When looked up in a dictionary, persistence can be defined as a firm or obstinate continuance in a course of action in spite of difficulty or opposition. In simpler terms, persistence is never giving up no matter how hard something is or because you failed numerous times. But, is this something children can be taught?

I remember when I was about 9 years old and picked up my first baseball. My dad had bought me my first glove took me into my back yard and proceeded to teach me how to play baseball. We started off with catching. Numerous throws and I couldn’t catch any. I remember feeling horrible like I would never get it. I kept asking my dad to go inside but he would tell me “No, we’re going to stay outside even if it takes all night. You’re going to do this, you’re going to get this.” It wasn’t until what felt like the 100th time that I actually caught one! The excitement and joy I felt in that moment was remarkable. After so many failed attempts and begging my dad to go inside I did it. If it wasn’t for my dad telling me not to give up, to keep trying, that I will get it , I would’ve gave up after the 15th try.

An article called “Persistence is learned from fathers, says study” it is stated that fathers with more authoritve parenting (parents who allow their kids to explore and make decisions with their own reasons) produced children who were more likely to develop persistence. “When held accountable in a supportive way, mistakes do not become a mark against their self-esteem, but a source for learning what do differently” says Paul Miller (Conley, Mikaela. “Persistence Is Learned from Fathers, Says Study.” ABC News. ABC News Network, 15 June 2012. Web. 09 Mar. 2015.), associate professor of Psychology at Arizona State University. When being supported and told you’ll get it next time rather than being slammed and called names it can really help a child to persist and try again.

There has been many times where I have watched my niece (5) and my nephew (9) get down on themselves and want to give up, especially when it comes to homework. Instead of joining in and talking down on them as well whether it be their mom, grandmother or myself there is always someone there to encourage them to not give up and keep trying until they get it.

Grit (courage and resolve) is also being seen as a key to persistence as said in the article “Does teaching kids to get ‘Gritty’ help them get ahead?” It is what drives one kid to practice at something over and over until they get it right while another quits after the first failed attempt. “ This quality of being able to sustain your passions and also work really hard at them, over really disappointingly long periods of time, that’s grit” says Angela Duckworth,( Smith, Tovia. “Does Teaching Kids To Get ‘Gritty’ Help Them Get Ahead?” NPR. NPR, 17 Mar. 2014. Web. 06 Mar. 2015.) a psychology professor at the University of Pennsylvania who coined the term “grit”. Although grit hasn’t been proven to be taught I believe it can be. Having grit is just the same as being persistence and showing children everyday how you have grit or are persistence will likely rub off on them.

As most children follow by example I believe persistence can be taught if done appropriately. Encouraging children to never give up and to push forward no matter how tough it gets, listening to them rather than bashing them are ways children can be taught persistence. The more persistent children we create hopefully will result in a better future for every single one of them.

 

 

8:51pm on June 8, 2006 my life as I knew it was over. I was sitting on the rocking chair in my living room when my mom came home and blurted out in tears “Dad didn’t make it.” Immediately my eyes filled with tears as I screamed in agony. I could barely catch a breath when my mom came over to try and calm me down. The only person who could comfort me, the only person I wanted to comfort me, was my dad and he couldn’t.

The first week of being “fatherless” was the worst week of my life. My dad died a couple days before father’s day and just 10 days shy of his and my mom’s 30th wedding anniversary. It was a really rough month for all the Arruda girls. I didn’t go back to school to finish the year I didn’t want to be treated any different. My friends who knew about my dad’s passing didn’t really know how to talk to me. I mean how do 11 year olds talk about death? My 2 best friends would try and get me to remember the good times. We would laugh back at things my dad has done like this weird dance he had to a Geico commercial and his perfect impression of the Goofy laugh. It made me feel a little better but then the laughing would stop and I would go back to being sad.

Summer ended and school started back up which meant soccer was starting. This was something me and my dad bonded over. He would bring me to all my games and practices, cheer me on from the side line ( he would literally run up and down the field with us), he was the ultimate “soccer dad”. With my dad gone and my mom to busy with work or cleaning up the house, I really started to resent my dad for dying. I hated being the kid that had no one to support them. All this built up anger in me affected me academically. I began to act out in school and just neglect to do any work. I was suspended 5 times that year for “disrespecting” teachers. It wasn’t until the end of 8th grade where I got a rejection letter from Diman that I knew I had to change something.

