We need more bravery challenges

Back story: Declan is my first grandson. He just graduated kindergarten from a Montessori school in Knoxville. His mother, Maryl, gave the parent address to the graduates. It’s a speech I will address in future segments, but today I’m talking about one important aspect ot her speech: bravery. 

Maryl, speaking of the Montessori school’s unique, child-focused, learning:

“And this year, they listened to my child in the most meaningful way.”

“All year long, Declan has been working on something called ‘Bravery Challenges.’ “

“At the beginning of the year, he was a pretty cautious kid. He didn’t like being alone—not even at home. New situations and new people made him nervous. There were tears about going to summer camp and imagining going to a new school next year.”

“So we started small.”

“A ‘bravery challenge’ meant taking a small step outside his comfort zone. Doing something that felt just a little bit hard. And then celebrating it—because the goal isn’t perfection, it’s courage.”

“We tried it at home first, and then we brought the idea to his teachers.”

“And they didn’t just support it, they ran with it.”

“They came up with new ‘bravery challenges’ every single day for him. They put it on his work plans. They celebrated his effort. And every Friday, if he completed a week of bravery challenges, he got the penultimate reward for a kindergartener – a gas station slushie.” 

“By April, something incredible happened. They ran out of bravery challenges. He had done every single scary thing they could think of.”

“Meanwhile, we saw the changes at home. He didn’t get scared when I left the room. He didn’t need to follow me everywhere.

He was steady, confident, and brave.”

“One day this past month there was a moment I will never forget.”

“We had a package we were waiting for, and when we got home, I realized I had forgotten to check the mailbox at the top of our very long, very steep driveway.”

“I told Declan I would go with him, but I needed to go inside first.”

“And he looked at me, with a twinkle in his eye, and said:

“Mom, I am brave enough. I can go by myself.”

“And HE DID!”

“He walked all the way up that driveway—hundreds of feet, lined with dense forest—completely on his own. No turning back. Just bravery.”

“And I stood there in the driveway, crying happy tears, jaw wide open, completely in awe.”

“Because in that moment, I knew his potential had been freed.”

What a wonderful speech!

Realized potential and conquering fear at six years old! Learning to be brave. Lots of people grow up never learning personal bravery. 

Our public school system does not lend itself to self-development, individuality, or nonconformity. We squeeze kids into a society-compliant mold.

But parents are responsible for recognizing and instilling those things that make kids unique. Yet there is a large segment of our population who turn their children over to the schools expecting the school to raise their kids. At best, you get a conformist. 

There are people with the intellect to break through on their own, for sure. So I congratulate them. But there are wonderful teachers who are not like the ruler-slapping nuns in the movies. There are teachers who look for ways to connect with every kid and help them realize their potential, all the way through the school system. 

I can’t begin to recognize all those teachers, obviously. But what I can do is suggest that standardized testing shouldn’t be our focus. Because the world needs more Declans.  Not robots who remember every continent before graduating kindergarten, but young people who are brave enough to take on the challenges of life.  

Starting with walking up a long, scary, driveway.

Kelly Burke was born in Knoxville where he spent his younger years, followed by high school years in Atlanta where he graduated from Georgia Tech, and Mercer Law School. He has been in private practice, a magistrate judge, and an elected district attorney. He writes about the law, politics, music, and Ireland. He and his wife enjoy gardening, playing with their Lagotto Ramanolo named George Harrison, and spending time with their grandchildren. To see this column or Kelly’s archives, visit www.kellyrburke.com. You can email Kelly at dakellyburke@gmail.com.