In Education jargon, there is a little thing teachers call wait time.
It's when you allow students adequate time to answer a question. At first, it's intimidating. You have to learn not to fear that awkward silence that looms as the students wait to see if you will answer your own question for them. You have to let the silence, the waiting, show your students that you really are expecting them to think about what you are asking, and to give you an answer because you are not going to do it for them. Or, as the teacher, you have to use it to decide if you need to approach the question in a different way. It's not easy at first.
One day Janie was playing on the floor with some books. She does this often and sometimes as she is moving them they end up out of her reach [sometimes on purpose, sometimes not]. She soon lets me know she wants it back and with a yearning expression she appeals for me to get it for her.
Sometimes I do.
Sometimes I wait and encourage her to do it. I tell her to try and reach for it, or to lay down and roll to it and get it.
I always have to wait on myself and see if I can let her try and fail. To let her feel the fail. It's still not easy. And, sometimes, I don't make us wait.
On this day I went for the book and to my surprise, we reached it at the same moment.
I could have waited longer, waited on myself to see her succeed.
I think too often our fear of failure blocks out our hope of success, like a big black rain cloud moving in fast. I am trying to stay in the sun, to let go of the worries I have for her and let myself believe that she will reach. Reach all the things we hope for her, her potential, happiness, joy.
Today, again, Janie wanted a book that had made it's way out of her grasp. As I watched, she reached for it and failed. Without a trace of a cry, she carefully laid herself down and grabbed the book.
Waiting rooms are not so bad, you know.
