I hope you all had a meaningful Rosh Hashanah and that this short week of school has gone well for you and for your child. I woke up this Wednesday morning feeling refreshed, renewed, and grateful for the opportunity that our Jewish calendar provided for reflection and creating intentionality in our lives. I was relieved that my children were returning to school and that we might begin to create some routine for the year. I felt in control as our day began at 6:30, as my three children prepared to go to their three separate schools. And then… the day actually began!
The phone call came from my 14-year old waiting on our corner at 6:57 for her school bus to the Bronx. “The bus didn’t come!” Gabriella frantically announced from her cell phone. The dispatcher assured her that a bus would come, and asked Gabriella and her classmates to wait on the corner for a new bus to retrieve them. Forty-five minutes later, after the bus still had not come, another student’s parent kindly drove the children to school. I prepared myself to call and “complain” to this bus company. I was prepared to share my strong disappointment, tell them how unacceptable it was for them to leave these kids stranded, particularly so early in the year. I was all ready to use my well-honed skills as an over-entitled, over-educated Upper Westside mother. I called the bus company and said, “I am Gabriella Ruskay-Kidd’s mother and I wanted to talk about what happened this morning.” And just as I was about to launch into my barrage of complaints the woman on the other side of the phone said, “We absolutely messed up and I am so, so sorry. We really handled this morning terribly and when we tried to fix our mistake we actually made it worse.” I was so disarmed by her candor and kindness, her apology and acknowledgment that I was rendered speechless! Her immediate acceptance of responsibility and genuine apology took all of the steam out of my self-righteous indignation. The conversation was then quite short – I told her that I appreciated her saying that and she reassured me that she hoped this would never happen again. She told me that she had spoken to my daughter who sounded like a lovely young lady, and I thanked her, then we hung up.
What a difference this bus dispatcher’s apology made to me. I was struck by this simple experience after having spent the past few days thinking about the ways in which I hope to change in the coming year and the power of reflection, repentance and renewal.
Just the night before, I had spoken to my kids about the ways in which I hope to grow and improve in the year ahead, and my 12 year old daughter, Emma, said, “I hope you don’t change. It would be weird if you never got mad and never did things wrong. It makes you real.” I assured her that I was in no danger of being perfect but that I do aspire to have fewer moments when I hurt their feelings or lose my temper. I would like to have fewer moments when I need to apologize. “Messing up and saying I’m sorry is normal,” Emma said again. I suppose that messing up and apologizing is normal, and when a person offers a genuine apology, it is indeed a good feeling. I learned from the bus dispatcher this week – she modeled what a non-defensive apology looks like. She did not explain herself, she did not ask me to see it from her perspective, she just said she messed up and she was sorry. I hope that in the coming year I will mess up less, despite my daughter’s preference to the contrary. But more, I hope that I can improve on my genuine heartfelt apologies.
Of course, just in case I was feeling a renewed sense of control on this day of beginnings, my son’s school nurse called just as I was arriving at the JCC to let me know that my 8-year son had vomited on the stairwell going to class and needed to be taken home for the rest of the day. I suppose it was another reminder that indeed we are not as in control as we might hope!
Wishing everyone a weekend of reflection, renewal and acceptance for those moment when we are not quite in control!
Ilana received her B.A. from Harvard College and a Master's Degree in Education from Bank Street College. She was born and raised on the Upper West Side of Manhattan and now lives there with her husband and three children.
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