Karena de Souza, B.Parenting

E90: Graduation edition

It was a tiny moment buried in a blessing, tucked at the tail end of a celebration service. I found myself standing there, my fingers suddenly wet, wiping away a stream of unexpected tears from my face. Tears at the simplicity, hope, and truth of what was being stated.

Fulfill the best wishes of your pasts and our future

Class of 2023, generations of your past rejoice at you. They sing your thanksgiving through the ages and their song comes true with you. Feel their courage in your limbs and carry your ancestors with you as you go.
Class of 2023, generations of your futures depend upon you. They wait to sing your celebrations, the ones that will ring out in your honor. Feel their hope in your hearts and follow the call of their longing.
Class of 2023, go in peace with all of our blessings and fulfill the best wishes of your pasts and our future.

— Rev. Matthew Ichihashi Potts, Baccalaureate Service 2023

What a beautiful, perfectly worded blessing, tying together the hopes of our yesterdays to the promises of our tomorrows.

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This week:

• Graduation edition - photo essay

• Essay: A degree in the Art and Science of Parenting. This could be a very, very long essay. But I think this is as good a start as any.

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On a freezing cold day in the month of May …

Au Revoir, Boston. A few photos from a week-long celebration, capping years of study.

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Karena de Souza, B.Parenting (Humility)

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Graduations are moments of transition. We see how far we have come, recap the joy and company on this journey, assess what we have learned, and face up to the inevitable life changes ahead. With this graduation, my days of campus visits have come to an end.

I watch the youngest of our three children, beaming as he crosses the Yard wearing his cap and gown. As a hand reaches over to swipe his tassel to the left, I realize that I am now the one graduating. As a parent.

I’m proud to say I will be receiving my degree with Honours Humility. 

Parenting has been an education in humility.
Humility. That word keeps coming back to me. It is the ultimate learning in this journey of shepherding another soul, another generation onto this earth.
Humility — that I have to let them go for them to grow.
Humility — that I cannot protect them from pain.
Humility — the realization that we may be guardians, offering influence, but cannot control the destiny of this soul in our care.
Humility — to cede control and take on trust.
Humility — that we are a small part of this universe. But we are also a necessary part of life’s continuum.

Learning 1: You have to let them go to grow

This connection that started with a tightly coiled pulsing umbilical cord, kicks and heartbeats housed closely within me for nine months, has gradually been loosening. First with kindergarten. Then school and university. Each sleepover or their first time driving solo. Independent travel.

I act as an anchor, gradually feeding out more and more slack into the rope as they develop their self-confidence in their ability to make decisions so they can climb higher, further, faster. Allowing each child to step into their own potential and identity as a young adult. 

I’ve been preparing for this transition for a long time. From the moment I heard these words by Kahlil Gibran. And understood their significance. 

They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
        And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

Learning 2: I am not a sieve.

In my many roles as a parent, a key one has been to prepare and protect. I realized that I am not a sieve. It is unfair to shield my children from life’s pains, while exposing them only to the joys. 

Here, the question I ask is: “How do we give our children the tools to make better decisions for themselves? How do they position themselves to respond to change?”

What I choose to give them are stories of resilience and heirloom skills as anchors and stabilizers. These heirloom skills, lovingly polished through frequent use, and handed down from generation after generation of ancestors — critical thinking, community service, belief in humanity, resilience, risk-taking, respect for each other and for the Earth — will persist long after today’s latest technology has made way for the next.

Learning 3: I dreamed too small

My children continually surprise me with the tales of their quests, soaring past the limitations of my own imagination for their achievements. 

Dare I say it, I dreamed too small for my own children. In my effort to protect them from pain and suffering, I would have pushed them to graduate with financial freedom rather than go where they would feel the tension of being intellectually challenged. But no. They opted for the struggle. 

I realize, in hindsight, that all the planning I made for each child’s career path was only a starting point in their university journey, a stepping stone in their life exploration. My late-night fussing had been futile. My control was a chimera, extending only to the boundaries of my own horizons. My children stand at the edge of a new world.

As each child was exposed to new professors, new topics, seminars, and friends, their interests evolved. The child who left home to do Sports Management is now specializing in supply/chain at a management consultancy. The big data math nerd is doing strategy and marketing. The environmental engineer has a healthy side gig as a composer and DJ. This parent of their teen selves could not have imagined such personality pivots. University was an incubator of myriad interests beyond those I’d exposed them to at home.

Like butterflies busting out of their cocoons, each has sprouted strong wide wings of intensely beautiful colours which I now notice as they take flight.

Learning 4: To Parent is to cede control

We go to school to learn to plan and take control of our careers and our lives.

The moment I was handed my firstborn child, I realized how little control I would really have for the foreseeable future. All our acquired learning, power, and money wither away when we face a six-month-old fighting a fever and ear infection. The responsibility of making momentous and innocuous choices for this little person that could literally change the direction of their life feels immense. And we have no way to guarantee them success or shield them from failure.

And then I send my children to school to repeat the cycle. Oy vey.

I had to learn Trust.

Trust that we, parents, have been enough and done enough. Trust that our children will continue to evolve. And that they will take the simple heirloom skills we have given them and use them to become independent members of society. 

Trust … that this is the natural order of life.

Learning 5: We are a tiny but necessary part on life’s continuum.

Parenting changes you forever. The moment my first child was placed in my arms, I realized that THIS commitment would stretch decades and really was an oath “till death do us part”.

My relationship with time spun on its axis. I went from planning for myself, no further than next weekend, to worrying about clean water and air for future generations. 

All the hopes of my ancestors were now placed in these little souls entrusted to my care. All the dreams of our future generations. Their fingerprints and footprints will leave their mark.

I realized my place on the continuum of time.

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Nothing prepares us for parenting. There is no curriculum, carefully curated, researched and presented by professors. Instead, we earn our graduation the hard way.

It is an heirloom education - passed down across millennia.

We learn at the feet of those who came before, reaching out for bytes of wisdom from peer parents a few steps ahead. Our labs are the late nights of fevers, chaperoning, and education applications. Our tutors are wise: our own parents, relatives, friends, and the village of experience that watches over us and ours. We get to sift through the content, clutching at the most important facts, delving deeper into the parts that intrigue us, and testing new theories. Always listening. Always learning. Always humble.

So I share these simple lessons in that spirit - offering my reflections and learning to those a few steps behind me. Meantime, I’m going to knock on the door of sages a few steps ahead in my own journey. They tell me I’m moving from one phase to a new one. And so I start work on the postgrad stage of my parenting degree - an MA (Mother as Advisor). I’m told it involves learning how to hold more of my counsel to myself. Exciting times ahead!

Until then, I am

Karena, B. Parenting.

Looking up

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This essay pairs well with:

• Mother of Dragons

• Till Death Us Do Part - a parent’s love letter to her children

• Like living arrows

• Go Swift and Far

I ask your grace as you read this deeply personal essay. I recognize and acknowledge that there are many who are at different stages of their life and parenting journey. This short essay touches on the emotions roiling through me as I mark this moment in my life.

Thanks to all the editors who read my longer draft. I realize that a lot of material sits on the cutting room floor. I am happy to delve into more detail on my parenting journey to date. Just DM me!

Rick Lewis

Ishan Shanavas

Jordan Blackwell

@neilda gagne

Angie Wang

Vicky Zhao

I look forward to seeing you all again next week.
Karena