Crowd Control to Apprenticeship
I read a post by a blogger recently about the years our boys are in now, somewhere between childhood and the cusp of teenhood. When they were toddlers and all hands on deck just to make sure they made it to bedtime in one piece, I used to imagine these would be the easy days. In many ways, they really are. Bonding and caring for them has been absolutely important, and I don't regret the years both Micah and I spent at home with them when they were small. But somewhere in the past year or so we've made a gradual but very distinct change in our parenting priorities. In many ways, I think they need us more now than they did then. There's still some physical parenting: splitting up arguments, pulling them down from trees, reminding them of table manners. But much more of our job these days involves teaching them to be adults. It's like we've shifted from crowd control to apprenticeship.
The blogger had four boys, and talked in glowing terms about the teenage years. It's probably what captured my attention, to be honest. What parent of teenagers--boy teenagers--talks about those years being "the best yet," or "my favorite so far?" Whatever this woman had to say, I was hooked. She must have gotten something right. As I read on, I discovered that the "something right" came in the very years we're living now, ages 7-12. She talked about how intensive those years had been. Her days, she said, had consisted of feeding, teaching, shopping, feeding, teaching, laughing, teaching, feeding again, teaching, and then teaching some more. It was constant instruction, constant conversation, constant training and correcting. It was setting boundaries and expectations, enforcing rules, encouraging honesty. All of it intense. All of it constant. All of it worth it. Because, she contended, it prepared them for the teenage years. By their teens, the boys who had had such intensive instruction and guidance were now ready to spread their wings a little bit. She described the high school years as years of increasing freedom, of loosening the grip. Wow.
To be honest, it's an approach my parents always took. When we were very small, the rules were clear. And they were without exception. It didn't matter if we were at home, visiting family, or out in public. There were clear guidelines, period. They were fair, but they were firm. My mom told me about their approach once when our own kids were just learning to toddle around, and she was a true believer in it. Do the hard work early, she insisted, and you'll be able to ease up as they get older. It'll be much harder to try to do it the other way around.
True wisdom.
It's the approach we've always taken in the damage and crowd control years. But I was a little unprepared for how much work there would be in these years. Sometimes another heartfelt conversation about self image or anger or friendships is the last thing on my to-do list. But we're learning, increasingly, what it means to be present and available. We're focusing on teaching, on taking the kids alongside and gradually showing them what it means to be an adult. We're modeling what we hope they'll learn and then giving them opportunities to try it out for themselves. It's intensive and constant and exhausting, but I hope and pray it's absolutely worth it. As we tucked the kids tonight--another two or three of those deep, soul-shifting conversations under our belts this weekend alone--I felt hopeful. This hard work is building relationships that, I pray, will withstand the hormone-saturated storms headed our way in the next few years. The conversations we've had, I hope, will counteract the harsh words and realities they'll face in the halls of middle school and high school. It will be worth every exhausting moment. Our job's not finished--nowhere close! But I think we're slowly starting to catch on to the apprenticeship nature of this season.
The blogger had four boys, and talked in glowing terms about the teenage years. It's probably what captured my attention, to be honest. What parent of teenagers--boy teenagers--talks about those years being "the best yet," or "my favorite so far?" Whatever this woman had to say, I was hooked. She must have gotten something right. As I read on, I discovered that the "something right" came in the very years we're living now, ages 7-12. She talked about how intensive those years had been. Her days, she said, had consisted of feeding, teaching, shopping, feeding, teaching, laughing, teaching, feeding again, teaching, and then teaching some more. It was constant instruction, constant conversation, constant training and correcting. It was setting boundaries and expectations, enforcing rules, encouraging honesty. All of it intense. All of it constant. All of it worth it. Because, she contended, it prepared them for the teenage years. By their teens, the boys who had had such intensive instruction and guidance were now ready to spread their wings a little bit. She described the high school years as years of increasing freedom, of loosening the grip. Wow.
To be honest, it's an approach my parents always took. When we were very small, the rules were clear. And they were without exception. It didn't matter if we were at home, visiting family, or out in public. There were clear guidelines, period. They were fair, but they were firm. My mom told me about their approach once when our own kids were just learning to toddle around, and she was a true believer in it. Do the hard work early, she insisted, and you'll be able to ease up as they get older. It'll be much harder to try to do it the other way around.
True wisdom.
It's the approach we've always taken in the damage and crowd control years. But I was a little unprepared for how much work there would be in these years. Sometimes another heartfelt conversation about self image or anger or friendships is the last thing on my to-do list. But we're learning, increasingly, what it means to be present and available. We're focusing on teaching, on taking the kids alongside and gradually showing them what it means to be an adult. We're modeling what we hope they'll learn and then giving them opportunities to try it out for themselves. It's intensive and constant and exhausting, but I hope and pray it's absolutely worth it. As we tucked the kids tonight--another two or three of those deep, soul-shifting conversations under our belts this weekend alone--I felt hopeful. This hard work is building relationships that, I pray, will withstand the hormone-saturated storms headed our way in the next few years. The conversations we've had, I hope, will counteract the harsh words and realities they'll face in the halls of middle school and high school. It will be worth every exhausting moment. Our job's not finished--nowhere close! But I think we're slowly starting to catch on to the apprenticeship nature of this season.
