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Last month, she only completed 7 out of her 10 jobs on time. I urge him to go practice his gaming when he looks ready to settle in for a nap.A contractor claims that she finishes a job on time 90% of the time. But now I honor his dreams by helping him find competitions to improve his skills. I will continue to expect high standards academically and I’ll expect him to pursue his dreams while pursuing a college education after graduation. I’ll never say, “Forget college.” I tell him constantly that life is about keeping doors open, and education is one of those doors. I wanted fireworks and symphonies-the kind people only experience by living their dreams. I no longer wanted this safe kind of happiness for my son. Saying no to youthful dreams brought me stability and happiness, but it was a happiness that pacified and placated rather than set my soul on fire. Slowly, through my son’s example, I am learning to pursue my own dreams. Twenty years later, I see the benefits and disadvantages of this philosophy. Too scared to put myself out there, I never truly believed I could achieve greatness in my passions. I had tried to make my son follow the safe route I had. Why? Because it was time to let go and let him fly. Okay, maybe I wanted his B in AP Environmental Science to be an A, but I decided I could live with those marks. My son was showing the traits I tried to promote, and still honoring my dreams by working hard at school. I had tried to give my son a love of reading, but it never quite “took.” Except in this instance.
#Let's play high school dreams game o how to
He also asked me to order a book from a professional gamer so that he could learn how to make money with his passions. He even ordered jerseys to advertise this endeavor. Members who did not pull their load were chastened and reminded they could lose their spot on the team. Once he founded a competitive esports club, he scheduled regular practices. Hadn’t I told him success requires passion, relentless work, a refusal to accept less than the very best from yourself? When I found this out, I was dumbfounded. While I was berating him for apathy, he was researching e-sports gaming in high schools, going to teachers and asking for sponsorships, filling out paperwork, getting administrative approvals, and founding his own high school gaming league in order to compete in video game tournaments for scholarship money with other high school teams in the nation. What I didn’t know then was that this was not a diversion, but a passion. I could let him have this innocent diversion, right? A young man whose idea of a good time was watching the latest gaming tournament, not prowling the streets with other teens. But what could I say? He was a student teachers loved, in the top 15 percent of his class. What a waste of time, I thought, hearing the sounds of his game echo loudly. Because his energy was focused on his dreams, not mine.Įvery night he played hours of video games. My son was showing the traits of a winner, but I never noticed. “With just a little more work,” I told him, “think what you could do, think what your grade could be.” My Son’s Dreams I lectured him, reminding him true success requires passion, relentless work, a refusal to accept less than the very best from yourself. If he succeeded, that meant I had been a good parent, right? I put so much work into this dream of my son’s success. In elementary school, I prepared him over the summer for the upcoming grade, buying books and bribing him with stickers and ice cream to get him to do the worksheets. I read books to him when he was a newborn and toddler. When he was an infant, I played Mozart, hoping the complex musical composition would enhance his intelligence. That is the dream I had worked toward since his birth. This is how it works, good grades, college. This is what you do to succeed, I told him. He had taken the most rigorous courses in school, and looking back, I wonder if I really offered him any choice. I browbeat him for every B he brought home, reminding him that colleges are competitive and “above average” wouldn’t cut it in the real world.
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Until recently, I was a worse enemy than the dangers he faces in his online battles. This war isn’t real, but my son is fighting a different kind of war-a war for his dreams. I follow those numbers like a bookie in Vegas-frenzied and desperate, as if this virtual war were real. The only beacon to understanding is his team’s name at the top of the screen and a number count. Where is my son in all this madness? I have no idea. On the screen are a bevy of statistics, numbers changing constantly as the commentator’s voice shouts in the background. Video Game Careers? It’s More Believable Than You Might Think