Yesterday was our first PTA meeting at the new school. We arrived with no expectation and with an appetite to learn; or rather I arrived with just an appetite. The reception dinner held prior to the meeting was a perfect blend of an impeccably arranged buffet table and a hovering murmur of new faces As I made my way through the assortment of mini spring rolls, cheese balls with fancy names, artisan breads, raw vegetables and spreads, my wife reminded me through a bright wide smile to use the utensils provided on the doily laced plates and not my grubby hands. I was a bit offended at the grubby remark because I literally wash my hands at least twenty times a day; nonetheless I appreciated the reminder not wanting to embarrass myself in this new crowd. We made our way to the available table in the corner near the door and sat with other enthusiastic parents already nibbling the tiny appetizers that foiled my expectation of a true dinner reception.
I made pleasantries with everyone as I struggled to stab the tiny spring roll with my silverware in hopes to quell the rumbling disappointment of my stomach. When I rejoined the conversation it was a frenzy confirmation of nodding heads in agreement that even with the invention of cell phones, text messaging, email, face-time, Facebook,My Space, Skype and ooVoo, we could not reach or make contact with our children. There was a genuine moment of camaraderie among the parents as we finally understood their flagrant defiance. Obviously it was a matter of not having enough technology not that they were really ignoring us! Sitting at the table I found it rather amusing how parents can turn any topic of conversation into an opportunity to discuss their children. What’s the weather forecast for tomorrow – my daughter has a field hockey game, or, did you hear that protesters stormed the US Embassy in Yemen; I wonder if my son has social studies homework?
Before going into the newly built library for our meeting we had a brief opportunity to visit with our daughter. With her backpack in tow and her steady gait of confidence, I saw as if for the first time a young lady approaching her parents, not like she needed us, but like we needed her. She was comfortable in her environment, sure and poised. She was settled into a routine of classes, friends and sports. She walked across the campus like she belonged there, part of a community that had been waiting for her all along. There was nothing separating her from the other students like a spotlight or glimmering skin, it was merely her in her essence. She had crossed the threshold of childhood and was actively immersed in the realm of high school navigating it successfully. When did she suddenly stop needing her mother and me?
Her recent telephone calls stood as warnings that she was growing up. Her questions were focused on how we were doing, how was work, does the house feel weird without me, what books are you reading? Were we actually having a conversation? Her interest moved from her to us, we felt included in her life. Before she left to boarding school we had a dinner party in her honor. As my wife and I moved about our home fulfilling our hosting duties, we watched our daughter sit with each of her guests, engaged in conversation, acknowledging them, sharing with them, participating with them, recognizing their presence. That night in bed, as most married couples do, we discussed the day’s events, but what our daughter did stood out foremost as the best moments of the day. Her unprompted actions to make others feel welcomed and that their presence in our home mattered made the work of planning and executing such a large party that much more rewarding. She was relaxed in her own skin and thrilled to share herself with those who came to honor her. She is growing and there is nothing we can do about it. It’s happening. Our job is and always will be to cultivate the growth
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