Tests and Papers

In school, skills and learning are measured in essentially two ways: papers and tests. People have different views on how they prefer to be evaluated, but the thing about tests is that once they are done, they are done. You can second guess yourself, of course, or perhaps arrange to take the test again, but there is no way to edit history. What you have written, you have written. It is a reflection of a moment in time.

Papers are a work in progress until the last second. When I was in college it didn’t occur to me that I could type a paper early and just leave it in my notebook until it was due.  I would always work on papers until the absolute last minute, obsessing over the exact words that would best communicate—and get me the A.

If parenting were a test, or a series of tests, few parents would consider themselves to be straight-A parents, and their kids would certainly concur. We all botch it more times than we care to admit, and even when we do well, it often feels more like pure luck than good prep work or an advanced skill level. In the long run, parenting is pretty much pass/fail. And fortunately most of us pass. We release our children into the world and stand back as they begin to function as adults.

Although there are certainly tests involved in raising children, parenting is more like writing. It’s ongoing, rather than a finite event. We can make decisions about what will be included, and when and how. Over time we know that there should be enough action to keep it interesting, but the right punctuation is important, too: places where you separate, or take a breath, or ask a question. And while you can’t change what has been written, it’s possible to reflect on what was and to learn from it, adding layers of understanding to the story.

Three of my kids are legally adults (and the other two THINK they are adults), but I still feel my work is not quite done. The editor in me wants to continue to go back, to add or subtract, to give them what they need to make them better, stronger, happier, more prepared.

Like a paper, parenting is never really “done,” even after it is turned in. My dad still offers advice and encouragement three decades after I moved out of his house, and I still hear my mother’s voice nearly thirty years after her death. I’ll remember her counsel (or worse, repeat it to my kids) and I will realize that this is all part of the same continuing story.

Parenting is hard work, and there are days when I think I would like to be done. But most days I’m glad I’m not. My role has evolved, and while in some ways it has diminished, in other ways it has never been more important. Although the framework of the kids’ stories is already established, there is still much that is unwritten. While it is their job to write it, the editor in me is sure to want to offer suggestions.