Earlier this week I posted a story about how my wife and I use pop culture characters to teach our kids lessons. This particular story centered on Neville Longbottom from the Harry Potter series. We use him as the perfect example of courage. Well this morning, my 9 year old daughter had a chance to show some courage. Now I'm talking about a 9 year old so don't expect this to be a post about how she saved the driver of a burning car or even called 911 to save an elderly neighbor. This is a little story about the type of courage our kids have to call on every day of their lives. It was a little thing but it was still a test of her courage. In fact, since kids pretty much live in the moment, to her it probably seemed like the biggest test of her life.

The momentous occasion... park district basketball camp. 

My daughter isn't big into sports. She likes being on teams and learning new things. She loves her gym teacher and always comes home and shows us what he taught her that day. But we have no delusions of her earning any athletic scholarships. 

She has been looking forward to this camp all summer. All summer until 9:05 this morning that is. At 9:05, as we drove up to the basketball court at the local park, she and I noticed something at the exact same time. "Oh shit" I said in my mind. 9-year-old version of "oh shit" she said in her own. We were late, camp had started... and there were only boys on the court. 

I watch ESPN. I have seen the stories of little girls breaking ground and joining the all boy baseball league, wrestling or football team. Those stories are amazing! But they are quite rare. That's why they earned 6 minutes of coverage on ESPN. But that doesn't mean my daughter shouldn't be proud of herself for today.

As we walked up, she felt scared, she felt nervous, she felt embarrassed (basically all of the feelings that go along with being the "only" anything in a room). But she went out there and joined the boys. I told her I'd check on her in 1 hour. I did. She complained of being hot and bored... but not about being the only girl. She stayed. I'm proud. 

While I tried to kill the agonizing 60 minutes before I could go and check on her (I was picturing her sobbing on a bench wondering why I was so mean), I decided to pass the time by mowing the lawn. As I mowed, I thought about how incredibly hard it is to be the "only" in a room. The only girl. The only boy. The only minority. The only homosexual. The only Muslim. The only person with a disability. It takes great courage to be the "only". Being the "only" freaks out adults. Have you ever walked into a bar, looked around and noticed you are the only person dressed up? Did you stay? And that is clothes. Something you can change in an instant (maybe even in the car so you can go back). But how about when being the "only" is part of your identity? 

I'm not sure if everyone recognizes this, but everyday we ask kids to go to school, or daycare, or a sports camp and be the "only". And they do. Because they are strong. It can't hurt to tell them that you recognize this strength in them. I'm going to tell my daughter I recognize hers in about 10 minutes.