There is a town in Germany that is the home of over 100 art installations of cartwheeling children. There are statues of cartwheelers in parks, in fountains, hidden in the architecture of buildings, and imprinted in the sidewalks. The cartwheel has become such a prolific symbol of the city, there are tours you can take to see all 100 representations. If you’re up for it, you can also join the over 700 children that participate in the town’s annual cartwheeling championship where young people compete based on speed and skill as they cartwheel along the banks of the Rhine.
Although I’ve never been to the town of Düsseldorf, Germany, I feel an affinity to their celebration of the cartwheel. Lately, I feel like my daily life is a different type of cartwheel competition. My 8 and 10 year-olds cartwheel whenever they can and wherever they can: on the way down the hall in our house, over the 80 year old original hardwood floors, from the front door to the car, across the kitchen to retrieve a carton of milk from the fridge or just one more handful of pretzels that they promise won’t spoil their dinner, down the sidewalk on our way to piano lessons…you get the idea. The cartwheel is their preferred mode of transportation.
My thoughts swing on the pendulum of extreme annoyance to overwhelming gratitude. Dear God what I would give for a quiet house and OMG please make the pounding stop, to in just a few years the house will be silent and I know I will long for the sound of cartwheels and laughter. My cartwheeling competition sounds a lot like the mom please watch this again and just one more and how many do you think I can do in a row and mom pleeeeease watch this. In just a few short years, stillness will swallow our house, and I know I’ll be the one who wants to create a monument to cartwheels in an effort to savor every second of their childhood and my motherhood.
Just as elusive as childhood is the origin of the Düsseldorf cartwheeler. No one is quite sure exactly what caused it to be the town’s symbol, however all can agree that its meaning is all about communicating optimism and joy.
Mastering the cartwheel is a childhood rite of passage that I never experienced. I have memories of watching all of the neighborhood kids gleefully throw their bodies around; a summersault was as much as I could contribute. Up until a few months ago, I thought my oldest daughter and I would have this cartwheel deficiency in common. She turned ten this summer, and despite the gymnastics classes and the perfectly executed cartwheels of her younger sister, she had yet to figure it out. Her cartwheels were clumsy, full of bent legs, and had no resemblance to the Düsseldorfers. Watching her imperfect movement was endearing to me; in fact, I admired her willingness to continue trying, patience with herself, and belief that one day she’d get it. Or, if I’m being honest I felt comfort that she was like me: incapable of a perfect cartwheel. When was the last time I attempted something and continued to fail for years at a time without losing hope, confidence, or self-respect? I’m not sure it’s ever happened.
Entry to the cartwheel contest in our house has been a long time coming. It all began four summers ago when we took a different kind of leap and joined The Village School. Part of the Discovery Studio onboarding process was a series of challenges, including the challenge to choose something new to learn. My then six-year-old daughter chose to learn how to cartwheel. She documented her progress for a few days. After about a week of trying a few times each day she got discouraged. We called a friend whose daughter was a few years older and a talented gymnast, met them at the neighborhood park and she gave us some pointers. A few days later there was still not much progress. We watched at least twenty youtube videos titled “cartwheels for beginners” “cartwheels made easy” “cartwheeling 101” – nothing really helped transform the jumbled rotating motion into a crisp, clean, cartwheel.
She decided to give up and choose a different goal in order to complete the challenge for school, but she never gave up on the goal of mastering a cartwheel for herself.
Four years later, her last year as a part of Discovery before joining the middle school studio, something magical happened: she mastered the cartwheel. There she was, swinging two strong straight legs across her body and across our backyard, down the sidewalk, the hallway, and once again anywhere she went. The pride was contagious – not only could she finally do something that had come so naturally to her little sister – but she accomplished the goal on her own – it was hers to celebrate.
There is something we can all take away from her 4-year journey to master the cartwheel. Replace cartwheel with any goal a learner might set for themselves – she set her own goal and accomplished it on her own time. She trusted herself and had enough confidence to keep trying, regardless of how long it took. She spent over three years doing crooked cartwheels alongside her younger sister and friends who had mastered the skill without any shame or embarrassment. She owned where she was in the process. And even better, she owned her own joy when she finally found success. Mastering the cartwheel was a goal she was intrinsically motivated to reach.
I’m in awe of her persistence and even though I’m still cartwheel deficient, I’ve taken something of value from her process. Her journey is evidence that she is capable of so much. As she dismounts from Discovery Studio and vaults into Adventure, I know for certain there will be challenges ahead that she will be less excited to attempt. When those inevitable moments arise, as her parent I can remind her of the cartwheel and all of those moves she made on her journey to mastery: commitment to sustained practice, willingness to fail, acceptance of her limitations, seeking out help from experts, more practice, patience with herself, and most important, trust in herself. She believed she could, and eventually she did!
As parents these moments are gifts, in the sense that they provide such clear evidence that our children are so capable. And, like the residents of Düsseldorf, the cartwheel now has a whole new meaning to our family. More than its playful reminder of the fleeting optimism and joy of childhood, the cartwheel is a reminder of our children’s strength and our role in cheering them on as they go head over heels in learning and in life.
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