When I started high school I was still bitter at the fact that my dad was really gone. Come sophomore year something clicked in my head. I was motivated to become the person I knew my dad wanted me to be. Someone he would be proud of. I got my A game on and made the honor roll that year. We all know with highschool comes drama and boys something I was never to familiar dealing with. A lot of boys would try to get to know me but I would just push them to the side. How was I supposed to know who was good or bad with out a father to judge? I had been so terrified of letting someone in or allowing someone to care about me that it wasn’t until my senior year that I actually gave someone a chance ( one of the best decisions of my life). My boyfriend of almost four years now has given me a little bit of life back to me that I had once lost.

Senior year ended and on my dad’s 6th anniversary I walked across the stage and recieved my diploma. I could actually feel him there during the entire ceremony. When my name was called to recieve my diploma, friends and family were all there to yell and cheer me on. I flashed back to the moments he would be at my games yelling and cheering me on and for a short while it felt like my dad was never gone. I knew my dad would’ve been so proud of me and it felt good to end this chapter and perceed to start an even better one.

November after graduation I found out I was pregnant. Scared, nervous, excited, my mind was full of so many emotions. I knew if my dad was alive he would have been so disappointed in me, that his baby girl was going to be a teen mom. My mom hardly spoke to me for seven months but on July 31st everyone fell in love. I know my dad would have too. Along with my dad’s passing helping me to push forward and do good for him, Audrey has really helped with getting me motivated to push through any obstacle. Now I didn’t just have a dad to make proud I had a daughter.

Wanting to make both of them proud I went back to school for Medical Assisting in which I recieved my certificate this past October. I paid for school, worked and provided for Audrey all on my own. I am now back in school persuing to become a Registered Nurse. This is something I know my dad would have been extremely proud of.

Now that Audrey is older (1 1/2) it is a lot easier to help keep my dad’s memory alive and not in a place where it only made me sad. Sometimes we go threw old photos of my dad and she can point out which one is her Grampy and she’ll even give him a kiss. We have a stand by the stairs in my house with a photo of my dad along with a small tree that my mom will decorate with lights for each holiday that passes. I live in front of the cemetary that my dad is buried in and in the summer I bring Audrey to go see him and she’ll play with the cars ( he was a huge nascar fan) by his grave and make sound affects. It is such a bittersweet feeling to watch her play by his grave side.

Nine years has past and a lot has changed from being that 11 year old fatherless child to the 20 year old motivated to make her father proud woman. Losing a parent is extremely difficult to over come. There are some days where it is extremely hard especially when I think about the future and how he will never get to walk me down the isle when I get married or how I’ll never have a father daughter dance. I just have to think of all the cheering he did for me and imagine he’s still is doing so from Heaven. When he first past I thought my life was over. It took so much for me to move foward and to motivate myself to do good for him. He may be gone physically but I am determined to build the life he could have only dreamed of for me.

 

This article explained in depth how fathers have an important parenting role to teaching Persistance.

Notes:

Fathers who used authoritive parenting (listening to child, providing love, granting autonomy and emphasizing accountability) were more likely to have kids who developed Persistance.

Dads who used a more harsh and punishment based had less persistent kids.

Because of social acceptance and expectations fathers are a big importance to their children’s self-regulation and self-esteem

Fathers with authoritive parenting allowed children to take accountability but the freedom to make their own choices and mistakes while reminding them to “stick with it”

Being supportive of mistakes allows kids to see what to do different rather than kill their self-esteem.

Fathers typically show “hard” values like leadership determination and overcoming adversity while moms showed “soft” values consisting of empathy,  support, and caring.

It feels as if it was just yesterday my dad was sitting on the couch. I was just about ready for bed as he called me over. “Don’t worry about tomorrow, Daddy’s going to be fine. I love you.” he said. He gave me a kiss and sent me off to bed.

It was June 6 2006, also known as devil’s day. I was 11 in the 6th grade and about to lose the only man I have ever loved and I didn’t even know it. My dad went in that morning for vascular surgery on his legs, a common procedure for surgeons. My sister picked me up from school that day as we went home and waited for my mom to call.

Finally the phone rang at about 3:30pm. “Everything went good. He’s in the recovery room resting up now. You guys can come see him in a little if you’d like.” my mom said. Later that evening my two sisters went up to go see my dad but I stood behind. The thought of seeing my dad lying in a hospital bed scared me.

June 7, the next day, everything took a turn for the worse. The Dr’s had to stick a tube down my dad’s throat to help him breathe because he was having a hard time to doing so on his own. His organs slowly started to shut down.

