getting in with the cool crowd, or not
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One of my sons is not very sociable. He is a unique and wonderful and clever and funny boy, but the knack of making friends is a little late in coming. He's happy but as any mother can imagine, it worries me. Less now than in the past, I am pleased to say. I can see now that while he does not have any close friends in school, he has finally got the maturity to make some in the future.
He did, until recently, have two boys who he could ask over for playdates. Two little guys who were a bit quirky too - not exactly loners but not super popular. Nice, in other words. Until they, for reasons unknown to anyone over the age of ten, got in with the cool crowd in the class. And to stay in with the cool crowd, my son had to be dropped like a hot potato.
I really don't feel cross with them, hard as that might be to believe. They have been years, literally years, on the waiting list to get into this group. I can see the appeal. This is a groups of boys who are amazing at everything. Or so it seems. Their pictures win the art competitions, their faces are on all sports team photos displayed on the school noticboard, their necks are weighed down by medals after every sports day. On top of that they are all tall for their age and most of them are currently sporting a glowing tan(for goodness sake, they're Irish, and look at the weather we have been having! How are they so brown?) I know, its all those bloody sports.
When I see them coming out of school, throwing and kicking various balls between them, their futures just seem so easy, so mapped out - full of pals, good academic results, trophies and even darker tans.
Anyway, after years of worrying, I'm realising that they are not a threat, they are just not like him. And really, they are all just finding their own way through primary school.
I'm not going to try to get my guy into a pair of luminous astro turf boots, or a Barcelona jersey - he has no interest in any of that stuff, and rightly points out, those boots are sweaty and uncomfortable. All I have done is advise him not, as was his plan, to ask those two defectors to be his friends again. I think the "treat them mean, keep them keen" motto applies to every age. He won't be mean to them of course, but he has agreed to do his own thing, and see if they come back of their own accord. Just be cool, I said. And I think he will. There's more than one kind of cool, after all. I should have thought of that years ago.
He did, until recently, have two boys who he could ask over for playdates. Two little guys who were a bit quirky too - not exactly loners but not super popular. Nice, in other words. Until they, for reasons unknown to anyone over the age of ten, got in with the cool crowd in the class. And to stay in with the cool crowd, my son had to be dropped like a hot potato.
I really don't feel cross with them, hard as that might be to believe. They have been years, literally years, on the waiting list to get into this group. I can see the appeal. This is a groups of boys who are amazing at everything. Or so it seems. Their pictures win the art competitions, their faces are on all sports team photos displayed on the school noticboard, their necks are weighed down by medals after every sports day. On top of that they are all tall for their age and most of them are currently sporting a glowing tan(for goodness sake, they're Irish, and look at the weather we have been having! How are they so brown?) I know, its all those bloody sports.
When I see them coming out of school, throwing and kicking various balls between them, their futures just seem so easy, so mapped out - full of pals, good academic results, trophies and even darker tans.
Anyway, after years of worrying, I'm realising that they are not a threat, they are just not like him. And really, they are all just finding their own way through primary school.
I'm not going to try to get my guy into a pair of luminous astro turf boots, or a Barcelona jersey - he has no interest in any of that stuff, and rightly points out, those boots are sweaty and uncomfortable. All I have done is advise him not, as was his plan, to ask those two defectors to be his friends again. I think the "treat them mean, keep them keen" motto applies to every age. He won't be mean to them of course, but he has agreed to do his own thing, and see if they come back of their own accord. Just be cool, I said. And I think he will. There's more than one kind of cool, after all. I should have thought of that years ago.
