I guess the title of this post is intended ironically, since I’m pretty sure my kids are about as different from Kurt Cobain as you can get.
My oldest child, my daughter, is off to a competition in another city today. This year in high school she signed up for a web design class, which is taught by the woman who is also the advisor for the Business and Marketing (BAM) club. I’m still not sure what it is they do, and I have even less an idea of what this competition is about, but that’s not the point.
The point is I envy my daughter. I wish I’d had her drive when I was her age. She’s taken to heart the advice that your teen years are the time to explore, to find out what you enjoy, what you’re good at. If something looks enjoyable and engaging, she’s in. Sometimes that works out really well, like art. Sometimes it’s not so successful, like playing the saxophone. But I’m pretty sure my daughter will not be like her dad in one very important aspect: I doubt she’s going to spend eight years getting a bachelor’s degree and then do something entirely different. The way she’s going after things I suspect she’ll have a pretty good idea what she wants to do by the time she gets to college–and if it turns out she was wrong it won’t take her seven years to figure that out.
She’s growing up so fast. That’s practically a mandatory cliché that all parents must spout, but only because it’s true. Three years from now my daughter will be in college. This morning she was trying on a business suit that she’d borrowed–from one of the adult leaders of our church’s young women’s group. She looked so…hire-able! Sure, she’s only fifteen, but…dang! A little more experience and maturity and she’s going to kick life’s butt and take names. When did this happen?
It’s fun and largely satisfying to watch my kids growing up. Each one is so different. Each has their strengths and their weaknesses. Sometimes I feel like I know them better than they know themselves, and yet they still regularly surprise me. At our middle school as part of the parent-teacher conferences they encourage the kids to write a letter to their parents. I would have expected our youngest to balk at this assignment and do the minimum to get by. No, he wrote a long, thoughtful letter. I was amazed! This is the quiet one who dislikes expressing his feelings!
My middle child, my Pokémon champion, is working to overcome a significant setback in his goals for this year. The Pokémon company reworked the championships system and made it much more difficult for him to get his invitation to the World Championships this year. When he first heard about it I nearly expected him to give up Pokémon. But no, he’s been working it all out in his mind and trying to figure out a way. It won’t be easy, and it will require some sacrifice to get him to all the tournaments he’ll need to go to. I do find myself wishing he’d find interests outside of Pokémon, but at least he’s keeping up his grades. And I do think the process of setting and achieving his goals–and experiencing setbacks–has been good for him. He has matured quite a bit in the past year or so since he first got serious. It’s gratifying to see.
I’m not about to claim my kids are perfect. But considering how much most people complain about their teenagers, I have to wonder how we got so lucky. Yes, we do see some of that. We have our clashes. We do have to deal with moodiness and dramatics. But on the whole, I really like my kids. They’re good kids. And I blame their mother for that. Me? I’m still trying to get myself together.
The other night they watched the Presidential Debate. They’d never seen anything like that before, and it made them think. I don’t know what conclusions they came to in the end, but from their discussion I’m pleased to see they were looking as much at the candidates’ behavior as they were their words. I do have hope for the future in the form of my kids. It’s my deepest hope that they will be smarter than we seem to be.
You certainly do have good kids.