Difference Between Struggling and Settling

Last year, Tara Khaleesi overheard a conversation that had absolutely nothing to do with her and somehow managed to bring it home with her anyway.

Which, if you know my daughter, is very on brand.

She was in sixth grade when she overheard her dean talking to another student who was upset about a grade. The girl had gotten an 83 and was crying. Her dean was trying to comfort her and basically told her, “An 83 is not a bad grade here. This is a hard school. We teach above grade level. That 83 could be a much higher grade somewhere else.”

Kind. Reassuring. Probably exactly what that girl needed to hear in that moment.

The problem was, Tara heard it too.

And suddenly, in Tara’s mind, an 83 became perfectly fine.

That drove me insane.

Not because I think an 83 is some terrible grade. I don’t. If Tara studies, works hard, gives it everything she has, and gets an 83, then that is the grade she earned. We deal with it, learn from it, and move on.

What I cannot stand is settling.

There is a huge difference between saying, “I did everything I could and this was my result,” and saying, “Well, apparently this is good enough.”

Those are not the same thing.

Tara Khaleesi had never been someone who casually accepted doing less than she was capable of. She cared. She wanted to do well. Then suddenly, every time we questioned a grade, we got some version of, “This school is hard. The dean said an 83 here could be a 95 somewhere else.”

Honey.

He was not talking to you.

He was talking to another child, in another situation, who needed something completely different from him in that moment.

But Tara had taken that conversation and turned it into a defense strategy.

And she fought us on it.

She argued. She pushed back. She made her case like she was presenting before the Supreme Court.

And for a little while, she actually made me question myself.

Am I being too hard on her?

Am I expecting too much?

Am I turning into one of those mothers who only sees the grade and misses the kid?

Then I came back to what I actually believe.

No, I do not expect perfection from my daughter.

But I expect 100% effort.

I expect her to care.

I expect her to know what she is capable of and not deliberately lower that standard because someone gave another child permission to feel okay about a completely different situation.

We also make a great deal of financial sacrifice for Tara to attend the school she attends. We are very blessed to be able to give her that opportunity, and I never take that for granted. But it is still a choice we make very intentionally.

And during the school year, her main job is school.

I always try to make her summers extremely fun because she only gets one childhood. I want her to travel, laugh, stay up late, have ridiculous stories, make memories, and have summers she will actually remember when she is forty.

But when school starts, I expect her to show up.

That is the deal.

You get to enjoy the opportunity, but you also have to respect it.

So watching her become comfortable with “good enough” bothered me far more than the actual number ever could.

Fast forward to now.

She recently got a 94.

And she was mad.

A 94.

She was upset because she had made what she called a dumb mistake and knew she could have done better.

And I have to tell you, part of me wanted to celebrate.

Not because I want my daughter torturing herself over a 94. Absolutely not. I do not want her chasing hundreds like her life depends on them.

But I wanted her to care again.

That was the part I had been missing.

So instead of feeding the frustration, I reminded her of something she was not seeing.

Last year, the careless mistakes were sometimes bringing her into the 80s.

Now the careless mistake brought her to a 94.

That is growth.

That matters.

She needed to stop staring at the six points she lost and look at how far she had already moved.

And that is really the lesson I want her to learn.

I do not want her comparing herself to the smartest kid in the class.

I do not want her comparing herself to the kid who is struggling.

I do not want her comparing herself to anyone.

Compare yourself to yourself.

Were you better prepared this time?

Did you understand more?

Did you work harder?

Did you learn something?

Did you improve?

That is the competition.

Looking back, that overheard conversation taught me something too.

Sometimes adults say exactly the right thing to a child, and another child hears it and applies it completely wrong.

Context matters.

That dean was helping a student who was hurting. Tara Khaleesi heard reassurance and translated it into permission to lower her own expectations.

It took us a while to undo that.

And weirdly enough, seeing her annoyed about a 94 told me we finally had.

So yes, I am proud of the 94.

But I am much more proud that she cares again.

And now my job is to teach her the next part.

Care deeply.

Work hard.

Do not settle.

And when you grow, stop long enough to notice it.