Progress is progress

A nap is one way of gaining strength. (Image by M W)

The other day, a student, April, came to me in tears.

She had had an unpleasant interaction with another student during Discretionary Time, which is the period in which students can work on the assignments and projects of their choice.

The other student told April to do her work, and April did not like that.

"I just feel so mad!" she said. "I want to go home."

It's hard to convey what a big deal this was. It used to be that when April got upset, she would shut down, unable to express to anyone how she was feeling or what would make it better.

This was pretty close to unmanageable because April would get upset at everyday events, like being given an assignment in language arts.

Through effort, maturity, therapy, and medication, April has grown a great deal over the past year or so. And that's why I was so impressed by what she had to say when she came to my office. She was able to articulate what happened, how she was feeling about it, and what she wanted to do as a result.

After a conversation, April decided that she was okay with taking a few minutes out of class to compose herself instead of going home. But not until I took a few minutes to point out how much her capacity for dealing with stressful situations has expanded.

It may seem strange to count a distressing experience as a win, but I do. We don't measure how far we've come only by the standard of "great and getting better." We have to look for improvement. Sometimes, "miserable and getting better" is where we can see the most obvious gains.

For example, suppose I'm having trouble getting to bed. Perhaps on an average weekday, I intend to go to bed by 10:30, but it's 12:30 by the time I finally shut the lights out.

What I can do from here is seek improvement. And even though I might be frustrated with myself, I can try to be sincere about the progress I see.

I could start getting ready for bed ten minutes earlier, giving myself ten extra minutes of my protracted routine so that I can still get the full two hours in but get to sleep a little earlier.

I could seek to reduce my total bedtime routine by two or three minutes.

In either case, I ought to take a moment to pat myself on the back for any step forward, however small. Progress is progress.

Dismissing these efforts in the right direction as "not enough" or "too little, too late" crushes the tender shoots of initiative we're putting out. We can treat ourselves like the small child we once were: trying our best and worthy of not only praise, but loving kindness.

I suspect that there's another layer to April's story. While she was sitting there during Discretionary Time appearing to not do the work, doodling and listening to music, she was actually going through her process of getting ready to do the work. That's why it bothered her so much to be told to start doing it. Her emotional prep time for an assignment has gone from "several hours" to "twenty minutes," but her classmate was expecting it to be zero. The lack of recognition of her effort is, I believe, what made April feel so misunderstood.

Well, we can't expect everyone around us to honor and acknowledge the progress that we make, but we can at least honor and acknowledge ourselves. Even when we're struggling and can't quite do the thing we're supposed to do the way we're supposed to do it, we can observe that we're getting closer. That is something to celebrate.

And if you can't quite stomach the notion today that you should be applauded for these little signs of improvement, perhaps that, in itself, is something you can keep working toward.