The Bibley

About a month and a half ago Peter came home from school with a new assignment. He was to choose a poem at least ten lines long, memorize it, and perform it. A few weeks later a rubric was sent home showing what was expected. The instructions said that parents should help.

I was so excited.

Peter was not.

He said repeatedly that it was "so dumb" and complained that he didn't want to do it. I pointed out the fun aspects and checked several books of funny poems out from the library. He ended up picking one by Shel Silverstein (The Bibely, from Don't Bump the Glump) and turned it in for teacher approval a few weeks ago.

On Monday I was looking at the calendar and realized that Peter's poem project was due on Friday. I had no idea if he'd worked on it at all. I asked him about it and he couldn't even remember which poem he'd chosen.

Ack.

After looking through the book, we both remembered the poem. It took another two days for him to actually start working on it. Peter has inherited my knack for memorization, so he committed it to memory in no time. I was busy making dinner yesterday when he came in to show me that he was ready.

The rubric had four different grading options, 4 being the best and 1 being the worst. Peter's first time through the poem was a solid 1, maybe a 2 if I was being generous. And that's what I told him. He told me he was sure it was a 4. I asked him to bring in the rubric and we would compare. After reading the criteria he relented that it wasn't a 4, but it was a strong 2. I told him to keep working on it.

He was willing to memorize it, but scoffed at any performance suggestion I made. I changed tactics and started asking questions: who was his character? who was he talking to? who was the Bibely? why was this poem so important? A few of the questions had an impact, but most slid right off his third-grade shell of self-assurance.

I finally looked at him and said, "Peter, I am a trained drama teacher! I went to college for this! You should listen to what I have to say." My credentials didn't impress him much.

I felt like a tiger mother while I was critiquing his work. At one point I thought, I bet most moms would be saying "good job honey" and other ego boosting phrases. Not me though, I needed to wear my director hat and tell him the poem was "okay, but not great." After working for a while, he did improve. Judging by his last performance yesterday afternoon, I would have given him a 3.

I don't think he's nervous, but I'm anxious for him. At least he has lots of public speaking experience thanks to talks in church and past Primary programs. I hope it goes well tomorrow.