You can’t do times tables…..yet. You can’t do long jump…..yet. Your son isn't good at reading…..yet.
Such a small, insignificant word.
As a teacher, it’s significance is huge. It’s the Kindergarten child who walks into the classroom, expecting that they will walk out a reader on their first day. (Didn't you tell your kids? “When you go to big school, you will learn how to read!” Thus, they all walk in on that first day expecting to walk out reading War and Peace!) Of course, when the tears fall at the end of the first day because they can’t read, my response is always, “You can’t read….yet.”
It’s the child in my choir, who hasn't mastered the harmony that she needs to learn before the Creative Arts Night. It’s hard to sing something completely different to the person standing next to you! You haven’t mastered the harmony…...yet.
And now it’s my daughter. 12 years old, sitting her Inter Foundation Classical Ballet exam in 8 weeks and freaking out because she can’t do double pirouettes. After every class, she climbs into the car, happy with class, disappointed in herself because she can’t do double pirouettes.
No Gorgeous Girl, You can’t do double pirouettes…...yet.
It will come.
Work hard. Listen to your teacher. Learn from your mistakes. Persevere.
The power of this little word is phenomenal.
The word ‘yet’ changes the new mother who is struggling in that crazy newborn haze, that lack of sleeping routine, into a mum who can see the light at the end of the tunnel.
The word ‘yet’ changes the child who is struggling to master long division into a child who knows that if he works hard enough, he will get it. (It’s OK kid, no one ever got long division the first time round!)
And the word ‘yet’ gives the 12 year old girl, who is trying her hardest to prepare for her ballet exam, hope. Hope that she will master what she needs to, so that she feels confident when she walks into that exam room.
So, No beautiful girl.
You can’t do double pirouettes……..yet.