Is anyone feeling the end coming close? I know that I start suddenly to feel a sense of restlessness just when I need to face an end. Somehow it is easier to ignore the impending ending by focusing on summer, focusing on the rain, focusing on the busy-ness rather than mourning the end. What would it mean to really sit with these feelings of sadness, of loss, and of fear of separation? What would it look like to look right at the feeling of being afraid that next year might not be as easy, that next year my kids will be older, that things will change, and that the future is unknown?
Yesterday we had a wonderful gathering of alumni parents speaking about the transition to Kindergarten. They shared many important insights. But what struck me the most was how much endings and beginnings are felt by both the children AND the parents. Sometimes we feel it more, sometimes our children do. But there are two distinct processes taking place. I remember that last Spring I was feeling an enormous sense of loss as I contemplated my youngest graduating from the JCC. I confronted the reality of my “baby” emerging as a young boy and my role shifting as he moved onto Kindergarten. But my son, Daniel, did not feel so much at that time- nothing had yet changed for him. And while he could begin to consider this abstract transition ahead, his reality was still unaffected. However, this Fall, as I began to exhale as he settled nicely into his Kindergarten classroom, he began to feel the loss. He began to ask why I couldn’t work at his new school, why he couldn’t come back to the JCC, and why his best friends couldn’t join him in his new classroom. This new reality took many months to fully settle in. In fact, just this week Daniel explained, “I have new friends but Michael (his JCC friend) is still my best friend.” And he still eagerly awaits reports on all of the news at the JCC. He has reminded me that we can simultaneously move forward and make new roots and still feel tremendously grounded and connected to our old friends and places.
The second theme that emerges as parents reflect on new beginnings is the delicate balance they must strike as they watch their children struggle. For new beginnings inevitably require stretching. Parents wonder: should they call the teacher if their child is upset? How much do they advocate if their child is being bullied on the school bus? How do they know what is happening in their child’s new classroom or new school? I certainly urge and encourage families to feel that they are the primary advocates for their children. But we also must confront what Wendy Mogel refers to as “the blessings of a skinned knee.” Our children will stumble and fall. And our role as parents and teachers is not to guard them from falling. These figurative bumps and bruises will help them become resilient; the normal challenges will help them develop character. And as our children move to the next stage of life, they will confront new obstacles, new opportunities for stumbling, and also new opportunities for growing.
This weekend as you think about this school year ending and the summer ahead, I urge you to give yourself permission to have feelings separate from your child’s – to assume that you and they may NOT be feeling the same thing! You may be feeling sad while they may be feeling fine! You may be feeling relief that you don’t need to pay tuition next year while they may be feeling terrified about camp next month. You may be worried about whether your child will be in the “good” class next year while they may be wondering whether they will have a chance to play in the block area tomorrow! But the beauty of embracing your separateness is there is a whole lot more room for each of you. And if you can trust that your children are resilient and will recover from some skinned knees you can hopefully embrace the changes ahead.
Shabbat Shalom and Happy Memorial Day.
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