Last night I had a flash back...I watched my husband sitting at our kitchen table with my son working on math. My husband was rubbing his head in frustration and my son was doing the same.
I never liked math as a child. My dad was my "math hero." Almost daily he worked with me at our kitchen table, reteaching, training and tutoring me. We would sit there until I was able to do the assignment independently with success. I remember working the problems on my own,but as I worked, I would glance up to see whether he was grimacing, frowning or pleased...He quickly caught on to my dependance on his facial clues and became completely expressionless...even worse, sometimes he would leave the table and set the timer. I hated when he did that.
My flash back came in the same scenario...I watched as Fisher answered a math problem, and I watched him look up at my husband for some sign in the lines on his face, "am I supposed to carry the one here?" I watched as my husband became expressionless, and I felt for Fisher.
Then, standing there in the kitchen, staring at the scene, I experienced one of those surreal moments that happens to every parent when you see your life from outside of it almost looking in. In that moment, it hit me that..."wow, I am the parent now." I am no longer the child looking for the facial clues, but instead someone looks to me for them. There will never be another math test for me, but I will study math all over again for years as a parent. I wanted to interupt that scene and afirm for Fisher that he would conqure three-digit addition, and everything would be ok.
There, among all the frustration, my kitchen table now hosted the cyclical scene of life, I mean, math, revisited, and I was oddly comforted.
...let's just hope I retained all that my father taught me, and by the way...thanks Dad..I get it now...more than just math....thanks to your help, your expressionless face and our ktichen table!