come home with stickers on his shirt every damned day since school started. But I hold my tongue and grit my teeth, pretending not to even notice them. I know his teacher needs encouragement and support, not criticism, so I'm with you--sitting quietly with a very unquiet feeling. Here's what I'm hoping: because we know the trophies and stickers are meaningless, I'm just going to treat them as such. --Kiers
Post a Comment