He Doesn’t Seem to Care.
For Shane’s third quarter of middle school, his grades dropped just a tad … more.
For the first quarter, he had straight A’s. For the second quarter, he had all A’s – except for a B in math.
For the third quarter, Shane has five A’s and two B’s.
At this rate, Shane will have all B’s by the end of 7th grade – if we’re that fortunate.
Shane does his homework. He comes home and meticulously practices his percussion for the required 25 minutes, five nights a week. He finishes his math first, which he has nearly every night. And if anyone requires anything else – including P.E. teachers, who often require quarter-long projects – he carefully spaces out the work until he has everything done that he needs to do.
But his grades have dropped – and he doesn’t seem to care.
He doesn’t have a drive to do better. He is personally satisfied with his grades. And I’m glad about that. In fact, I think he should be satisfied with his grades. Five A’s and two B’s … that’s pretty darn good.
But he could do better – and he chooses to ignore his own potential. He is content with what he’s doing. He doesn’t want to do more. He doesn’t want to work harder. He doesn’t want to check over his papers for simple math errors. He doesn’t want to write an extra paragraph on the back of a worksheet if he’s filled up the space on the front of the page. He doesn’t want to type his work so that it looks nicer.
Shane doesn’t want to do anything extra.
I’ve talked to him about this – without pressuring him, of course. And he has absolutely no idea why I would even mention it.
I guess I’m the only one who cares.