Watching Them Fail

 I worry about Benjamin constantly.  I always have.  Now that high school has started, I worry even more.  He's really struggling to get his work done.  Today, since we'd been camping the last several days, he had work piled up.  I had told him all last week to work ahead a bit since he wouldn't have the weekend, but he didn't.  He was in his room, at his desk, for 12 hours today.  However, I looked through the amount of work he had.  I even read the entire history reading assignment and did 1/2 the math to see what he's working on and there's NO WAY that would take that long.  In fact, he never even finished!  He only read a small fraction of the history assignment and still has more math left!  I'd say that amount of work he had should have taken maybe 5 hours at most.  That's being generous.  So, that leaves me scratching my head.  What is the problem?  He claims it's that the work is so hard and it's taking him a long time.  Maybe.  I know I'm a faster reader and better at math than he is, but 7 hours more and still not done?  Really?  I think the problem is one of two things (or maybe a combination of the two).  1. He's not really working.  He's on a million other websites and games and chats with friends and wasting most of the day.  2. He has no idea how to effectively organize his workload and so he spends a lot of time inefficiently without realizing how to organize and prioritize tasks.  So, the issue is, do I do something about it or do I just let him struggle and possibly fail?  I'm not a helicopter or a snowplow parent.  I agree that kids need to face trials and need to fail sometimes to learn.  However, if there are some things I can do to teach him and help him, I feel that's a good idea.  He's just so resistant!  I went in there about 3 of 4 times today offering to help with math or look over his computer code or discuss the history chapters and he refused.  Yelled at me, told me to leave, said he could do it.  When I asked why things were taking so long it was always, "it's just a lot of hard work!"  Yet, every time I walked in, his screen was identical, which leads me to believe that it was the screen he flips to when he hears me walk in.  I've thought about making him work in the kitchen, but it's impossible to concentrate in the kitchen with all that goes on in this house.  I thought about making him move his desk around so that the screen is visible from the door, but his bed is so high that if you move it to make that possible, it blocks the window.  We've tried a dozen different internet monitoring programs and they all stink.  We'll think it's blocking YouTube, for example, and then I'll sneak in and see he's using it.  I've talked to him about various organizational strategies I use when I have large amounts of work, but he just lets it go in one ear and out the other.   He doesn't have to spend every waking minute on the computer, but I think he uses school as an excuse to do just that.  I can't tell him to get off if he has homework, so he just makes sure the homework is never done.  In the meantime, because he's spending so much time at the computer, he's not doing chores, practicing piano, getting any exercise, or doing anything with the family.  I don't know what to do about him.  I pray all the time for guidance and inspiration on how to help him.   I constantly walk the fine line between helping and nagging.  Advising and pushing too hard.   I don't have the answers.  I just pray I can help in some small way.

I came across this today.  It fits so perfectly.  

"I am the keeper.

I am the keeper of schedules. Of practices, games, and lessons. Of projects, parties, and dinners. Of appointments and homework assignments.

I am the keeper of information. Who needs food 5 minutes before a meltdown occurs and who needs space when he gets angry. Whether there are clean clothes, whether bills are paid, and whether we are out of milk.

I am the keeper of solutions. Of bandaids and sewing kits and snacks in my purse. But also of emotional balms and metaphorical security blankets.

I am the keeper of preferences. Of likes and dislikes. Of nightly rituals and food aversions.

I am the keeper of reminders. To be kind, to pick up their trash, to do their dishes, to do their homework, to hold open doors and write thank you notes.

I am the keeper of rituals and memories. Of pumpkin patches and Easter egg hunts. I am the taker of pictures, the collector of special ornaments, and the writer of letters.

I am the keeper of emotional security. The repository of comfort, the navigator of bad moods, the holder of secrets and the soother of fears.

I am the keeper of the peace. The mediator of fights, the arbiter of disputes, the facilitator of language, the handler of differing personalities.

I am the keeper of worry. Theirs and my own.

I am the keeper of the good and the bad, the big and the small, the beautiful and the hard.

Most of the time, the weight of these things I keep resembles the upper elements on the periodic table - lighter than air, buoying me with a sense of purpose.

But sometimes the weight of the things I keep pulls me down below the surface until I am kicking and struggling to break the surface and gasp for breath.

Because these things I keep are constantly flickering in the back of my brain, waiting to be forgotten. They scatter my thoughts and keep me awake long past my bedtime.

Because all these things I keep are invisible, intangible. They go unnoticed and unacknowledged until they are missed. They are not graded or peer reviewed or ruled on by a court. And sometimes they are taken for granted.

My husband and my kids are kind and generous and they love me hard. And this is by far the greatest job I have ever had. But sometimes being the Keeper is exhausting. Because you feel like you're doing it alone.

So to all of you who are keepers, I see you.

I know the weight of the things you keep.

I know the invisible work you do, which doesn't come with a pay check or sick leave, is what makes the world go round.

I see you.

And I salute you."