海角大神

I鈥檝e been a father for nearly two decades now, but not until recently have I been invited to a performance that seemed designed to showcase my children's imperfections.

But that鈥檚 what happened when I attended one of my 13-year-old son Will鈥檚 concerts this summer, and it taught me a lot about what we can do to help kids embrace their limitations, then transcend them.

For the second year in a row, Will has spent his summer at the Governor鈥檚 Program for Gifted Children, a 7-week boarding camp for some of the best and brightest youngsters in my home state of Louisiana. Students there can study literature, art, science, and music, and a highpoint of the camp鈥檚 closing each year is a final show featuring all the young musicians.

But midway through the camp, when students have only been on campus three weeks, parents are invited to a public rehearsal for the final performance called 鈥淢idsummer Madness.鈥�

The intermediate show is called 鈥渕idsummer鈥� because of its timing, and 鈥渕adness鈥� because, given the newness of the material, it鈥檚 crazy to assume that the children are anywhere near ready for an audience.

But moms and dads get a big kick in seeing how their children are coming along, and the performers embrace the show鈥檚 not-for-prime-time sensibility. They learn to laugh at the mistakes they鈥檙e making before dozens of watchful eyes 鈥� and to understand error as the trial that touches us on the long march toward excellence.

The live-and-let-live spirit of 鈥淢idsummer Madness鈥� is liberating for Will and his campmates. They鈥檝e all been officially classified as 鈥済ifted鈥� 鈥� a label that, however flattering, can carry some pretty heavy expectations. Their peers 鈥� and quite a few adults 鈥� often assume a level of perfection from these youngsters that no child or grown-up can ever hope to meet.

鈥淢idsummer Madness鈥� allows these bright young people to forgive their flaws a little 鈥� and to overlook the mistakes in their friends.

When Will鈥檚 cello accidentally slipped across the tile floor during his classical music solo, for example, he simply smiled and asked to start over. Mild laughter floated through the audience, but there were, alas, no snickers. He casually reprised the piece 鈥� his phrasing far from ideal, as even he would admit, but a promising preview of how much better he鈥檇 be in the fullness of time.

鈥淢adness!,鈥� one of the instructors cheerfully shouted from the sidelines, repeating the mantra uttered each time a performer flubbed. The exclamation was meant to encourage rather than mock. It was recklessly risky, after all, to publicly play a piece of music you hadn鈥檛 mastered 鈥� but there was a thrill in it, too, a musician鈥檚 form of bungee-jumping.

Which is why, when Will鈥檚 brain went blank during his subsequent vocal rendition of the pop song 鈥淩adioactive,鈥� he merely smiled and called for help from the audience in remembering his lines.

I鈥檓 looking forward to Will鈥檚 final performance at the Governor鈥檚 Program 鈥� the one in which kids put on their Sunday best, then play with a polish that comes only from rehearsing for seven weeks, not just three.

But I鈥檒l always treasure 鈥淢idsummer Madness,鈥� a show that reminds us that our sons and daughters 鈥� and their parents 鈥� are still works in progress.