Learning to let go

“Did you get in?” “Have you heard yet?” “Will you apply anywhere else?” Those are the questions high school seniors have been asking each other as college acceptance and rejection notices roll in. Some news is good, some is bad, and in some cases, there’s no news at all. These are emotional times for our students, and while they will end up where they’re supposed to go, it doesn’t make the process of getting there any easier. But it does make all of us stronger.

Witnessing our own son go through the college acceptance process last year was excruciating, especially as a music school applicant who had to pass through tough screening steps before even getting his final decision letters. One day he’d learn that he didn’t make it through the first-round screening, and the next day a school would invite him in for an audition. Looking back, while it wasn’t easy being on the rollercoaster ride of our son’s rejections and acceptances, the whole process provided tough but valuable lessons on overcoming obstacles, and bouncing back from disappointment or mistakes.

It was during this college admissions process that I realized that there’s plenty of parenting information out there on how to build your child’s self-esteem, but very little about when to let go and actually let your child fail. Sports and school experiences didn’t help. We still have a shelf lined with elementary school trophies handed out just for playing the game, and a folder filled with school papers covered with “Nice Job!” (even though our child’s handwriting was illegible).

When our children were toddlers, I used to pride myself on how I’d give them the freedom they needed to just be kids. My husband, on the other hand, would be the over-protective one. We’d go to the playground together and he’d follow their every step, and react to every minor bump and bruise (which invariably made our kids cry), while I’d choose to just sit and wait. I’d be on the edge of the park bench just hoping that our children would simply pick themselves up after a minor tumble and continue playing.

Ironically, when our boys hit middle school, my husband and I both became “helicopter parents”. With boys who struggled with organization and focus, I’d spend countless hours helping our sons clean out their backpacks (including six-month old Pop Tarts), while my husband monitored homework and studying for tests. At one point, our oldest son’s guidance counselor at Blake said, “Don’t be afraid to let him fail. Kids need to learn how to bounce back on their own.” At the time, the advice was hard to accept, however several years later as we watched our son ride the emotional college admissions rollercoaster, I realized the guidance counselor was right. But I still had a tough time letting go.

Months later while we were preparing to send our son off to college, I was finding it especially difficult to give him space. Our son wasn’t able to get into the dorms, so he was forced to live in an off-campus apartment with upperclassmen. I worried endlessly asking myself: “Would he be able to fend for himself? How would he cope without someone telling him what to do? Would he make smart choices?

Two weeks after dropping him off at school, our son was doing just fine, but I wasn’t. One day I drove into Boston just to make sure he had a rain jacket (mind you, after three days straight of torrential rain). I was trying to avoid being seen as a hovering mom, so I put the jacket in a FedEx box and personally dropped it off on his doorstep so that it would look like a bona-fide delivery (all the time trying to make sure I wouldn’t be seen).

A month later, when our son’s laptop was stolen, my husband had to convince me to not drive in again to “save” our son. Unlike those early playground days, I was now the one hovering, while my husband was the parent standing back waiting to see if our son could bounce back on his own.

Looking back at the high school-to-college transition process, I now realize my son wasn’t the only one growing up and changing – he was forcing me to change too, and for the better. Over the recent winter break, as my self-assured and independent son sat across the kitchen table sharing his thoughts and aspirations with me, I soaked up his every word and was thankful at how far we both had come. And when I dropped him off back at school, I didn’t look back.