Soccer

Despite a long-ago blog post to the contrary, I'm pretty comfortable with the level of enrichment we provide for Isaac. He hasn't taken a lot of classes or lessons, partly because he isn't a great participator, partly because I'm lazy, and partly because I'm too cheap to pay for them. But we try to make up for it at home.

Isaac has lots of books, his own CD player, an easel and paints, drawing and writing supplies, tools both real and pretend, several types of blocks, puppets, a play kitchen, and so forth. There's a lot of imaginary play, but we also do a lot of "real" things together, like cook and garden and shop and repair things. We, as he says, "study things" we discover outside and often refer to our nature guidebooks. We spend a lot of time at home, because we all enjoy it, but about once a week we get out to a park, a friend's house, or a children's museum. His school, which in the fall he will attend three days a week, is play-based and incredibly rich in activities.

Plus we talk, and talk, and talk.

But something is missing, I realized as I made our plans for the summer. What about physical education? What about sports? Beyond gardening and leisurely nature walks, Isaac's parents don't model much physical activity, and we're certainly not sports fans. Shouldn't he have a more balanced childhood? Isn't he going to be left behind because his fellow upper-middle-class suburban classmates all joined a swim club or learned lacrosse in infancy?

So this summer I skipped storytime and music lessons and art classes, and instead signed the poor kid up for two athletic activities. Today was Isaac's fourth day of Tot Soccer, which is really just skill-building games for children aged three to five. And tomorrow is his first-ever swimming lesson.

How is soccer going? Well, in general Isaac pursues peaceful nonparticipation. He makes an art of it, rather like his father. When asked if he would like to play, he doesn't cry, shout, or throw a tantrum -- he simply prefers not to. He isn't shy and he doesn't withdraw, however -- he likes to work with safety cones, so when the coach starts to set up a new activity, Isaac jumps up and runs onto the field to help rearrange the cones. Then he runs back to the sidelines.

The first day of soccer it was clear we were signed up for a session that would be a poor fit, as it was attended solely by five-year-old twin boys who had taken soccer the summer before and liked to play rough together. Isaac sat with me and watched them, a choice with which I agreed, and the coach suggested we switch to the earlier session, which would be better for a beginner.

The second day I tried aggressively to get him to play, forcing him to stand on the sidelines next to me, encouraging him at every turn, and sometimes even threatening him. I think I reached my low point and exposed some of my own fears when I said, "If you don't join in now, all these kids will learn soccer without you, and then you will never catch up!" He hung his head miserably.

The third day I tried the opposite strategy. I told him he could play if he wanted to, then I laid out a blanket under a tree, and Isaac and Laurel and I sat and watched the other kids play. I felt like I was raising Ferdinand the Bull. It was more pleasant, but he didn't participate in any way. He didn't even help with the cones.

The fourth day was today, and as Craig had the day off, he came along too. The two of them kicked a ball around before class started, which was more than Isaac had ever done before. But when the organized activities began, Isaac refused to play. He wouldn't play even though I promised him ice cream afterward if he kicked the ball, even though I wouldn't let him sit on the blanket with us, even though Craig gently cajoled him. So then Craig had the brilliant idea that we should just leave Isaac there -- drop him off, like with school.

It worked, sort of, which I can report because we walked around the corner just out of sight and spied on him. He chose a ball and kicked it into position and stood with the other kids, at least, even though he declined to do the actual activities. He ran down the field with the other kids to the drinking fountain. And even though he didn't join in the "team cheer," later on he gave Coach Paolo a high-five. It was a huge improvement.

I'm wondering how I can apply this strategy to the swimming lesson tomorrow, where there is likely to be an element of terror.

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And what enriching activities have I planned for Laurel? Uh, I'll get back to you on that one. Does a trip to IKEA count?