Sameer is a curious 12-year-old. He loves running his crazy experiments. He brings random stones into the house, and sometimes I find a bag of dirt tucked into a Ziploc on his desk, or a collection of beads and trinkets. He once tried to make wine by fermenting grape juice with yeast on his desk, checking on it faithfully for weeks. He has tried sprouting different seeds in a moist kitchen towel. When he isn’t busy with his experiments, he spends time by himself in the backyard. No one I know is as content with the world as Sameer is. He loves cracking jokes with his friends and laughing away. A big foodie, he loves to cook and makes himself a gourmet breakfast every Wednesday morning. And he loves his TV shows. He basically does what every kid his age should do.
At school, Sameer does okay with quizzes, homework and assignments. He manages a B or C, with some As sprinkled in. He understands the concepts; he just doesn’t focus enough. There are so many other fun things to do that his free spirit feels constrained by the rigid requirements of 7th grade. Growing up in the competitive environment of the Bay Area, most kids his age begin to grasp the importance of grades, extracurriculars and standing out in general. They realize the importance of academics, Olympiads, national spelling bees and AMC competitions. But Sameer is happily lost in his own little world, seemingly oblivious to the rat race around him. The same things I love about him (his innocence, his curiosity, his sheer excitement about things) sometimes make me wonder if I am doing enough to prepare him for the world he will eventually have to navigate.
It is hard not to compare him with other kids who seem to do what their parents ask of them. And that comparison and judgment show up in my interactions with him.
Recently, to instill some responsibility in him, I asked him to complete the cooking requirement for his First Class rank in Scouts during the upcoming campout. He usually doesn’t put up much resistance to anything, so he went along with it. He needed an assistant scoutmaster (ASM) to approve his menu and planning. Unfortunately, the ASM he approached didn’t believe he was ready. Instead of encouraging him, she warned him that he might not pass the requirement on his first try. Blaming Sameer for not being proactive about figuring out what was needed, I asked him to take up the challenge anyway. I wanted him to put in some work during the campout and not just enjoy his time there. Throughout the car ride, I tried to tell him how he should conduct himself while he prepped and cooked. He, however, was only interested in talking and giggling with his friend. At one point I gave up and hoped that he would take care of things, or that things would take care of themselves.
When he got back on Sunday afternoon, we were naturally curious to hear how it went. He, however, avoided us for as long as he could. Instead of wondering why, I only got angrier. He had picked up takeout noodles with his friend’s family on the way home, but since I had already cooked, I forbade him from eating them. He decided to go hungry in protest. As for the cooking, all he said was that he hadn’t completed all the requirements. He didn’t elaborate and just avoided the topic.
His patrol meeting was that Tuesday. The ASM who had overseen his cooking at the campout is also a merit badge counselor who regularly attends his patrol’s meetings and advises the kids on what they need to do. For the first time, Sameer refused to go. When I asked why, he said he had been reprimanded enough at the campout and didn’t want any more of it. That was the first time I sensed he was deeply upset about something that had happened there.
The next day, I spoke to another scoutmaster who had been at the campout. I learnt that Sameer had been corrected multiple times for not doing what was expected of him. He must have felt ashamed and insulted in front of his patrol. Apparently, what happened with Sameer even triggered debates among the adult leaders about what should be expected of scouts working on First Class requirements. When I heard this, I felt terrible about pushing him to take on the requirement at this time. I also regretted punishing him when he got back. What I had read as carelessness and a lack of interest might actually have been a child without the encouragement and confidence of the adults around him, feeling intimidated and embarrassed. Because he takes things in his stride and doesn’t complain much, I had failed to recognize that even someone as easygoing as Sameer could be hurt by an experience like this.
I decided not to bring any of it up with him. By saying so little, he had shown me he didn’t want to go back to what happened, and I felt he wanted to move on. I also haven’t yet gathered the courage to tell him I’m sorry for pushing him into this before he was ready.
I don’t think this means I should stop expecting him to take responsibility, or shield him from every challenge. But I do need to recognize the difference between helping him grow and pushing him into a world that rewards young leaders and young achievers. I’ve decided to step back and let him find his own pace, and to let him enjoy the childhood that rightly belongs to him. He is one of God’s most precious gifts. I am going to love him for simply being himself, support him as he blossoms into whatever his heart desires, and someday soon, find the courage to tell him I’m sorry.