LJ Idol 3 Strikes: What Really Matters
When she flew, she was invincible. Twirling, tumbling, flying across the bars, ribbons flowing, she felt like she was magical with her uniform sparkling in the air as she did aerial leaps. The crowds' cheers pushed her, propelled her even further than she ever imagined. No one and nothing could compare to that feeling of being on top of the world.
When she wasn't in the air, she felt like she was constantly chasing that high and falling short.
In class, no matter how much her teacher told her she was doing well in math, she couldn't bring herself to believe it. How could she be doing well if she was getting B's and not A's, she wondered to herself, her head down.
She pictured herself flying chasing the numbers as she backflipped on the beam. Her teammates were always in awe of her ability to make tumbling look easy. But it didn't matter to her. At home, in class, all she worried about was why everyone around her, her friends, her sisters, was doing better than her, smarter than her. Everyone around her seemed to be getting it. The only thing she felt she got was her back handspring.
Her teachers reminded her she has only been in the country for three years, including one of those years being at home virtual and attempting to learn while constantly practicing. To be as far as she was in reading and writing compared to many of her ESOL peers was amazing. Logically she knew this. Out of her friend group, she knew she spoke the best English and wasn't ashamed to rub it in their faces when they couldn't think of a word in English. It's all she had as she knew she was forgetting words in her first language. At times, she imagined she had no accent, that she was losing her mother tongue. Often she felt like she was breaking her tongue to keep up with her friends as they spoke their language rapidly when only two years ago, she spoke just as fast, if not faster. Yet every time, she sat down to write a sentence, an essay, an opinion, no words came out of her. She stared at the black screen frustratedly trying not to cry.
Flying came so easily to her. She made those ribbons unfurl and dance like no one else. The backbends and trips over the uneven bars were skills that no one on her team had let alone her classmates. But fractions? Spelling? Writing? Reading? She couldn’t make them do what she wanted.
“I don’t get why I can’t seem to get this when I know every single part of my routine,” she sighed disgustedly at her teacher, glaring at her test. “Probably because everyone is smarter than me, better than me. I must be stupid,” she answered herself before her teacher had a chance to respond.
“Just because this is a struggle for you, doesn’t make you stupid.” Her teacher pointed out gently. “I can’t fly like you, speak like you do, does that make me stupid?”
“No,” she shook her head.
“Everyone has their strengths and weaknesses,” her teacher reminded her. “It so happens that this might be a weakness we need to work on. Just like when you stumble in a practice. What do you do?”
“Get up? Keep going?” she offered.
“Exactly,” her teacher smiled. “This is the same thing. You keep working and you will get this. We can see you trying and this test is just one moment in time. It doesn’t define you and who you are. Do the best you can. That’s all we want to see.”
As she tumbled and danced through the air that night, running through her routine, she thought about those words. But she knew the dark truth. All that mattered was that she could fly. Because without that? She had no idea who she was besides some dumb kid in school who just didn’t get it and that scared her more than anything else.
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This was written for LJ Idol. The topic was What Really Matters. I wrote this from the perspective of one of my students, a 5th grader, who is an amazing, competitive gymnast but constantly compares herself to everyone else when she struggles in school (she is an ESOL student and also has a learning disability). I hope she learns her value one day outside of gymnastics and appreciates all that she is able to do.
When she wasn't in the air, she felt like she was constantly chasing that high and falling short.
In class, no matter how much her teacher told her she was doing well in math, she couldn't bring herself to believe it. How could she be doing well if she was getting B's and not A's, she wondered to herself, her head down.
She pictured herself flying chasing the numbers as she backflipped on the beam. Her teammates were always in awe of her ability to make tumbling look easy. But it didn't matter to her. At home, in class, all she worried about was why everyone around her, her friends, her sisters, was doing better than her, smarter than her. Everyone around her seemed to be getting it. The only thing she felt she got was her back handspring.
Her teachers reminded her she has only been in the country for three years, including one of those years being at home virtual and attempting to learn while constantly practicing. To be as far as she was in reading and writing compared to many of her ESOL peers was amazing. Logically she knew this. Out of her friend group, she knew she spoke the best English and wasn't ashamed to rub it in their faces when they couldn't think of a word in English. It's all she had as she knew she was forgetting words in her first language. At times, she imagined she had no accent, that she was losing her mother tongue. Often she felt like she was breaking her tongue to keep up with her friends as they spoke their language rapidly when only two years ago, she spoke just as fast, if not faster. Yet every time, she sat down to write a sentence, an essay, an opinion, no words came out of her. She stared at the black screen frustratedly trying not to cry.
Flying came so easily to her. She made those ribbons unfurl and dance like no one else. The backbends and trips over the uneven bars were skills that no one on her team had let alone her classmates. But fractions? Spelling? Writing? Reading? She couldn’t make them do what she wanted.
“I don’t get why I can’t seem to get this when I know every single part of my routine,” she sighed disgustedly at her teacher, glaring at her test. “Probably because everyone is smarter than me, better than me. I must be stupid,” she answered herself before her teacher had a chance to respond.
“Just because this is a struggle for you, doesn’t make you stupid.” Her teacher pointed out gently. “I can’t fly like you, speak like you do, does that make me stupid?”
“No,” she shook her head.
“Everyone has their strengths and weaknesses,” her teacher reminded her. “It so happens that this might be a weakness we need to work on. Just like when you stumble in a practice. What do you do?”
“Get up? Keep going?” she offered.
“Exactly,” her teacher smiled. “This is the same thing. You keep working and you will get this. We can see you trying and this test is just one moment in time. It doesn’t define you and who you are. Do the best you can. That’s all we want to see.”
As she tumbled and danced through the air that night, running through her routine, she thought about those words. But she knew the dark truth. All that mattered was that she could fly. Because without that? She had no idea who she was besides some dumb kid in school who just didn’t get it and that scared her more than anything else.
-----
This was written for LJ Idol. The topic was What Really Matters. I wrote this from the perspective of one of my students, a 5th grader, who is an amazing, competitive gymnast but constantly compares herself to everyone else when she struggles in school (she is an ESOL student and also has a learning disability). I hope she learns her value one day outside of gymnastics and appreciates all that she is able to do.