This week’s life lesson came like a slap in the face.

I lost my cool. So dramatically in fact, it was Oscar-worthy. The wheels fell off, springs boinged out, my head spun round as steam issued from my ears. I ran the full gamut of cool-losing — from offensive ogre to petulant child mid-tantrum.

All, ironically, in the name of showing my six-year-old child ‘how to do things properly’.

Homework: I never particularly liked it when I was at school. I like it even less now. And suddenly my child seems to be bringing home a lot of it this year. I expect him to sit quietly at the kitchen counter, concentrate and do it ‘properly’. He begins to fidget, takes his books under the table and gets distracted by anything in reach.

Last Wednesday, doing a maths assignment, he was all over the place. The task was to find different sums to equal the same value. I can see he’s got one wrong, and is headed for a second, so I dive in. He is looking at me blankly. I’m talking at him, getting more and more frustrated by the vacant shaking of his head. I ask him how he is going to find the difference between 3560 and 9999 and he starts to count on his fingers before drifting away into a daydream, eyeing up a catalogue sitting on the counter.

Cue mummy meltdown.

I gave in to my frustration. I saw him recoil as I slammed down the pencil, crumpled up the catalogue and threw it toward the trash can, and bellowed at the top of my voice: “Well, if you’re not interested in learning…”, “How do you expect to…?” “Can’t you see …? You should …”

He finished the last sum correctly, got down from the table and ran to his room. I burst into tears.

Rule number one of coaching: Ask, don’t tell.

I wouldn’t presume to tell a client what action steps to take. Questions instead, help them process their information and discover creative options. People have to own the solutions they come up with for themselves, or else they don’t stick.

Yet I tell my child what to do, most of the time.

I prod, push, steer and impose my expectations, my values and beliefs on my child in a way I wouldn’t dream of doing to anyone else and until now, I’ve never really stopped to realise it.

Of course children need help, they’re pretty new to this planet and are learning for the first time — and sometimes even the hundredth time for some of the practical things that just seem to slip from their minds (unlike the names for a bazillion Pokemon, or the like, that magically stick there like glue).

But while being told what to do may build habit, it doesn’t necessarily create understanding. I am not trying to raise a robot, but a caring, emotionally intelligent person who can think for himself.

This approach may take more time, patience and probably some trial and error, but as empathy and self-confidence develop, how much more meaningful to be acting out of genuine authenticity, than guilt or rote?

It turns out that trial and error is, in fact, vital to building intelligence. Accepting making mistakes is key to developing a ‘growth mindset’ — a current buzzword based on a concept derived from years of research into how we learn.

Sal Khan, founder of web-based education movement The Khan Academy, blogs about what a growth mindset is and its importance. He explains that “neural connections form and deepen most when we make mistakes doing difficult tasks rather than repeatedly having success with easy ones. What this means is that our intelligence is not fixed, and the best way that we can grow our intelligence is to embrace tasks where we might struggle and fail … the brain grows most by getting questions wrong, not right”.

Wish I’d read that before last Wednesday. I did the very opposite of all the suggestions for fostering a growth mindset. But my almighty ‘struggle and fail’ meant that at least I was learning from this homework. It revealed a blind spot that I have been operating in for several years.

The (perhaps now obvious) realisations I’ve come to are: that my son deserves the same approach and respect for his process that I would offer anyone else. That I have to let him make mistakes in order to grow and improve. That MY way is just one way. That I can trust him to know his own mind. That I can offer help, but must wait to be asked for it, for it to be meaningful. And that the outcomes of a happy, confident, curious learner, are the ultimate goal.

Psychotherapist and parent educator, Elaine Heffner says, “the art of mothering is to teach the art of living to children.” That night, at least I taught the art of asking for forgiveness. I apologised. We talked about mistakes, how we all make them, and that we must learn from them. And we discussed some strategies that will hopefully prove useful for homework going forward.

Later that night, checking my in-box I saw an e-mail from his teacher, re: yesterday’s work. My heart sank. Was there a problem? The note, with the attached picture, read: ‘It’s not every day I have to look up vocabulary that a Year 3 child has used. Amazing work!’It’s time I give him a little more credit. It may take some practice to break my old habits: to let go and not try and protect him from mistakes … to let him learn his own lessons, even when they come (like this has been for me) the hard way.

It’s time I give him a little more credit. It may take some practice to break my old habits: to let go and not try and protect him from mistakes … to let him learn his own lessons, even when they come (like this has been for me) the hard way. Instead let me be his champion, cheering his efforts and growth from the sidelines.

Thank you to all the teachers out there, for the patience, dedication and enthusiasm they bring to our children’s education. And thank you to our wonderful children, for the education they bring to us right back.

Julia Pitt is a trained success coach and certified NLP practitioner on the team at Benedict Associates. For further information telephone 705-7488 or visit www.juliapittcoaching.com.