Looking Back, Looking Forward

I often joke that I only teach the fifth grade because, past the age of eleven, I have no idea how to connect with students. Perhaps I am a big kid, forever ten years old. Given my affinity with children, my original plan was to become a Kindergarten teacher (or professional clown). I feel comfortable around children; playing games, making messes, and laughing all come natural to me. As I grew into adulthood, I learned that I have an exceptional talent for soothing a crying baby and calming down a tantruming toddler. When my own children aged out of elementary school, my wife had a much easier time relating to them than I did. When they were pushing for adult independence and more responsibility, I was trying to baby them. My wife loves seeing our children grow into little adults. Meanwhile, I keep looking at photo albums, nostalgically recollecting the days when my children were little. I miss changing diapers and playing horsey. Yes, I can (and do) still comfort my teens when they are stressed or hurt, but it isn’t the same as kissing a boo-boo.

My family accuses me of being overly sentimental. The truth is that I love my children and am constantly in awe watching them navigate either high school or the Marine Corps with a maturity I lacked at their age. I do admit there is something special when my middle son roasts me with a perfectly-timed, witty remark. He has my same sense of humor and executes jokes with more talent than I do (or ever did). My oldest has a grit determination I wish I had when I was his age. My youngest daughter dances like me and is a fierce social justice warrior. I am an incredibly proud dad.

Looking back, there are a million things I wish I had done differently as a parent. I regret all the times I raised my voice in anger. I wish I had more readily acknowledged my children’s school stress, and recognized sooner my two youngest children’s dyslexia. The 19th century Danish theologian and philosopher, Søren Kierkegaard, reminds us that life’s clarity only exists retrospectively. We all have regrets, but we can only trust that we