My daughter is in trouble again. She’s suddenly grown a fierce attitude, perfected the art of the eye-roll and constantly pushes the boundaries of opposition to her parents. Luckily, though, she is six going on 16 and not actually 16. So, her recent suspension from the school bus, her fifth this year for safety concerns as a kindergartener, has been met with consequences. The whole family suffers because family movie night is cancelled; fun, weekend outings are being rescheduled; and after-dinner desserts aren’t making it to the table for the foreseeable future. In addition, her dad is picking out her school clothes (cringe!) and the occasional ice cream treat is just a distant, unreachable hope. But more than that, we’ve had to talk to her about our disappointment. We’ve discussed our expectations of her behavior and what we are trying to teach her as she grows. We reiterate that we still will always love her, but don’t love her behavior sometimes.
In contrast, my son has always been a good boy. He is empathetic and he listens. But recently he, too, was starting to forget his manners with his teachers. Luckily, during his Individualized Education Program, his special education teacher mentioned it to us. We took him home, talked to him about his behavior and he was grounded for a period, similar to what his sister now faces. And wouldn’t you know it, that same teacher texted me this week to say that our son is now polite and kind and that he has even chosen not to follow some of his friends in poor choices they are currently making. She says that “he is a leader and not a follower”. Now you have to understand, my son has autism. He has always unwaveringly sought the approval of his peers and he has, in the past, been taken advantage of because of it. So, for her to now say he is choosing the right path, even though it isn’t the popular path, is such a profoundly proud moment for him and for us.
But this teacher was hesitant to mention his infractions. In retrospect, I am surprised that she did. I am sure teachers are regularly met with apathy or indignation by parents who don’t care, or who are embarrassed, or whose pride will ultimately be their child’s downfall.
I am conflicted. On one hand, our daughter must be taught manners and how to be a good person. But on the other, I secretly admire her fearless ferocity, because I know that this world is not kind to good little girls who blindly follow authority.
But my hesitation to punish her fades as soon as I think about the consequences if she is allowed to grow up without rules. I am instantly resolute in the knowledge that it is no longer the old adage of “spare the rod and spoil the child” but rather to doom that child to a life of crime. Because it is this lack of authority, a lack of respect for our most basic societal expectations and a complete lack of fear of any consequences that leads to what happened at Young Park.
I hope that my children look back when they are grown and appreciate that being a parent requires strength even in the face of crippling uncertainty and outright emotional pain. Every decision is languished over if you’re doing it right. And in these uncertain times we all live in today, with all of the outside influences of what can only be described as evil, it is truly the hardest job to raise good human beings to adulthood; to make sure they can make good choices even when you aren’t there to catch them. And I hope that my children realize that that is truly the greatest love. Much like that realization has been for me.
Shawna Pfeiffer is a guest columnist, a life-long Doña Ana County resident, graduate of NMSU, small business owner, hobby farmer, dog-lover, outdoor enthusiast and mother to two young children. She can be reached at srpfeiffer1@gmail.com.
