Last week I found in my inbox a letter from the counselors at my son’s school. They described an upcoming “Healthy Relationships Day” that all the 7th graders would be participating in. A full day on relationships! Who couldn’t use that?
The email presented the very thoughtful curriculum and agenda for the day, including the required anatomy/puberty/STD section; a “Welcome to 2011” section on social media and bullying; discussion of abstinence: relationship advice.
Then in bold:
“Please note that as part of the Goals and Dreams session, we are asking parents to write a letter to their child expressing what their hopes for their child and his or her future. This letter could include something about what you value as parents and as a family, and what you hope your child will value as well as he or she looks ahead. We realize that unless all students have a letter to open from their parents this exercise could make some students feel awkward, and so we are counting on 100% participation.”
My first thought: What an amazing exercise. My second thought: Can I get an extension? No pressure!
Well, the letter is written (with a whole hour to spare). You should start writing yours now. It is an essential exercise for all parents. That said, being asked to write about your hopes and dreams for your child is a little like being asked to write your life story: It has to be very short, or very very long. Remembering that my primary reader is twelve, I opted for short.
The document exhorts him to live with joy, and amounts to me summing up my philosophy of life in a form that is Twitter-friendly. I could send the whole thing in about ten tweets. But it is deeply heartfelt as well. Which is why I really didn’t appreciate Pandora serving up Sarah McLachlan’s “Angels” as I was writing the last (and most emotional) paragraph. It took me twenty minutes to quit blubbering into my keyboard. And how did Sarah McLachlan get into my playlist? I need to ask some hard questions.
At this point, I think that I’ll share a slightly edited version of the letter here in a couple of days. Poor kid, he should at least get the first read.
In the mean time, let me know how you might approach answering this question yourself.
I keep telling myself to do a video message to theBoy, for when I’m gone… and I try to convince myself that it’s warm and caring, and not at all creepy to get a video from the grave…
A handwritten letter… and just because (not because I’m dead)… that’s very much a better idea. Sappy, yea, but sappy is better than creepy.
Thanks for the reminding me…
This is a really good exercise, because as I sit here thinking and knowing that I do have hopes and wishes for my children’s futures, I am hard pressed to be able to express them coherently.
As an aside, a few years ago, I attended a Parish retreat for Men (there was also a companion Women’s retreat) and as part of that retreat, each participant (and the organizers too) receive letters from their family and anyone who wishes to send you a letter.
The effect on the retreat is extremely impactful emotionally speaking. It can be a powerful experience to receive a letter from a loved one letting you know how they feel about you.
I’ve wanted to do this for a while. Wife and I have a safe deposit box that has our wills and such in it, and I have wanted to (but put off) writing a letter–most likely the very very long kind.
I would like to do this to give him an idea of not only our goals for him, but to give him a little bit of broad life advice in the event that something happens to my wife and I.
I don’t know why I’ve put it off…if it’s simple laziness and procrastination, or if it’s more of an emotional avoidance. Nobody wants to confront their own mortality. It needs to get done in any event. Thanks for bringing it up…maybe it’s added a little motivation for me to get it done soon…