A while back I came across an article that shared an interesting statistic.
Sixty percent of today’s school-age children see themselves as exceptional, compared to the 8% who saw themselves exceptional in 1964.
Today, being average is unacceptable.
An Interesting situation when you consider most of us, in most things, are — average.
But this statistic opened me up to the larger question of how times change and how children learn to navigate life when their world gets turned upside down.
For instance, my parents were children of Irish immigrants and were taught to believe in Catholic teachings and Irish traditions.
In that world conformity was esteemed; exceptionalism was not.
The communal held sway over the individual.
Then suddenly the world changed. Along came Vatican Two, civil rights, the Vietnam war — people finding their voices.
All of a sudden, it seemed, we discovered we had agency.
So how was I to to learn to live, operate, and be in this new world?
In a life where you actually have skin in the game and your vote counts.
Here’s an early lesson of mine.
Mr. Miller was a stalwart in our parish, a big man with a large family.
His oldest son was a football coach and teacher at Seattle Prep, and someone I wrote about in an earlier post.
Mr. Miller was the kind of quiet person who, when he spoke, everyone listened. He possessed an air of authority, yet was totally approachable.
His parenting philosophy was along the lines of:
From what I could see, he
- questioned, not judged
- talked, not yelled
- coaxed, not demanded
I saw this firsthand in one unforgettable encounter.
His 16-year-old son, Bill, had purchased a car. The transaction was in the form of a verbal agreement between two teenagers, sealed with a handshake.
But the seller quickly backed out of the deal.
This made Bill really angry. He wanted that car and had no intention of giving up what he believed was his rightful possession.
How I got caught up in this dispute I can’t say. All I know is my buddies Jerry Toner and Loren Gerhart and I were with Bill when he decided to take possession of (steal) the car.
After we had the car a conversation ensued about the meaning of grand theft auto and the perilous position into which we might have placed ourselves.
Our second thoughts were so scary that Bill suggested, “I think this is something we ought to discuss with my dad.”
Let me paint the picture:
- It’s after midnight,
- we had just stolen a car,
- we had a guilty conscience,
- so let’s discuss the matter
— WITH ONE OF OUR PARENTS?
The idea of such a thing was absurd to me. Truly, I couldn’t imagine having such a conversation with my parents.
But Bill was dead serious.
So we went to Bill’s house and woke up his dad, who met us in his study, dressed in his bathrobe — with not a hint of being perturbed.
Bill carefully laid out our situation, sharing all that had transpired up to and including the four of us taking the car.
Mr. Miller just sat there and quietly listened.
When Bill finished Mr. Miller said, “I take it you boys all agree we’re here to do the right thing.” We all nodded our heads in agreement.
He then pulled out a yellow notepad and asked us to dissect Bill’s dilemma from BOTH perspectives.
It was a master class in righting an upside-down world.
Within the hour we changed direction and returned the car before anyone knew it was gone.
The next day I caught up with Bill and asked him if he’d gotten into trouble for the events of the prior night.
He said no, that his dad was proud of us for working through our problem and arriving at a satisfactory resolution.
It was a lesson I was to never forget.
I wonder what the Mr. Millers of today look like as they work to right our upside-down world. Certainly, they are here. Perhaps they are us.
Just a thought…
Pat