Some days I want her to learn so much. I want to pour into her my dreams and passions. But my job isn’t to fill a bowl but to plant a seed. It’s harder this way. I have to listen her. Figure out how what she needs to know fits with what she wants to hear.
In all of this, I am learning too, perhaps more than she. That I can be a teacher best when I’m just doing life. Click To TweetThat I need to let her see the kind of woman I want to be, even when I fail. I don’t have to know it all, just prove that I’m still searching. That the journey never ends.
So we read aloud, practice consonants and vowels, and count. Books, steps, and days. We sing, cry, fight and explore. I am guide and teacher, but it is her quest. I can’t walk it for her, or force her down the paths I would choose. But I can walk beside her and hold her hand, when she lets me.
She will learn. It is inevitable, it is like breathing. But will I let her fly?
