Tough Love

"This job has taught you a lot about parenting."
Um. Great. I...can't...wait?
In the after-school special that is my life working with "high risk" students, I scored a moral victory last week.
Leading up to this major performance we determined that it was time to set some academic goals: If you want to become a team, you will have to play by state high school league standards. Our standards for ourselves include no failing grades. No Fs. Well, you've got three. You can't dance with the rest of the group at the pepfest on Friday. I'm sorry.
Cut to final rehearsal in cafeteria. "We don't dance unless he dances with us. He's our captain."
That's your choice. But I've put as much of myself into this as you. If you want to throw it away...
And, separately: Do not run out on stage. If you do, you will lose every opportunity for the rest of the year and the beginning of the next.
We left it unresolved on Thursday--Who would dance? Who would protest?
When Friday morning arrived, they crouched waiting to go on stage. I took him aside:
I know it's hard for you. Nobody wants to be the example. I just wanted to let you know that I think you're making the mature choice here. Thank you for coming to support your group.
They killed it, of course. They didn't need him out there. They just needed to know that he would be in the audience, cheering them on. He was. I was.
Boundaries. Limits. Parenting.
Gray hair.