Thank you, Mr. Silvera!

Mr. Silvera is a gym teacher at my son's school. I'd always thought he was nice enough until the day my son came home, chagrined. According to the boy, only the kids who had finished a certain number of laps during gym class were allowed to get water. This made me angry. It was a hot day, and I could not imagine why a teacher would do this.

I wrote a long letter to Mr. Silvera telling him exactly what I thought--diplomatically, but forcefully. Then, a few weeks later, Mr. S. and I talked about it. The story involved some misunderstandings and miscommunications, as such stories often do. It wasn't a comfortable situation for me, because I HATE confronting teachers. I know what it's like to be on the other side of that desk (not that elementary teachers ever actually SIT at a desk. Not that they ever SIT much at all). And I know all too well how it can backfire, making one's child the possible object of a teacher's resentment.

But I am a Mama Bear (derisively called a Helicopter Mom by some crowds). I will advocate for my kids until the day I die. Or until they tell me not to do it any longer. (And, frankly, when that day comes, I will celebrate.)

But after we talked (and maybe before, I just didn't notice), Mr. Silvera decided to take my son under his wing, to encourage him and challenge him, and my son rose to that challenge.

So last week, the boy told me he needed to run in the Montclair YMCA 2 mile Run/Walk. I was stunned.

"Mr. Silvera will be there," my son told me matter-of-factly, "and he says I can do it."

Now, please understand: My son is small for his age. He is shy. He is cautious and sometimes even tremulous. (Never these things at home, I might add.) He doesn't like big crowds and he hates when people clap for him.

But that was then.

Now the little boy I keep trying to protect is pushing himself. Hard.

Because Mr. Silvera says he can.

And on Sunday morning, Mr. Silvera was at that race, cheering. When my son saw him in the final moments of the race, he veered off the course and went right for him, huge grin on his sweaty mug. Then he got back on that road and made it to the finish line.

Oh, the power of a teacher who believes in us when our own mama thinks we're still a baby!