On the Wings of a Dream

Friday, March 27, 2009

Page 15

AT THE SIDEBAR (Column)

On the Wings of a Dream

By J’AMY PACHECO

One of the hardest things about being a parent is figuring out when to encourage my child to attempt the impossible, and when to give advice that is purely pragmatic.

At first, it was easy. When she attempted her first steps on tiny feet, I held my arms out and assured her she “could do it.” Of course, she did.

When she started school, I realized that she was bright when I saw on the wall the paper rocket that marked her reading level. Most of the kids’ rockets were in a mass far back near the paper planet Earth. My daughter’s was all by itself, about to crash into the moon.

Since then, I’ve made it a point to tell her that anything is possible. She’s gone on to prove me right—at the age of 13, she’s got a resume that is far more impressive than anything I’d be able to put together.

If you asked me if I thought my daughter would sing alone on stage, I would have laughed. But she’s done that.

She has interviewed a television producer on film for a TV show; has written and produced a play and has had two books “published” with another on the way. Technically, her books were bound rather than published, but since each resulted in copies being placed in school libraries and on Grandma’s coffee table, she’s way ahead of me.

She’s brought home more perfect report cards than I can count, has rocked the charts in testing, won science and art awards, and has won cash awards for her writing. She’s even been a presenter at a business conference for adults, where she talked about the “soft skills” needed for success.

I mention these accomplishments to explain why it’s so hard for me to figure out what to do about her latest dream. She wants to star in a movie.

This isn’t the first time this wish has come up. A few years ago, she expressed the desire to play “Meggie” in the film version of “Inkheart.” Meggie is a motherless girl whose father has the unusual gift of being able to “read” people and objects in and out of stories.

She actually followed the film’s development online, and was devastated when she learned casting was to take place overseas. But it took several years to make the movie, so by the time it came out, she was over her disappointment enough to see the movie, which we both dubbed “okay.”

Last year, she became hooked on a book series written by James Patterson. Now, she wants to play the heroine, “Maximum Ride.”

She and her friends love the series, which is about a group—flock, actually—of mutant kids. The kids started out as science experiments, and were given bird DNA. They can fly, and have various other powers. It sounds strange, but the books are very good, and the stories seem almost believable.

The kids are led by a girl named Maximum Ride, who mothers them — when they’re not fleeing from mutants bent on destroying them.

My daughter and a friend are so enamored of “The Flock” that they made necklaces with metal wings as a tribute to Max and her flying friends. They love the stories.

Now, someone is making a film version, and my daughter wants to be Max. She probably could — though she’s almost as tall as me, at 13, she’s still thin enough that I can actually carry her. If ever there was a girl with a bird skeleton, it’s her.

She’s an excellent reader, great at memorizing, and wouldn’t hesitate to drop out of school for the opportunity to fly with Fang, Izzy, the Gasman, Angel and Nudge. I suspect she’d even leave home, if that was required.

The reality is that half the adolescent girls in the nation want to be Max, too. And I suspect that a percentage of them also have small frames, the ability to memorize—and actual acting experience.

Maybe it’s a mom thing, but I can’t see my daughter fighting off mutant hellions bent on destruction. Plus, she has a mouth full of metal that is straightening her teeth.

Every time I hear her say, “I’ll probably never get to be Max,” I want to say, “Figure out how to make it work.” But I know it won’t.

Now my task is to figure out where to draw the line between pointless encouragement, and cold reality.

Then again, in a world with flying kids, who am I to say what’s impossible?