I kind of knew it was going to be a disaster as soon as she put the car in drive. As a parent, you just know your kid. And I could tell that, for all the months of practice, this moment of pressure might be too big for her. She got visibly nervous listening to the proctor’s instructions, and once she made her first mistake, it was hard for her to recover and regain her confidence. Here’s how it all went down…
After months of preparation and hours behind the wheel (day and night, in good weather and rain), it was finally time for my daughter to take her road test. Just like when I taught the girls how to ride a bike, potty trained each of them, and, less successfully, taught them how to fish, I take pride in coaching my girls through their development. Maybe it’s the teacher in me, or maybe it’s what I wish I’d had growing up, but these are exactly the kinds of learning experiences I’ve always wanted to lead. In some ways, I saw this test as the culmination of her preparation and also a reflection of my job as her coach. Was she ready? We were about to find out.
As DMV visits go, it started out innocently enough. We arrived early for a 3:40 road test appointment, and it wasn’t until 4:45 that we were escorted outside to begin. When my daughter asked how long I usually wait at the DMV, I told her to consider this a short wait. Honestly, we got in and out pretty quickly. Still, some things confused me too. For instance, why would they take her license photo before she’d even passed the test? It seemed premature, and I wonder if it fostered a false sense of expectation. Several times while we waited, as we were called up for one pre-test item after another, she remarked that the longer we waited, the lower her expectations got. Either she was relaxing (which might have been a good thing) or she was letting her guard down (which could be dangerous when she needed to stay focused).
Once we were outside, I encountered my first surprise. Surprise! As the parent, you’re actually going to ride in the car with your child during the road test. Back in my day (a phrase I immediately regret and find myself using more and more), the proctor rode with the driver while the parent waited anxiously back inside. That’s the way things are supposed to be done! Instead, they mounted a two-way camera on the dashboard and called my daughter’s phone to guide her through the instructions. I was told to sit in the front seat and not talk or coach in any way. Either one would mean an automatic failure.
The second surprise was the setup of the course. Everyone knows parallel parking and backing up are the hardest parts for a new driver. We used to give drivers a chance to work up to them, but not anymore. The closed course portion of the test starts with both. You get two tries at parallel parking and one at backing into a parking space. I wasn’t worried about her parallel parking. She’d practiced it plenty and done surprisingly well. But backing up? I knew that would be an issue.
At the start, the proctor gave her some vague instructions about stopping at each solid line before approaching the parallel parking section. I’m not sure what happened. Maybe she didn’t hear, or couldn’t see the white lines, but suddenly I heard the proctor say, “Riley, you’re not listening.” Yikes. Meanwhile, I’m sitting next to her in the passenger seat, trying to distract myself with anything to keep from intervening.
It got worse. She parallel parked mostly well (in under two tries), but I could tell she was still flustered about missing that first part. When the proctor told her to pull up and prepare to back in, she was taking deep breaths to calm herself down. Part of me was proud she was using the tools her mother and I have taught our girls to regulate themselves. Another part of me wanted to jump in and rescue her.
But it was too late. Her confidence was shot, and it was affecting her performance. This was one of those moments where I realized, in real time, I can’t always save them. As she backed up, it was clear she wasn’t going to make her mark. Once she realized it herself, she braked and paused, just long enough to hear the proctor tell her to pull forward and come back inside. We both knew what that meant. She didn’t even make it to the road portion of the test. Before we went in to face the proctor, I consoled my disappointed daughter and told her, yeah, failure sucks. But this isn’t the end.
Inside, she heard pretty much the same message from her proctor. She was an earnest Black woman who held her hand, shared her own story of failing her driver’s test multiple times before finally passing, and encouraged her to keep practicing and building her confidence until she was ready to try again. A day later, Riley came to me with a plan: she wanted to keep practicing and take the test again. Since then, I can confidently say she’s mastered the art of backing into a parking space, so I know she feels more prepared. Her next test is in two days, so we’ll see what happens.
As for me, I never stopped believing. Hopefully, in two days, she’ll see what I’ve seen all along.
She’s got this. And as for me, I just have to keep trusting that what we’ve poured into them will be a reservoir they can tap when I’m not in the passenger seat.
SDW3
