That actions speak louder than, speak louder than, speak louder than love songs
The melodies, they carry on
Actions speak louder than, speak louder than, speak louder than love songs
I’ve been doing it all wrong.
I woke up to these lyrics to the John Legend song Actions in my head. And it’s got me thinking about something I tell parents of young kids all the time: they pay more attention to what you do than what you say. It’s just a fact of life. And apparently, the older they get, the more adept our children become at discerning the distance between our actions and our words. I’ve had more than a few experiences over the past few weeks to remind me of this.
As my wife and I walked into my oldest daughter’s high school check-in, I had a flood of emotions wash over me. Pride was definitely the dominant one. I was also curious and eager to learn more about my daughter. This was our first high school check-in as parents of a junior, and this was our first time having this kind of discussion with her and her team about her purpose, future plans, what she’s been learning about herself, all rolled into one. It felt formal, official, and for some reason I felt on display as well. As if whatever came out of this conversation would also be a reflection of our parenting.
Samantha sat down on the couch next to her and I had to sit on a big plush chair next to the school leader opposite them both. It was a little thing, but I could already feel the distance. The conversation began with us reading Riley’s prepared reflections, a very long survey of what she’s learned about herself thus far, her passions, strengths, and learning styles over these past few years in high school. Some of it was drawn from a recent assessment she’d taken called YouScience which helps students better understand their natural aptitudes and how it might align to potential careers. Knowing our daughter though, none of this was knew information to her. She’s been a pretty self aware person for a while now. One cool new thing I learned: her definition of a highly successful person is someone who can choose what they want and they’re content with what they’re doing.
As we got deeper into the conversation and started to talk specifically about the ways our support as parents has helped her, we also talked about what doesn’t help. I’ve always suspected she’s someone who needs more space and less external pressure to make decisions. She already does enough of that for herself. But here she was, describing a situation where she felt pressure to take a course (AP African American Studies). And even though it turned out well, she got a 4 on the exam and learned a lot, she still wasn’t thrilled about it. I knew exactly where that pressure came from. Me.
Then, she talked about the pressure to simply figure a lot of things out on her own. Things like dual enrollment and which colleges she wants to attend and he schedule. All areas where we’d basically ceded full authority. I mean, she attends a self-directed learning school, and in our eyes she’s proven herself more than capable of making her own decisions. But, apparently she’s been experiencing some of that freedom as sometimes overwhelming. It was good talking this through with her and reminding her that she doesn’t have to do this all alone. And yet, she’s probably felt that way, a little bit. In the day-to-day work of triaging the finite time and energy we have for our kids, we assumed this one was fine, that she didn’t need the more hands-on support we might have given the others. And in doing so, our actions conveyed a message that conflicted with our words.
I’ve been teaching this same daughter how to drive over the past 6 months and for the most part I think it’s going well. Yesterday she drove home her sisters and a few of their friends and they all remarked how good of a driver she was, so you know, peer feedback is positive! What’s interesting is that the process of teaching her how to drive has been instructive for me as a parent. At one point, my oldest daughter pointed out how she’s noticed that I yell less these days. I didn’t even realize that was something they were tracking. Now I wonder, how much did I yell before?
There’s been intentionality behind that shift, though. Just like when I was teaching them all to ride a bike, back when they were younger, I know learning a new thing can be scary. My gentle but firm approach is for their safety (and mine!). For the first few months, I gave a lot of direct, in-the-moment instruction, something Riley seemed to appreciate. We practiced small, basic moves again and again: control of the wheel, using her mirrors, turning, backing up, all in lower-risk situations. As we moved into more advanced territory, busy streets, left turns, each milestone got its own mini-lesson. Now we’re at the point where I can hop in the passenger seat and sit mostly in silence while she drives. Every now and then, if I have an observation, I’ll offer it, or I’ll ask: what do you think you could have done differently there? At this stage, I’m noticing she appreciates it when I offer less commentary while she’s driving, so she can focus on assessing all the moving parts herself.
All of this is reinforcing the real trust that we have in her. It’s another thing to get in a vehicle with a practicing driver and let her figure things out as she goes, because you actually trust her to do it. The thing we were trying to communicate by being more hands-off at school, it turns out we communicated it better by teaching her to drive. She’s experienced a release of control appropriate to her level, and it’s reinforcing her own confidence in herself.
Parenting is tricky ya’ll. Sometimes you don’t know if you’re doing it right until much farther down the road. But when it comes together, it’s a beautiful thing to witness.
SDW3
everyday fatherhood 