Challenging

Vacation bible camp (VBC) is hit or miss for us. The kids do seem to remember the stories, but they feel as we do about the goofy songs, the made-up sign language, the practiced, prefab cheerfulness of it all. It's a good way to spend a few summer mornings and for our children to gain a passing understanding of some of the major biblical stories (and by passing, I mean that they sort of know who Moses is but get confused about reeds and baskets and pharaohs and golden calfs and the order in which these elements appear). In the midst of our discovery during VBC this year that TH's social skills were still a tad astray in novel situations, we also had a timely and interesting encounter with a veteran teacher who was veteran enough to know how to say exactly the right thing to us at exactly that time.

The final day of VBC, as we sat through the slide show in which TH appeared only as an anxiety-riddled frog-like creature huddled in a corner, face behind his hands, Mr. DMFP and I were understandably a bit anxiety riddled ourselves. It had been a strained morning for us, watching kids avoid TH, seeing him in the slide show like that. In the middle of all of it, there was Dubya. He'd had his BFF at VBC with him, so that helped smooth things a bit. He'd had a couple of great pictures in the slide show, photos highlighting his still-baby-boyish features and the intense, dark-lashed blue eyes he inherited from his father. And he'd sat by his brother, loading his plate with every sweet thing he could find on the breakfast buffet tables, thrilled that there were cinnamon rolls to be had.

On the first day of camp, I'd picked up the boys and encountered Dubya's VBC instructor. She was, she informed me, a retired preschool teacher. Dubya, she went on to inform me, was "an unusual mind, a really interesting mind, so bright and really thinking outside the box." "Phew," I'd responded, "I thought you were going to tell me he'd gotten out of hand or something." "No," she replied. "I really do well with the challenging kids." I paused, a beat, and then said, "I think you just told me that my son is challenging." I was...sort of...joking around. We both laughed, taking it in good spirit.

So, on that final day of camp, Mr. DMFP and I ran into Veteran Teacher again. She had come to the table where our sons sat alone, bringing with her another child. Suddenly, the table didn't seem quite so obviously empty. And as we stood there to bid goodbye, me at least with a huge knot in my gut, she chatted with us a bit, and then she said, gesturing toward our sons, "You know, these challenging, bright kids? They're the ones you want to have around, the really interesting ones. They're the ones who are going to do amazing things in this world someday, the big things."

And all I could think as I tried to untangle that ball of emotions in my gut, as I looked into her knowing eyes, cheerfully framed by her sun-wrinkled skin, was, Bless that woman for saying that, just at that time. It was the perfect tradeoff for a week of goofy, prefab bible school cheeriness and an anxiety-packed wrap-up. The next time Dubya engages in one of his more "challenging" behaviors--as he will likely have done by the time I finish typing this sentence--I will just remind myself that the boy's destined to do amazing things in this world someday. Veteran Teacher said so.