In robotics, my son had found his “thing”, an organized activity which he enjoys and in which he excels. The only unsolicited information I get about his days at school is when he updates me on the progress of his team’s robot. On the team there are coders, builders, and drivers. “I’m a coder,” he likes to remind me.
Spongebob is the character I needed but never had growing up.
I felt so disappointed for my son in his inability to excel at baseball. I had simply concluded that he lacked talent, and that was that. Of course, I would cheer him on and encourage him as long as he was interested, but, I assumed, the writing was on the wall. I pigeonholed him as “not an athlete”, just like me. Knowing now that it is quite likely that his vision was at least partially to blame for his trouble is a humbling reminder: our kids are not just small versions of ourselves.
Because adoption and doctoral education as practiced in the United States are hallmarks of multicultural policy
Against the recommendations of positive psychology