What if You're Better Than You Thought

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8 Comments

  1. My husband and I are in the midst of going to our four kids’ parent/teacher conferences this week. I always dread them as talking about my kids progress in class makes me feel quite vulnerable and like their academics and social graces are a direct reflection on me as a mom. I try to remind myself that the kids are individuals and I am their mom, separate from them, but it’s a challenge in the moment. I feel so exposed during these conferences and trying not to be shame-faced and flustered but perhaps I come off somewhat differently than is in my mind.

    When we were leaving the conferences for the elementary kids the other day, I told my husband that coming to conferences was for me at the same level as getting a cavity filled at the dentist: necessary but unpleasant. He went on to tell me what a “natural” I am with people and how encouraged the teachers must feel from some of my comments. “I can really see God’s love coming out of you” he said. I was shocked to hear it after how badly I felt on the inside. Maybe you’re right Cheri. Maybe we are all better than we think.

  2. I don’t know. Vulnerable is a bad word in my book because of how the experience makes me feel. I avoid situations where I might have to be “bare” before other eyes. However, the idea that I am not bad is good. Might be worth the uncomfortable feeling to make progress in this area.

  3. i just had to laugh, not at you, but my AWFUL memories of the piano. i hated it, and my parents wouldn’t let me off the hook. SIXTEEN years of piano lessons and i can’t play. oh, wait, i think i can do chopsticks. i was bad at the piano.

    when it comes to other things in life, i get your meaning. it’s about having expectations, yours, your parents, society, teachers. the phrase that comes to mind… you can do better than this. that, of course, made me feel bad.

  4. Terri Goehner says:

    I always thought I was a “bad” student (translation stupid and slow”…but several years ago as I was cleaning out my garage I found some old report cards and discovered that I was an “A” – “B” student. I was shocked.