I pull up to the school and the kids pile out. It happens every day. It will happen again tomorrow. They leave what I think is the safety of my supervisory eye and move into the deep unknown. At least it’s unknown to me. In the school they learn something, there's no way for me to know. Values and ideas that are not my own. But responsibility for the things they do, the lives they live, some of that at least is mine. They are the product of my life, my example, my teaching. I think it's fair for me to be at least somewhat concerned about what is happening with them.
Don't think I'm the helicopter parent, following them around with a first aid kit and an ice-cream cone. That's simply not the case. In fact, I'm far from that. Very far. I err more on the side of being free-range. But in the end, I'm tempted. Tempted to keep my kids in, under my consistent gaze to ensure their safety from ideas that I've found to be fraudulent. From the destructive forces of the world. I can't do that though. I need to allow them to grow and err just as my parents did with me.
