Big dreams are important for kids and parents alike

From today's Briefing:

My children have formally declared their college choices.

Cooper plans to attend the University of Michigan, the alma mater of his father, grandfather, great- grandfather and more. He says he’ll study some kind of science with the goal of being an engineer or inventor.

Katie has set her sights on the University of Texas, the alma mater of no family members as far as I know. She originally declared paleontology as her major but now is considering art. Or maybe both. She’d like to create art with artifacts she discovers. Preferably in Africa, though she’s worried about working in the heat.

They both plan to play an instrument in the marching band — Cooper, trumpet, Katie, flute.

Their prospective years of matriculation? Cooper in 2019, Katie in 2023.

Obviously, there’s lots of time to make different choices.

Some well-meaning folks tell Cooper that his choice is too expensive — out-of-state tuition at that kind of school will cost your mom a lot, they say.

After hearing that a few times, he recently told me that he had changed his mind. He’d choose a Texas school. He didn’t want to go someplace too expensive.

I firmly put my foot down.

“When the time comes,” I told him, “you choose where you want to go, the school that’s the best fit for you, and we’ll figure out how to pay for it.”

(I also added that he’d have to actually get accepted, as well.)

I explained that we shouldn’t set limits on ourselves. That a state school may eventually be the best choice for him but that he’s too young to rule out anything beyond the Texas border. That big dreams aren’t bad — they’re what push us.

After a few of these discussions, he’s turned his attention to Michigan again, without anxiety about tuition bills.

But I still find myself returning to the theme of no limits.

The movie Gnomeo and Juliet has sparked an interest in Shakespeare in our house. After we saw the movie together, I explained to the kids that the source material is more than 400 years old.

Then I decided that I needed to revisit the play, which I last read in high school. Too many details were fuzzy.

And I kept hearing “I feel pretty” in my head, which made me realize I was confusing scenes from West Side Story with Romeo and Juliet.

For the grand total of 89 cents, I downloaded all of Shakespeare’s works onto my e-book reader. I started reading the Capulet-Montague tragedy and immediately remembered: Shakespeare is difficult.

After visiting Shakespeare’s Globe (a reproduction of his famed theater) in London last week, Cooper and Katie wanted to learn even more. So we read a kid-friendly adaptation of Twelfth Night.

They wanted more.

I reminded myself of my “no limits” mantra, pulled out the original play and started reading Shakespeare’s actual words to my 5-year-old and 9-year-old.

It’s no easy task.

We’re getting bogged down with language like “he plays o’th’ viol-de-gamboys” and “love-thoughts lie rich when canopied with bow’rs.”

We stop, read again, wonder out loud. Sometimes we move on without really understanding.

It’s tempting to give up, to say that elementary-age children are too young for such rich literature. That middle-aged moms are too tired to decipher the text at bedtime.

But then I remember my own lectures of dreaming big, of not setting unnecessary limits, of pushing beyond ordinary. That pushes me to read a few more lines with the kids. And to finish before they leave for college.

Tyra Damm is a Briefing columnist. Email her at tyradamm@gmail.com.