Phew...so far.

So week three of tutoring. The good news is, he's going great. The bad news is, he's doing great. The tutor has now seen him with prep, and without, and said she's been at this a long time and couldn't believe how well he's doing either way. I'm proud of him. I'm happy for him. I just KNOW him. And this might work for him now, but when the challenging parts come I'm afraid how he'll handle it. I'd like to think he'll dig in, but more likely, he'll balk. But maybe the challenging parts won't be as challenging as I think. I can't really speak to it since I don't have the experience - and I certainly don't want to presume he's some sort of Hebrew savant. But, well...we'll just have to see, won't we?

An Unexpected Shot To The Heart

A couple of Sundays back, my son's b'nei mitzvah class had a workshop (we've had a few over the course of his studies and I believe we have a few more) that involves at least one parent. These workshops let families work together to discover things about ourselves, our identities, the hows and whys, and explore our choices. This workshop in particular had a section where we divided into two groups - all the parents, and all of the kids. As parents we had choose (and could only choose one option) a reason why we wanted our kids to become bar or bat mitzvah and walk over a designated area. The choices were: "I did it", "I didn't do it", and to be honest, I can't remember the other two options. I stood in the "I didn't do it" section. I didn't go to Religious School of any kind, formally that is. I went a few times with friends to their classes - both Hebrew School and CCD, but those visits were few and far between and none of it really made much sense since my family didn't attend any kind of services regularly. We were secular Jews at best...Jews of convenience, perhaps more aptly put. And we did Christmas as much as Chanukah, Easter as much as Passover...although we never attended church services for the Christian holidays, but did hit the High Holy Days at the synagogue. As we got older, I watched the Catholic kids get confirmed and the Jewish kids get bar or bat mitzvahed...and I just felt...sort of...lost. Not terribly lost - I was happy with my life and never felt like I didn't know enough about faith, nor felt disconnected. I was a very involved and socially active young person maybe more so than many because I didn't have one place I "belonged" to, but just felt myself a part of everything, rather than apart from anything. But there was always this little something nagging at the back of my head. And while of course, the celebrations were admired, the presents were cool...it was never about that. My parents threw me one heck of a Sweet Sixteen, ballgowns, twinkly lights, fancy food and all and I ate it up (and well, most of us do look better in formal wear at 16 than at 13 - so there's that.) But there was this one rib this one kid went after me with when we were about 12 years old, and it's stuck with me all these years..."since you're not getting confirmed, OR bat mitzvahed, you'll never really be a woman." I told him to stuff it and that it was a load of crap. But it did sting. And like I said, it's always stayed with me. Then it was the kids turn. They had to do the same thing - select one option that best fit why they were preparing to become bar or bat mitzvah, but with slightly different options. Theirs were, "I don't know", "My parents are making me", "My older sibling did it", and "I want to do it for myself". This was a slam dunk for me. A smile started to spread across my face as I prepared to see my son confidently stride over to the "I want to do it for myself" section. This was one answer I was sure of. After all, it was he who started this journey for the family. He brought us to the synagogue. He insisted on enrolling in Religious School. We were perfectly happy on our course of relatively secular faith, leaving the eventual choice up to the kids when they became of reasonable age. He was always excited about Passover, and longed to read portions of the seder in Hebrew for years before he could. But the first time I saw him in a synagogue - so rapt, so engaged, so oddly familiar in an unfamiliar setting I knew our secular life was a short one. But it was my smile that was short-lived. As quite a few kids made their way over to the "Because I want to" section, mine hesitated. He stood in the middle and thought about it. Then took the few steps over to the "My parents are making me" group - which had only one other child standing there, who looked as though he was already regretting his choice - honest or not. I couldn't help myself but bark out, "LUCAS!" before he took the final step. The Rabbi quickly intervened and reminded us that this was about honesty with no repercussions. Everyone laughed, including Lucas. Everyone, except me. The other boy, at first looked relieved that he was not alone in his choice. But when he had his chance to voice his opinion, he took one look at his mother and caved. He announced that he was wrong in his decision and should probably move to the group of "I want tos" and sheepishly side-stepped over to the other group. Then came my son. He looked at me, saw my now very angry body language, my arms crossed, my fingers digging into my arms, the dismay on my face. I was speechless. And for a moment so was he. I'll never know what went on it that head exactly. I still don't know if he did it to get a rise out of me, or to single himself out as he is typically wont to do. And honestly, I can't even remember what he said - my brain was just so buzzing with defeat that I could see his lips moving but couldn't make out words. The tears that were reserved for pride now started to brim from sadness. However, I was still impressed that he stuck to his guns about it. I wasn't sure of his honesty or his angle, but you couldn't knock him lack of conviction. The rabbi directed the kids to sit down. I couldn't even look at him. I was so utterly confused by my emotions I phased out for about the next 20 minutes of the workshop. Did I make him do this? Did he feel obligated or compelled to do this out of guilt? Or fear? Am I that overbearing mother that lives through their children? What did I miss? Has he ever told me he didn't want to go to Religious School? Have I been ignoring his needs? Have I been feeding him enough? Did I forget about his vaccinations? Did I sign the paperwork at the hospital after his birth? After the workshop, in the car, I finally said something to him. "So, Lucas...what was up with your choice for why your doing this?" Already I started to panic that I set him up with a defensive question. "Whaddya mean, Mom?" he replied flippantly. "Am I making you do this?" "Do what?" "Lucas, were you not in the same workshop I was?" "Yeeeessss." "So, I seem to recall, it was YOU who wanted us to come visit the temple in the first place." "Yep." "And it was you who said you wanted to go to Religious School and learn Hebrew. "Aaaah - huh, yup." "But I'm the one making you study for bar mitzvah?" "Yup." "Really?" He nodded. The drive home was silent. Parked in our driveway he turned to me and said, "It's not you making me do this. I want to do this." "Then why didn't you say that then? Why did you go to other group?" "I don't know, I just thought it would be funny." "Did you get the reaction you wanted?" "People laughed." "Did I laugh?" He paused, and dropped his gaze, "No." Silence. "I'm sorry, Mom. I really am. I want to do this," he put his hand on my shoulder, "I want to do this together." I'll take it.