June 8, I had a baseball game that my dad would normally attend to cheer me on. It was sort of our thing, I would play sports and he would come to all my games and practices. I wanted to keep my mind distracted from the fact that I was losing my dad so I went. We won the game and I received the game ball but something just didn’t feel right. I couldn’t help but feel sad that my dad wasn’t there. One of my teammates walked up to me and asked “what’s the matter?” my reply “my dad’s dying okay?” and I walked away.

Later on around 930pm I heard my mom pull in the driveway. I ran upstairs to pretend I was sleeping, I didn’t want to hear what she was about to say. When she started to yell my name from the bottom of the stairs to come down in a shaky voice, I knew it was coming. I went downstairs and saw my sister and I’s God mothers sitting on the couch. I sat on the rocking chair and my mom blurted out in tears “Dad didn’t make it.”

In that moment my world came crashing down. Tears pouring down my face as I screamed in agony. The only person who could comfort me, the only person I wanted to comfort me, was my dad. I cried for days.  When it was time for the wake and funeral I was all cried out. Many of my aunts and uncles were surprised to how well I held myself together but in reality there were no more tears left in me.

Getting accustomed to “not having a dad ” was the hardest thing I think I will ever go threw. He was my best friend. We did everything together. He brought me to school every morning, taught me how to play soccer and baseball, helped me with my homework every night and even cooked dinner all the time. Getting all that ripped right out of my hands without any warning was something no body should have to through.

Almost nine years later the pain I felt when he passed is still persistent.  There are some days where it is overbearing and I just shut myself out. The feeling of never getting the chance to have a father daughter dance,  him teaching me how to drive, watching me graduate or even walking me down the isle never goes away. It hurts to think about my daughter growing up without her grampy. The regret I have for never going to see him and getting the chance to say goodbye haunts me. I wonder everyday what life would be like, who I would be if he were to still be here. Many people tried to comfort me and would tell me “it’ll all get better in time. Time heals all wounds.” But the reality of it is, time doesn’t heal all wounds, you just get use to the pain being there.

My hometown was a crowded place to grow up.

– My hometown was filled with many stores, restaurants, parks, schools and houses.

Laci had a rather eccentric style.

– Laci liked to wear bright green skinny jeans with highlighter orange socks over them along with a bright yellow sun shirt to match.

Mr.Brown was the worst teacher I’ve ever had.

– Mr.brown always came to class with a mean mug on his face,  sat in the corner at his desk and stood quiet the entire class.

The room seemed very messy.

– The room was scattered with shoes and clothes all on the ground with left over food from 2 weeks ago.

 

 

The speakers are going off “CODE BLUE, CODE BLUE”. Her pager keeps beeping.  Her heart starts racing, adrenaline pumping as she’s running to room 224. She sees a room full of nurses watching as one is giving chest compressions.  She grabs the AED and places the pads on the patient’s chest. The AED charges. She yells “Everybody stand back!” as she’s about to press shock. The AED shocks the heart. Everyone is silent. “Beep. Beep. Beep.” The machine starts to go as it indicates a normal sinus rhythm.  She gives a huge sigh of relief as she says “Good job team. We almost lost him.”

Hello readers! My name is Justine. I am 20 years old and a mommy to a 1 ½ year old little girl. I have a job, which I hate but it puts the food on the table and the clothes on my back.. I previously attended Health Care Training Center located here in Fall River and received my certificate in Medical Assisting. Unfortunately, finding a job as a MA isn’t that easy. Which is why I’m attending BCC to further my education in hopes of becoming an RN

Math has always been a subject that just came easy to me. But when it comes to writing, the subject and I have a love hate relationship. For the most part it is hate. I’m hoping by the end of the course I might love it if possible love it but who knows.

There has never been a particular piece of writing that I have been proud of. That might be because ever since I can remember in school we were told what to write about (like book reports). I have never had the pure freedom to write about what really interests me.

Most of the writing that I do is when I’m writing out my grocery list. I try to avoid writing as much as possible. I feel the lack of good writing experiences has made it extremely hard for me to put my thoughts onto paper. I have often found myself having writers block. In the fall semester of 2012 I was placed in an English course and dropped it after the first day. It was a long class, 7pm-930pm and the atmosphere just wasn’t right for me.

The idea of writing on a blog although, intrigues me. I’m going to try and go into this English course with a more positive attitude. With big hopes that I will be able to express myself more freely with my writing.