Several years back, Anna Quindlen published one of the more memorable essays on parenting I’ve read. Written after all three of her children had left home, she reflected upon the anxiety and worry that had accompanied so much of the journey of raising children, as she kept trying to figure things out. To make matters even more complicated, each child responded differently to different things.
So what did she learn? All the child-rearing advice in the world was not as important as learning from each child what he or she needed. Indeed, in spite of differences in approach, each child in the end learned to talk, walk, “go to the bathroom, zip up their jackets and move food from plate to mouth all by themselves.” Put another way, even the fussiest toddler sleeper eventually ends up as a teenager who wants to sleep until noon on the weekend.
So what was her biggest regret?
“The biggest mistake I made is the one that most of us make while doing this. I did not live in the moment enough…. I wish I had not been in such a hurry to get on to the next thing: dinner, bath, book, bed. I wish I had treasured the doing a little more and the getting it done a little less.”
In just a few days, we will celebrate the graduation of the Class of 2012. These 28 talented young 8th graders will walk across the outdoor stage and head off into the next exciting chapter of their lives. Some of them have spent 9 or 10 years at Hillbrook, the longest tenure they are likely to spend at any school during their lives. All of them are impressive and each has their own unique gifts. They are thoughtful, articulate, interesting young people, quick to ask questions, poised around adults, and, for the most part, comfortable and confident in their own skins.
Clearly, they all still have a lot of growing up to do, physically, intellectually and emotionally. Indeed, one of my favorite moments at graduation is listening to the speech from the high school senior who won the Hillbrook Award four years earlier. Seeing these soon-to-be-college students – only four years removed from their Hillbrook experience – reminds me of how much change still lies ahead for our graduates.
For parents, I know there is a bit of a paradox. Major milestones – whether it be the first day of school, the first lost tooth, crossing the bridge to 5th grade, or graduation all seem to sneak up on us, occurring long before we expect them. At the same time the day-to-day process of raising children can seem at times overwhelming, exhausting, and, sometimes even endless. I suspect there is not a parent who hasn’t had nights where they have felt at wits end, clueless about what to do, whether it involved trying to resolve the bed-time trials of a young child, the social turmoil of a 3rd or 4th grader, or the homework angst of a middle schooler.
I think the simple wisdom that Anna Quindlen tapped into in her short article is worth remembering. Raising children is unpredictable, often complicated, and occasionally destabilizing. There are no right answers and, ultimately, we can only do the best we can do, providing our children with a variety of opportunities, unconditional love and as much patience as we can muster on any given day.
Amidst the ups and downs, the daily grind, we don’t want to become so obsessed with getting it done that we lose sight of the process. As a school, we constantly remind students that it is the process – not just the final product – that is at the heart of real learning. Parenting is the same way.
In the middle of her essay, Anna Quindlen noted, “Raising children is presented at first as a true-false test, then becomes multiple choice, until finally, far along, you realize that it is an endless essay.” She also adds, “When they were very small, I suppose I thought someday they would become who they were because of what I’d done. Now I suspect they simply grew into their true selves because they demanded in a thousands ways that I back off and let them be.”
Ultimately, the essay is being written by our children, not by us. We get to be the editors, but we need to use our red pens wisely.
I wish everyone a restful and restorative summer. Savor these moments.