Ahhh, spring! The warm breezes bring flower petals and the notes of early morning bird song, the light perfume of flowers in the air and… End of year testing! You might think that because we homeschool, we get to avoid the crunch of school testing at the end of the year. Far from it. We do the standardized testing that the state requires, but that’s not what I’m talking about. This week was Memory Master!
Huh? Let me explain. In our classical education homeschool group, each week our elementary school age kids learn a series of facts (called memory work) in english, geography, math, science, latin. By the end of the year, they have learned more than 500 pieces of information. Memory master is for kids who want to demonstrate that they have mastery of the information by reciting each of these facts for their teacher at home, a independent tester, their tutor at school, and finally the director of the program. They must know all of the information from memory to achieve Memory Master. This year, my two oldest girls were ready to sit for the test…
As soon as I knew the date for Memory Master testing, I took that morning off work so that I could take them for the exam. We quizzed and practiced and reviewed and went over maps and sang memory songs. We sent them to bed on time the night before their exam. The morning of the test, I cooked a special high protein breakfast and packed up the girls and their test booklets.
When we got there, we stayed in the car for a few minutes. I prayed with them and listened to them pray for themselves. They asked me for lavender and rose oil (for peace and calm during the test), and I put a little on each neck. We went in and waited for the tutors and the girls sat close to me. When everything was ready, they went off to test.
Since I was going to have to wait for them for 1-2 hours, I brought work to do. The August schedule needs work and I had a bunch of other things to do, so I sat down and got to it. As I set about my busy work, I kept praying for them to get through the test successfully. I was begging God to help them remember all the information they studied so diligently to memorize. I knew how badly they wanted to achieve Memory Master and how disappointed they’d be if they failed. So I kept praying.
But then I thought about a question Aria had asked me earlier in the week. She’d said, “Mommy, will you be disappointed if I don’t get Memory Master?” I’d told her no, I wouldn’t be. I hugged her and told her that it didn’t matter to me and I would be proud of her hard work no matter what the result. But I reminded her that she’d probably be sad if she didn’t reach her goal, so she should keep studying. And so she did.
So why was I praying so hard for them to succeed, to make it, to win? Was achievement and success the only way this test could turn out well? If they failed the test, is it possible that they might learn something important from that experience? It occurred to me that if they failed, I was afraid that they would be so discouraged and hurt that they would suffer a crisis of confidence and not want to try again. I worried that if they didn’t reach their goal, they would think they weren’t smart and wonderful and lovable. I envisioned the tears and the consolation and the need for comforting instead of celebration, and I cringed at the thought.
Then I realized: These are my fears. They want to know that no matter what the outcome of the test, they are loved and special and wonderful and amazing and lovely and cherished. Yes, they want to succeed and gain the bragging rights and t shirt given only to Memory Masters, but most of all, they want to know that test or no test, they are worthy of love. So I started praying differently. I asked to be able to reflect back to them their goodness, no matter the outcome of the test. I asked to be able to see the lesson and gift in a failure, and to be able to help them weather that challenge if it came. I prayed to help them celebrate their hard work and perseverance, no matter the result, and for them to know deep inside that they are loved. And I waited.
Aria came out first. I could tell from the wide grin and bounding steps in her walk that she’d done it! Her tutor followed behind and reported that she had indeed completed all the recitation without mistake and had passed her test. We hugged and I spun Aria around while she laughed. She wandered off to play while we waited for Ana.
When Ana came out, I wasn’t sure what was happening. She had a smile on her face, but she said she wasn’t sure that she’d passed. It turns out that she made a minor error in her geography, but not one that was unrecoverable. After the tutor and the director conferred, they agreed that she knew her information and that she’d passed too!
What a relief! My girls worked hard and are seeing the benefit of their efforts. I’m thrilled that they are getting that lesson, because I hope it will motivate them to reach higher and work harder. But every experience in their lives won’t be a success. And as their mom, even though I want to shield them from pain and struggle and storms, I’m not going to be able to do that. Truthfully, if I could do it, I’d probably handicap them from growing into strong, healthy, resilient people. I want my children to learn how to persevere, and some of that lesson will be through hard work and failures. But if they learn that failure isn’t the end, that they are loved no matter their results, then they will be closer to being whole. And I want that for them, more than I want them to avoid the pain of failure. So what do I do? I’ll keep being here, standing behind them as they go out in the world. I hope that knowing I’m there loving them gives them strength, confidence, and comfort.
Have you found strength in your failures? How do you recover when you face a mistake? Please share in the comments below!