What did your child do that you weren't allowed to be proud of?

What did your child do that you weren't

allowed to be proud of? My

seven-year-old daughter, Emma, got

expelled from summer camp for

destruction of property. The camp

director's voice was shaking with rage

when she called me at work. Mrs.

Rodriguez, you need to come immediately.

Emma has completely destroyed our

community garden project that we've been

working on for 6 weeks. This is

absolutely unacceptable behavior. I left

my meeting and raced to Camp Sunshine.

My mind spinning. Emma had begged me to

sign her up for this expensive camp. As

a single mom working two jobs, the $400

weekly fee was a stretch, but she'd

promised to be good. When I arrived, I

found Emma sitting outside the

director's office, covered head to toe

in black soil. Her blonde hair streaked

with dirt. Her camp t-shirt was filthy.

And she had mudc caked under her

fingernails, but her chin was raised

defiantly and she wasn't crying. "Emma,

what happened?" I asked, kneeling beside

her. "I didn't destroy anything, Mom. I

fixed it." The director, Mrs. Patterson,

emerged with a tablet full of photos.

The before pictures showed a pristine

garden with neat rows of colorful

flowers arranged by height and type. The

after photos looked like a tornado had

hit, flowers uprooted, soil scattered

everywhere, plants relocated seemingly

at random. Six weeks of work, Mrs.

Rodriguez. The children were so proud of

their sections. Now look at this mess.

Other parents started arriving, their

faces showing varying degrees of anger

and embarrassment as they collected

their muddy, crying children. "I

recognized the Hendersons. Their

daughter Madison always wore designer

clothes to camp. The Johnson's who drove

the brand new Tesla. The kind of parents

who posted perfect family photos on

social media." "Emma, I need you to

explain what happened," I said quietly.

She looked up at me with those serious

brown eyes that always made her seem

older than seven. "Mom, they had this

stupid point system. Kids who followed

all the rules got to plant in the sunny

spots with the good soil. Kids who got

in trouble had to use the shady corner

where nothing grows." Mrs. Patterson

nodded approvingly. We believe in

rewarding good behavior and teaching

consequences. But Marcus got put in the

shade corner just because he stutters

and it takes him longer to answer

questions. Emma continued, her voice

getting stronger. And Aisha got put

there because she doesn't speak English

very well. And David got put there

because he's in a wheelchair and

couldn't help with some of the physical

activities. I felt my stomach tighten.

Go on, sweetheart. Marcus planted

tomatoes because his dad is deployed in

Afghanistan and he wanted to grow

something to send him pictures of. But

nothing grows in that corner. Mom, the

shade is too thick and the soil is

terrible because that's where they dump

all the old mulch. Emma's eyes started

to well up, but she pushed forward. His

tomatoes were dying. Every day he'd

water them and talk to them. And every

day they got smaller and sadder.

Yesterday he cried because he wanted to

make his dad proud. The other parents

were shifting uncomfortably now. Mrs.

Patterson's confident expression was

wavering. So what did you do, Emma? I

dug up all the pretty flowers from the

sunny spots and moved them to the shade.

Then I took Marcus' tomatoes and Aisha's

peppers and David's herbs and planted

them where they belonged in the sunshine

with the good soil. One of the other

mothers gasped, "Those were our

children's flowers." Madison spent weeks

arranging her section. Emma looked

directly at the woman. Flowers are

pretty, but vegetables feed people.

Marcus' dad is fighting in a war.

Madison's dad sells insurance. I had to

bite my lip to keep from smiling. Mrs.

Patterson was furious. Emma disrupted

six weeks of careful planning and

teaching moments about earning

privileges through good behavior. "What

happened to the plants she moved?" I

asked. Mrs. Patterson hesitated. "Well,

the flowers are actually doing fine in

the shade, and the vegetables in the

sunny spots are thriving." 3 weeks

later, I got a text from Marcus' mom

with a photo. Marcus was holding up two

massive red tomatoes, running from ear

to ear. The message read, "He video

called his dad today. These were the

first vegetables he's ever successfully

grown. Thank Emma for us." The camp kept

Emma's new garden layout. Mrs. Patterson

never mentioned the point system again.