The image is vivid in my memory. It was the closing minutes of the boys’ championship soccer game against Germantown Friends and Shipley was down 3-2. And, though I wanted us to win, as I watched my son and all of the other seniors, I was completely unconcerned about the score. I didn’t want the game to end. I wanted to keep watching them play. I didn’t care about the championship; I simply wanted to hold time still. As the clock clicked down, memories of our son’s many games and of his childhood overwhelmed me.

When the horn ended the game, I was somewhat sad, realizing that I had watched the last high school soccer game for my son and his senior teammates. While I had seen him play in hundreds of games over the years, I had no way to anticipate the feelings I had in that final game. Though I hate to admit it, I had tears in my eyes. 

I understood that only a small part of my reaction was tied to the soccer. The realization that my son’s high school career would soon come to a close and that in fairly short order he would be going off to college and on his way to being on his own hit me hard. As I shared these feelings with the parents of other seniors, I was relieved to learn that many of them were (are) experiencing exactly the same feelings.

In truth, the feelings were (are) an apprehension about his moving on, an internal desire to keep him a child, to keep him here with us. But as parents, the most important thing we do is to help our children develop independence and autonomy so that they can go out on their own. Of course, this soccer game was not the only time I have faced this emotion.

When I was dropping our son off at the airport to go to visit some colleges, I told him how proud I was of the search he was doing and how much I looked forward to seeing him take on his next challenges. While I believed those words in my mind, I didn’t feel them in my heart. In fact, my next words to him summed up the situation: “You know I’m not really ready for this.” He replied, “Dad, I know that.”

The paradoxical desires to keep our children young and at the same time let them grow and go are normal. The conflict between these contradictory feelings is one that we all face, and it is difficult to reconcile. Educational Psychologist Rob Evans, author of Family Matters: How Schools Can Cope with the Crisis in Childrearing, and The Human Side of School Change, would characterize these feelings as chronic ambivalence. They occur throughout our children’s process of growing up. Ironically, for us as adults, the process may be made easier if we can access our own childhood memories and come to grips with that chronic ambivalence. Just recently, I had such an experience to start the process.

When a very dear friend gave me the book, Yastrzemski, my own internal clock turned back to my childhood in Boston when Carl Yastrzemski (or Yaz as he was called) was my favorite Red Sox player. A tremendous competitor, the last Triple Crown winner, and a Hall of Fame player, he represented everything good about my youth. As I read the book and watched the highlights on DVD, his career and my childhood came alive. His playing career spanned 23 years and took me from young childhood through adolescence into young adulthood. It coincided with my years in elementary school through high school at home, leaving home for college, my first job in Connecticut, and my return to Boston for my first year of graduate school, the year I also met my wife. Frankly, I cannot remember any other person outside of my immediate family who overlapped so much of that part of my life.

In particular, the 1967 “Impossible Dream Team” resonated with me. I could see every member of the starting line-up as though he were there today. I felt the raw energy, enthusiasm, and naiveté of the 12-year-old I was, rooting for the1967 Red Sox to win the pennant and the World Series. And I remember the sheer ecstasy I felt when they beat the Twins on the final day of the regular season to win the pennant. The look of joy on the face of my father (someone who could never openly admit to being a Red Sox fan) brought tears to my eyes then as the memory of it does now.

In the time since reading Yastrzemski, I have continued to recall memory after memory of each Yaz milestone and Red Sox achievement, not unlike the way I remember each of my son’s soccer games and milestones. In doing so, I have found myself reliving the coinciding personal experiences of those years from childhood through adolescence into young adulthood. I have felt especially nostalgic about my preparation for going off to college. As I recall it, the feelings I had when I was being dropped off were as ambivalent as the ones I am feeling as a parent preparing for (but still a half a year away from) dropping my own child off to college. On the one hand, I was remarkably excited and ready to be on my own; on the other hand, I felt incredibly homesick and anxious. I missed my parents and siblings even though I was ready to go.

I have loved every minute of the recollections and have found myself grateful for the memories, hoping that I could share them with others. Those memories, the emotions, and the chronic ambivalence shape our lives and help us to become the adults we are. 

While it is at the very least confusing to recall our own childhood as we fight the desire to keep our children young, we must understand and appreciate our circumstances, past and present, and those of our children if we are to be able to let our children go. Acknowledging our reluctance to see our children leave us, but remembering our own childhood and our growth may enhance our ability to let them go. It’s a challenge that plays out for families over a long period of time.

As our children begin to separate from us, we come to grips with it in very different ways. Quite often, the independence they seek and deserve is met with frustration and push-back from us. It is not unusual for families to experience significant stress during this period of time. Though I am not sure it makes it easier, I believe that acknowledging the feelings to ourselves and our kids provides a better chance that we and they will go through the process more smoothly.

Most importantly, we have to keep the doors of communication with them open, which is not always easy. Regardless of what we think or how we deal with it, our children must move to the next challenges in their lives. The question becomes: How can we deal with it in ways that are most helpful to them, ourselves, and the entire family?

As I thank my dear friend who gave me Yastrzemski for helping me to remember my own childhood, I hope that the holidays will provide our children, others in our lives, and us with the positive memories that make our ongoing growth easier and more fulfilling and enjoyable. Have a great vacation and a healthy and happy new year. See you in 2008! 

With warm wishes,

Steve Piltch
Head of School