As I’ve become a dad to two, I can’t avoid the overwhelming feeling of wanting to be enough for them.
One of my favorite films is “I am Sam.” The main character (Sam) has a learning disability which stunts his book knowledge to about seven years old. He becomes a dad to a little girl who, as she ages past seven, becomes much more intellectually capable.
During an opening montage, we overhear a series of relatively straightforward questions, “Where do snowflakes come from?” “Why is the sky blue?” “Why is the grass green?” Sam answers the best he could, but it’s clear he doesn’t know - or possibly understand - how to answer her questions.
This sequence kills me.
I know my abilities are only limited by the work I put in to grow and learn more every day. However, that may not be enough.
I may not be able to provide all the things that help my kids be better tomorrow than today, which scares me.
Conceptually, I’m okay with it. I understand that it’s counterproductive to limit my kids to my abilities, natural or otherwise. That doesn’t change how I feel about it.
My greatest fear is that I won’t teach them enough to survive the world. I can’t control any if not all of the threats they’ll face, but I can be a conduit to knowledge - to readiness.
But what if my knowledge isn’t enough? What if what I help them learn is the wrong thing? What if I’m the reason they suffer?
It's an irrational fear - I know. But, these are the things that run through my head.
The pendulum swings are wide. On one end, we have “fend for yourself;” on the other, we have “do it this way.” The first is liberating. The second is encompassing. But neither serves them entirely.
There’s a gray area in the middle. One that accepts their life as theirs to live, and that also provides a framework for making choices, learning to fish, and being a great human.
I don’t know what this gray area is, but I know that if this gray area didn’t exist, they wouldn’t become the people I hope they become: independent, responsible, thrifty, patient, ambitious and full of care.
They gain these traits through experience and perspective. Knowledge is for them to discover, but I (and many others) can give them the second: perspective.
One of my favorite films is “I am Sam.” The main character (Sam) has a learning disability which stunts his book knowledge to about seven years old. He becomes a dad to a little girl who, as she ages past seven, becomes much more intellectually capable.
During an opening montage, we overhear a series of relatively straightforward questions, “Where do snowflakes come from?” “Why is the sky blue?” “Why is the grass green?” Sam answers the best he could, but it’s clear he doesn’t know - or possibly understand - how to answer her questions.
This sequence kills me.
I know my abilities are only limited by the work I put in to grow and learn more every day. However, that may not be enough.
I may not be able to provide all the things that help my kids be better tomorrow than today, which scares me.
Conceptually, I’m okay with it. I understand that it’s counterproductive to limit my kids to my abilities, natural or otherwise. That doesn’t change how I feel about it.
My greatest fear is that I won’t teach them enough to survive the world. I can’t control any if not all of the threats they’ll face, but I can be a conduit to knowledge - to readiness.
But what if my knowledge isn’t enough? What if what I help them learn is the wrong thing? What if I’m the reason they suffer?
It's an irrational fear - I know. But, these are the things that run through my head.
The pendulum swings are wide. On one end, we have “fend for yourself;” on the other, we have “do it this way.” The first is liberating. The second is encompassing. But neither serves them entirely.
There’s a gray area in the middle. One that accepts their life as theirs to live, and that also provides a framework for making choices, learning to fish, and being a great human.
I don’t know what this gray area is, but I know that if this gray area didn’t exist, they wouldn’t become the people I hope they become: independent, responsible, thrifty, patient, ambitious and full of care.
They gain these traits through experience and perspective. Knowledge is for them to discover, but I (and many others) can give them the second: perspective.