The Gift of a Lifetime
The year I was twelve my dad gave me a gift that changed my life. Back then he had his own company and on Saturday mornings I went along with him while he visited his sites. Then we would go out for lunch. I was allowed to order whatever I wanted, we would make father-daughter small talk, and then we’d go home. But one Saturday it was different. That day we checked out everything we needed to, picked a restaurant, ordered lunch, began to eat, and started talking about what we usually did - our favorite TV program. He and I had a standing date to watch the Twilight Zone together every week, and although I was too young to understand all the science or the adult themes of the series, I loved our time with each other so much it really didn’t matter.
On one particular Saturday we were talking about the episode we had just watched that week about time being the fourth dimension when my dad put down his fork and asked me what I thought. Now I need to paint a proper picture here. My dad was pretty strict. He was loving and thoughtful with my mom and me, but he also didn’t hesitate to make his expectations clear about how I was to behave and, often, how I was to think. So, imagine my amazement when he asked me my opinion. And, even more surprising, he waited for me to collect myself and share my ideas about, of all things, the fourth dimension.
I don’t remember what I said or what he said back, but I’ll never forget the gift he gave me that day, my very first idea-driven conversation. That day at lunch he treated me not only as if I had ideas, but that he thought those ideas were worth talking about. For a tiny moment in my almost-a-teenager life, I was his peer, and we were discussing opinions and thoughts. For that hour, I wasn’t a kid that didn’t know much; I wasn’t a kid that lacked the experience or education to have an opinion. I was a person worth having a conversation with.
As I think about my students today, it occurs to me that the ones who seem most comfortable with ideas, who like stretching themselves to think and analyze, who think it’s fun to talk about current events, are the same students who tell me about how their parents watch the news with them or talk with them about world happenings. It’s that pure and simple: validation for them as people with ideas and questions. The message they receive at home is the same one we try to send at school; they are not kids unable to understand. Instead, the message is “here you are, and I’m happy to hear what you have to say.”
I firmly believe there’s a correlation between that message at home and academic success at school. I’m not a researcher, so I don’t have empirical data to back up my assertion. I do, however, have many anecdotal accounts to support my theory. So I’m going with that and here come my questions of the week: Do our kids believe they have – and should share – ideas, or are they waiting for someone to tell them what to think? Do they offer new information, or ask questions about current events? Do they ask our opinion about things happening in the world? And, most importantly, do we ask for theirs?
My dad died a year after that lunch. That was a very long time ago, but his gift of our conversation has informed all of my life. It has given me the realization that listening to one another’s ideas – no matter how old or young the people are – is the foundation to understanding. One more thing. My dad’s gift has been a precious gem I’ve carried with me for decades; now I give it to you so you can give it to someone you care about. Ready? Here it is: put down your fork and ask that person ….
What do you think?
