We had another orientation at work this week, this time meeting with the boss (also known as the head honcho, the guy who signs my paycheck, numero uno). We were to ask him any question we wished, and some people took this as an invitation to deep-six their careers. Others just brown-nosed (yeah, I'm looking at you, the one who asked if you could follow the boss around for the day), and yet others actually asked some decent questions. "Do you wear boxers or briefs" does not qualify as a decent question. And urban legend has it that the lady who asked that was greeted by security when she got back to her desk, and asked to get the hell off of the property within 5 minutes. But I digress...
One girl asked if the boss had any advice about life. And he listed some good points, like that the person you marry is the most important decision you'll make, as it influences everything else, and also to never start a business for the sole purpose of becoming rich. But he also said something that hit me. He said, "Love your children. Just don't worship them."
My a-ha moment, the lightbulb burning above my head. Isn't that what we've been doing? This idea that because we have more education, more money, more options, more of everything than ever before that our children should be the recipients of those riches. No one wants their child to suffer. But maybe the fine line between suffering and struggling isn't really so fine. Our children have more opportunities than ever as far as entertainment - computers, televisions, gaming systems, portable devices, you name it. But they are also the fattest of any generation. Our kids have access to more information than ever before. Then why are parents planning and executing science fair projects? We are so afraid of our kids not getting into the right college that enrollment in New York City for preschool-aged Mandarin classes have a two-year wait list. We are so afraid our children won't be the smartest in the class that kindergarten is ruled by worksheets, not recess.
Let's all take a collective deep breath. Before I started Britton in daycare, I was crying to my sister that Britton would be ignored, her every need not attended to immediately. And you know what she said? "It's good for a kid to have a toy snatched out of her hand." And she was (is) right.
Because life isn't fair, and not everyone shares, and people snitch and talk behind your back, and hard work isn't always rewarded, and sometimes it is who you know and not what you know, and good guys don't always win and bad guys aren't always punished.
And the hard part of parenting is raising a child to know this. I'm not saying that I'm going to hold Britton's hand on a hot stove to teach her about pain, but I am going to teach her that doing her best will always be good enough, even if it's not for someone else. And that she has to pick herself up when she's down, because there's not always going to be a cheerleader in her corner. She has to fail so that she can learn that it happens, that mistakes are made, and that she can overcome it and move on. And to hold on to the good feelings of success and to pat yourself on the back when there's no parade.
I have a favorite quote that was taped to my computer through all three years of law school. It now hangs on the wall of my cubicle, surrounded by my diplomas.
"Perhaps the most valuable result of all education is the ability to make yourself do the thing you have to do, when it ought to be done, whether you like it or not. It is the first lesson that ought to be learned and however early a man's training begins, it is probably the last lesson that he learns thoroughly.” ~ Thomas H. Huxley
And how will Britton truly learn that if I write her book reports or demand that her college professors let her do extra credit? Will she ever relish success if it doesn't belong completely to her? Will giving a child everything she desires make her love you more? Will praising every move a child makes give her confidence? Will not keeping score at tee-ball games mean there wasn't a winner, and a loser? No. So we've got to let them fall, let them fail, let them skin knees and be picked last and feel disappointed and feel rejected and cry and pout, and hope it happens less often than when they are happy. Because only then will our kids know what happy really is.
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