The Boat Award

The other day when I picked Jacob up from school, he was unusually happy. He bounded out the door with a big smile on his face scanning the crowd looking for me. Once he found me, his smile got even bigger, "Mommy! I got an award!" he yelled.

"It's in my backpack," he told me excitedly as he ran up and gave me a hug.

He started telling me all about it. It was a "Boat Award". Hmmm...my interest was peaked. I knew that the day before Jacob's class had made boats out of recycled items.

Let's rewind about a month ago. Jacob's teacher had asked for each student to bring in recycled items such as milk jugs, boxes, cartons, so each child could make a robot. I knew when I first read about it that it would be a challenge for Jacob. But my husband lovingly saved all our recycling for two weeks filling one of those huge black garage size garbage bags, hiked it over his shoulder and carried it up to school on the assigned day. There was by far enough materials for the whole class.

That afternoon when I picked Jacob up from school, I saw each of his classmates walk out one by one carrying their robot creations. Jacob was the last to walk out, hands empty. He looked distraught that day. As we walked home I gently asked about his missing robot. "I didn't make one. I don't want to talk about it."

I left it at that figuring he would fill me in when he was ready. That night his teacher sent out pictures of the class making their robots. Jacob was no where in the pictures. My heart sank as I viewed the other kids proudly smiling posing with their creations. Later Jacob did tell me that he didn't know how to make the robot, so he didn't do it. It didn't surprise me. Open ended projects like that are very difficult for Jacob. It's not that he isn't creative. I have seen him design elaborate make believe zoos with Lincoln Logs and blocks in his bedroom. It's the putting together. The cutting, gluing, and assembling where he falls short. Even if he had a grand robot planned in his mind, he would have no idea how to construct it.

It saddens me to think, did he want to participate? Did he have an idea for a robot in his mind, but was unsure where to begin? Was it his lack of confidence in his cutting and gluing abilities that kept him from contributing? Or maybe he honestly didn't care. Maybe he was content with watching.

And so when a few weeks later another request for recyclables came home, I dismissed the note tossing it in the trash. I made no mention to Jacob about the impending project as I knew it would be met with resistance and a desire to stay home from school that day.

So when Jacob informed me of his "Boat Award", I was delighted.

He couldn't even wait to get home to show me the award. Instead he stopped at the school playground digging through his backpack. As he pulled out his certificate, he was beaming. Sure enough there it was, "Boating Award presented to Jacob for Boat with the least pieces".

Naturally I made a big deal of it telling him how proud I was of him for getting an award and for participating. But the obvious question remained, and I had to ask, "So how many pieces did you use?"

"Just one!," he answered proudly. "I used a straw box!"

I held in my urge to giggle. That is so typical Jacob. Leave it to him to find the easiest solution to the problem and use one piece.

I was more than thrilled he had joined in and was able to share the experience with his classmates, even if he didn't actually construct anything. Throughout the years it has become a trend for Jacob to not participate. I have witnessed it at many class parties where he opts out of the games unsure of the expectations, so he simply watches. Art projects rarely come home, yet I see them displayed in his classroom, so I know his peers are partaking. So I've often wondered, how much is my son missing out on because he is too scared to try something new or unsure of what to do or his role in the activity? How often does he watch his classmates instead of learning to enjoy the experience himself? I don't fault his teachers. I know from our own occurrences, that coaxing Jacob to do something unknown no matter how small is about impossible. He has to do it on his terms.

Later that night when the pictures came through from his teacher, I opened them hesitantly. There was Jacob amongst all his classmates bending over a baby pool filled with water. He was grinning from ear to ear. And there in front of him was his one piece straw box boat floating in the water.  I couldn't have been more proud.