By Lisa Hartwig
Lisa is the mother of 3 gifted children and lives outside of San Francisco.
I have a new year鈥檚 resolution. This year I am going to give up on being the parent I want to be. I am going to be the parent my children need. I know what my children need: my husband showed me.
My 鈥渟chooling鈥� happened on a weekday after I picked up my 16 year old from the BART station.
鈥淗ow was your day?鈥�
鈥淣ot very good. When dad get鈥檚 home, I need to talk to both of you.鈥�
鈥淚s it serious?鈥�
鈥渊别蝉.鈥�
I coaxed him to tell me what happened. He refused. He silently wiped away tears on the drive home.
Later that evening, my husband and I sat on his brother鈥檚 bed as he told us what happened at school. I am going to spare you the details because I don鈥檛 think it鈥檚 fair to my son. It is only important that you know that he said something really stupid. This stupid thing took on a life of its own once it was passed from student to student in his small high school. He was called before the Dean of Student Life and told that she would be investigating the incident. If the facts warranted, he could be sent to the Disciplinary Committee and face suspension.
By the time we sat down to discuss what happened, he had moved from sad to angry. He insisted that the investigation was unfair. His friends said they had heard worse stories with no consequences for the offending student. He was in full defense mode, invoking the moral judgment of other 16 year olds.
I could feel my face harden and my posture stiffen. How could he refuse to take full responsibility? How could he justify his behavior? I was imagining my parental lecture when my husband stood up.
鈥淚鈥檓 so sorry; it sounds like you had a really bad day. Would you like a hug?鈥�
I was stunned. With my hard face and my clenched jaw, I watched my son walk into my husband鈥檚 arms and relax. Then my son admitted that he had been really stupid. He was very sorry.
In that moment, I realized that the smartest thing I did was remain silent. My highly anxious son spent the day beating himself up and couldn鈥檛 face his parents鈥� judgment when he got home. So, he decided to assume an offensive position to protect himself. He didn鈥檛 need a lecture. He needed a momentary break from his harsh inner critic.
My children are . They have easy access to the harsh critic that permanently resides in their heads. I may have even unintentionally helped give voice to these criticisms. I jumped on every 鈥渢eaching moment鈥� and provided commentary to their disappointments. I like to think of myself as a wise and fair role model, full of helpful comments and inspiring sayings. Instead, I was feeding the beast. How does 鈥測ou鈥檒l do better next time鈥� provide new insight to a child who is disappointed with his English final? How could 鈥渟ee what you can accomplish when you put your mind to something?鈥� provide any additional satisfaction to a child who is struggling with procrastination?
The anxiety that comes with my children鈥檚 sensitivity and perfectionism will forever do the dirty work of telling them that they are doing something 鈥渟tupid.鈥� My job is to remain silent, knowing that they will inevitably access the years of lectures I have delivered on every imaginable topic. I need to have faith that I鈥檓 in their head somewhere.
So my new year鈥檚 resolution is to talk less and give more hugs. And by the way, he was right. There was no violation requiring a visit to the Conduct Committee. His comment was just plain stupid鈥攏o further commentary necessary.