My Life as a Furry Red Monster - Kevin Clash [59]
Well, I started making money as a puppeteer when I was twelve. I had gigs on two local children’s television shows while I was still in high school. I was earning more than I would have by delivering newspapers, mowing lawns, or babysitting, and I was having fun. I was also out there in the real world of adults and business, and if that’s not learning, I don’t know what is. For me, not going to college was the right choice, though that’s certainly not the case for every young person.
We go to school to learn—from our instructors, from our books, from each other. And at some point, we begin to listen to another teacher: our dreams. We think about what could be, what might happen once we’re all grown up, what we might be able to do with our budding talents or our latest interests.
Dreams are fragile things, but when they’ve been bolstered by the support of parents and teachers, and reinforced with early success, they can withstand the skeptics and take flight. When I was a kid, my dad and I spent a lot of time together building things, and I can’t help but think of this metaphor: Kids are the architects of their own dreams. I know that I was.
That doesn’t mean that children don’t need an adult’s help in making those dreams a reality. You already know what my parents did for me. But if you weren’t there helping to build that solid foundation, don’t come in with a wrecking ball later when you think the building is tilting too much. Maybe you were too busy when your child was learning how to draw. Maybe he wanted the building to tilt that way.
You can teach your children all the basics and then some, and they will turn right around and use their knowledge in wonderful, powerful ways you can’t even imagine. That’s the beauty of learning. But it can be hard to resist pulling on the reins and, at some point, steering kids away from what they want to learn to what you think they need to know to be successful. “Oh, no, he’s just spending way too much time thinking about airplanes and not enough learning his math.” “All she draws are pictures of houses and buildings, no people.” Maybe he really will be a pilot; maybe she’ll be an architect, or a famous artist. You just never know—but your child does.
I’m glad that Shannon shares my love of drawing, sculpting, and making things. I also know that I’ve learned from her along the way. That point was driven home when I was asked to speak at her school for show-and-tell.
I couldn’t help but flash back to my Russia report days as I sat in the classroom waiting my turn. Shannon’s growing up now, and image is important to her, so when I walked up to the front of the room with Elmo, she came up with me. Smart kid. While I was talking, I kept hearing “No, Dad. Tell them about…” and a few other instructions to steer clear of anything too personal that might embarrass her. I learned a little bit about how Mr. Noodle must feel. That’s okay. It was just another reminder that kids are teachers, too.
THE ELDERLY LADY had lost everything. In 2005, Hurricane Katrina took her home, her furniture, her food and clothing, all her possessions—including one of her most valued ones, her plush red Elmo. She was very sad that her “buddy,” as she called him, had been lost. She had spoken to him daily, and now he was gone, too.
When Donna Chandler, the vice president of Global Outreach at Sesame Workshop, heard this story (the storm victim is the aunt of a reading specialist whom Donna has worked with), she immediately sent her a replacement. Eventually the woman