What I Want Him to Be When He Grows Up

August 20, 2008



I am reading a wonderful book by Oprah's favorite Rabbi (I admit it, I am an Oprah girl!) His name is Rabbi Shmuley Boteach and the book is entitled, The Broken American Male. It is particularly interesting to moms who are raising boys. But it is truly relevant to all parents hoping to raise good people. It would seem a given that all moms and dads want their children to be just that...good. But the more I read, the more the book has made me realize that good isn't enough for many parents.

Shmuley constantly points out that we often ask young children what they want to do when they grow up. Sometimes, we say, "What do you want to be?" But that's semantics. We mean what do you want to do for a living? Be a lawyer, a doctor, an investment banker. What if we shifted the focus, Shmuley poses, to actually discussing what he/she wants to be--what kind of person?

You might think this is a little philosophical for a five-year old but I've been trying it out and it's working. After knocking his sister down with a light saber, my little Darth Vader was sent to his room. I was at my wit's end. It seemed like every afternoon, I was lecturing him or punishing him for annoying his baby sister. This time, I was going to try something different. I walked into his room calmly, sat down on his bed, lifted up his Darth mask so I could look directly in his eyes and then asked him, "What do you want to be?" He looked at me with confusion. "Am I in trouble? Are you taking away my Leapster?" he asked. Again, I repeated my question, "What do you want to be?" "A fighter pilot," he said. "I didn't ask what you want to do," I explained, "I asked what you want to be--what kind of person, what kind of big brother." Slowly but surely, he got where I was going and reached the conclusion that he wanted to be a good big brother who his sister looks up to, not a bully who she fears (his words, my grammar).

It hasn't been perfect since this discussion but it's been better and we've opened the door to more meaningful conversations on this subject.

And speaking of meaninful conversations...

I was talking to a group of friends about this recently. One of them brought up the point that, of course, she wants her child to be a good person but she doesn't want to discourage his ambitions. I am absolutely not suggesting that we don't encourage our children to follow their passions and their dreams but sometimes, it seems, we do set our kids up for failure by focusing so much on what they can be rather than who they can be. We tell all children they can be president, movie stars, professional athletes, etc... But in reality, most of our children will be normal people who have a family and a career and will have to learn to balance both. We are so focused on helping our children achieve that we forget to arm them with the skills it takes to be a fulfilled, happy human being.

Okay, I'm climbing off my Shmuley soap box now. Here's one more personal anecdote. My son sucks at soccer. I mean, he's truly terrible. But he LOVES it. He loves the uniform, the practices, the team camraderie and his beloved Coach Larry (shout out to a Coach who gets it). About midway through the season last year, my son came off the field from another less than less than stellar performance. I gave him a hug and said something like, "Wow, it looks like you were having fun out there." Another mom (whose son can really kick it) came over to me and commented that it was great that I was able to be positive even though it must be hard. I have nothing against this mom. In fact, I like her. But in this moment, I felt sad for her. Why would it be hard for me? Because my beautiful son of many talents isn't good at soccer? Why are we so desperate for our kids to excel at everything that has a score, a monetary value, a tangible symbol of success?

To be fair, I have my desperate moments too. I cringe at school art shows when I stare at my son's scribble scrabble next to some girl's flower garden landscape. But thanks to Shmuley, these moments have become fewer. I want to raise a true gentle man, not an investment banker. But he can both if he wants.