Right vs Privilege

Arjun got his driver's license a couple weeks ago.  What a wonderful moment when he stepped out of the car with a huge grin plastered on his face.  Can't we all remember that feeling?  Whooo!  Freedom.  Right of passage.  So even as I'm very happy for him (and simultaneously struggling with trepidation at his being out there by himself), I've been thinking a great deal about this concept of driving being a right.  I know I saw it as such when I was a kid.  But as a parent, I'm definitely seeing it as a privilege.  

I'm fairly certain my parents never told me I couldn't borrow the car.  I don't think I got into enough trouble to warrant such measures.  I happily tooled around in the 1970 something baby blue Ford Maverick or brown Dodge Omni.  Such piece of crap cars but they got me from point A to point B and I didn't have to pay for gas (which I didn't appreciate enough at the time!).  I did have a curfew-by senior year I think it was midnight.  There were nights I'd leave Newburg or Big Flat at 11:34 pm, knowing I could be screeching into my driveway by 11:58….whew! (Kids, don't try this at home…).

But I don't remember feeling grateful for the car and gas.  I'm pretty sure I thought it was just part of being a teen.  Though the car wasn't fancy, I probably felt entitled to it and took for granted that I'd get to take it to school and to all my activities, even though the car belonged to my parents.  I'm squirming as I think about this now- makes me feel uncomfortable.

In my kids' privileged lives, how do I help them to see the distinction between a right and a privilege?  Like most kids, they're, thoughtful, polite, and have the ability to feel compassion for others.  So what's my problem?  My fear is that without understanding the difference between rights and privileges, they may become people who feel entitled; who may take without feeling any gratitude or thought to consequences.

In my mind, as my kids, they have the right to adoration (the physical and emotional manifestations of love), healthy food, clean clothes, opportunities for fun, emotional and physical safety - to name a few.  These are their rights.  I brought them into my life and I must provide an environment which includes these rights without martyrdom or expectation of repayment.

The privileges include screens of all variety (iWhatevers, phones, computers, or TV), a horse, trips to Cancun for spring break, and yes, a car (the horse, Cancun, nor car are current realities).  While I have not tied the withholding or granting of privileges to grades, I do look for genuine effort and improvement over time.  Show me the concrete, specific, and measurable ways you've worked toward this particular goal in class and we can talk about that insanely expensive set of head phones you want.  I want my children to understand when they're getting a privilege and I want them to appreciate how rare that privilege is in the world, even if all their friends have it.  I want them to feel grateful that they have things and experiences which many other people do not.  And I would like them to turn that knowledge into action by passing on their talents, time, and money to good causes.  But they can't read my mind, so I need to tell them.  Tonight.

Can I Do This?

My last post was about a year ago.  Some of the reasons I stopped posting:

the Boston Marathon bombing
Malaysia flight 370
some unkind words

Then it was hard to come back because there are always sad and horrible events happening in the world.  And I asked myself if I could do this.  What were my silly words/thoughts when real stuff was happening out there? People dying, families left devastated without answers.  What was I doing? Who was I to keep on squawking about trivial things?

The unkind words sealed the deal with my leaving the blog.  In my mind, bloggers are people who put their words out there and can handle whatever comes back at them.  Clearly I wasn't ready to do that yet as I was still smarting from a harsh indictment of what I'd written months after the incident.

Then my friend Mary died.  The kids and I went to her 100th birthday party and a few weeks later she was gone.  How could I be so sad about someone passing at 100?  Especially someone like Mary who lived life so exuberantly?  We'd been in writing class together for 6 years and I always loved hearing her stories.  She started teaching a writing class in her 99th year!  Her passing smacked me in the head.

As did a book that my friend Bridget gave me called The Gifts of Imperfection by Brene Brown.  I have a healthy skepticism of the self-help genre, but she's the real deal.  If you've not had the pleasure, look up her Ted talks on vulnerability and shame - each only 20 minutes long.  She's funny, self-deprecating, and wise.  I highlighted, underlined, and wrote in the margins of that book and I'll be buying her others.  One concept in particular grabbed me: she says we can't wait until we're perfect and bulletproof to step into the arena.  Okie dokie.

So I started thinking about my arenas and my fears and my shame and when I feel vulnerable.  And I started to feel very anxious and embarrassed and vulnerable!  But I kept reading and thinking that we all have arenas in which we are meant to stand and live authentically.  How will I get there?

Writing is important to  me, or so I keep saying.  Chronicling my thoughts for my children is important to me, or so I claim.  So let me get back to this.  Let me step into the arena.  Can I do this?  I'm not sure, but I'm going to practice doing it once a week - whether I publish here or scribble in a journal.  That I can do.