For a long time, my son Noah was the topic of choice on this blog. His little-boy antics made people laugh, hug their hearts and own babies. It made me happy that he could do that for others, especially because he's been a fireball of passion and feeling since before he was born.
Noah is now thirteen years old. Today, he is at a local high school preparing to make a decision that is the most important one he's ever faced. My little boy, facing something so big. I guess he's probably not so little anymore, but when I look at him, I still see him that way. And I think...my little boy deserves a lot more credit than anyone seems to realize.
He's an actor. Probably anyone reading this knows that already. A few years ago, he was in a show called Big Fish. It bears repeating (a million times) that this show changed Noah's life, and the lives of each person living in my house. It is about fathers and sons, husbands and wives, and most of all, the magical power of making your life the adventure it deserves to be. This is actually the heart and soul of who we are, my little family of five, and always has been, and it was an amazing experience to see it unfold on a stage the way it did. Even better that Noah was a part of it.
I can't help but think back right now to a particular song from Big Fish. In "Fight the Dragons," the father tells his son about the challenges he's faced, and continues to face, within the metaphor of battling one's own dragons every day. Today, Noah is trying to decide what high school he will attend. I know in a lot of families this isn't even a factor, but in ours, it's a big one. My husband was gifted the same choice, and has always credited much of his identity to the strength and character he built from it. The school he chose was a brotherhood, and he deeply wishes for that same experience for his sons. The trouble is, Noah isn't sure if it's going to be the right choice for him.
I don't think parents can help but have preconceived notions about who their kids will be, or the choices they should make. It can be crushing to see your child reject what you want for them, especially if you believe--hard--that you're right and they are wrong. I mean, after all--they're kids, right? We're the parents, we know best. But once in a great while, the line between us knowing better, and them being their own person is a fine one. It can feel impossible to know if we are doing the right thing. The words "What if...?" never seemed so crucial.
And in this case, two hearts rest on this fine line. Noah's and his dad's. I'm a mom and a wife who can offer support and love, but I can't do much else to help. That's tough, too.
So I'm doing a pretty useless thing here, listening to the words of "Fight the Dragons," and knowing how much Noah and his dad love each other. I'm also thinking back rather specifically to First-Grade Noah. A small boy who, one winter's afternoon, had an accident on his school bus. It slid on ice, and Noah's head whacked the window. Right at his eyelash line, the metal lip of the window cut him open. Blood everywhere, paramedics called, Mom rushes to the scene, Mom rushes him to Immediate Care. Noah's beautiful eyes...what will happen, what will happen. Like a miracle, it was his eyelid, not his eye. They literally glued him up, and sent him home to heal. It was scary and traumatic for him, but it was also a day many people rushed to love him and let him know he will always be safe and cared for. It should have been something that was over and became a memory, maybe even a nice one.
It didn't end like that. Due to a mishandling of things at his school, Noah ended up being punished the next day for not having his homework done. His doctor's note for gym class was lost, and he was made to play hockey with his injured eye. When I rushed to defend him and demand answers, every parent's fear came true. My legitimate concerns were brushed aside, and the adults involved took their disgruntled reactions out on Noah.
Sometimes, without anyone meaning for it to happen, disgruntled people take something that should be small, and let it fester and spread. A whisper here, "It's not my fault," and a quick reaction there, "Noah, why are you so much trouble?" becomes a louder opinion than anyone realizes. And for a child in a small school, it can become a different kind of preconceived notion altogether. And it can hurt them. For longer than just one school year.
By the time Noah was in fifth grade, standing on a stage at Shea's Smith Theatre in Buffalo, singing, "...let's fight the dragons..." with an amazing new theatre family who showed him the same love his real family feels for him, school had become a dark place for him. Standing on that stage, Noah finally felt like he could be the hero of his own story...thanks to something astonishing that happens in theatre. People from all different worlds come together and create a brand new world. They take something totally made-up and make it real for everyone there. They made it real it for Noah.
To the cast and crew of Big Fish, thank you for putting magic in Noah's heart. Thank you for reminding him that he matters, and that not just his parents think so. Thank you for showing him he truly can be and is a hero, not a dragon. You rekindled the fire inside him that was there when he was born, but was in danger of going out. You'll be glad to know that we switched his school--again, quite a massive decision for parents to make, but boy--did it make all the difference.
And now, here we are. Noah will go to a new school, and he and his dad and I want so much to make sure it's the best place to help him keep on HEROING through his life. A line from that song--the last line, in fact--rings on repeat in my head. "So I'll fight the dragons...'til you can." Four years from now, when Noah is getting ready to graduate from high school, I hope we will look back on today and it will be a nice memory that reminds him how much we've always loved him. But right now, I just hope that he and his dad both realize they are fighting this dragon together.
