I had a conversation with my (super fantastic) brother-in-law this winter that got me thinking. Here’s a paraphrased version, because I can’t remember the exact words:

HEATHER: I told Isaac to do a thing the other day, but he had some really good reasons for why he shouldn’t do it.

PETER: You still made him do it, right?

HEATHER: He raised valid concerns.

PETER: But you’re the parent, so he did it, right?

HEATHER: There was compromise.

(Peter looks at me, long and hard.)

Peter’s point was that I, as the parent, the adult, am the authority. I make the rules and my kid should follow them.

To a point, I agree. But.

Peter is an “authoritative” parent, and that’s a good thing: “commanding and self-confident; likely to be respected and obeyed” because he’s “able to be trusted as being accurate or true; reliable.” (Thanks, Google dictionary.)

However, some parents go mad with power and become “authoritarian” parents: “favoring or enforcing strict obedience to authority … at the expense of personal freedom.”

Authoritarian vs. Bohemian vs. ?

Parents have plenty of parenting styles to choose from. At any busy playground you’ll see examples of our many options:

Authoritarian Parent: Don’t climb up that slide. Get down now. I told you not to do that.

Passive Parent: Be careful, sweetie. Maybe you shouldn’t throw rocks, okay?

Best-Buddy Parent: Wheeeee, this slide is fun! Chase me! Woohoo!

Benignly Neglectful Parent: [On their phone or chatting with another adult, while their kid does whatever.]

I started thinking about what kind of parent I wanted to be — and could be — when Isaac learned to walk. At that stage, I had to start monitoring his interactions with other people, and choose when and how to intervene.

A classic parenting truth is to “start as you mean to continue.” I knew I had to choose a parenting style I could stick with for the long haul, including once Brock died and I became a single parent.

I am not a “do it because I said so” person. Even if I did choose that parenting style, and manage to sustain it (against my nature) for the next decade, there will come a day when my son is taller and stronger than I am, and he will inevitably respond to a parental command with: “No. Make me.” I won’t be able to. (Unless I keep up with the kickboxing.)

The parental style I settled on is a combination of benign neglect (I don’t build forts and I don’t play unless Lego or puzzles are involved) and teacher/guide. Because he has this kind of mom, my son plays extremely well on his own, is imaginative, loves Lego, and takes pride in making and bringing me breakfast in bed.

Obedience vs. Critical Thinking

Authoritarian parenting goes against my nature, but also I just don’t like it. I don’t like it when people in power make and enforce rules just to exercise their power, with no room for discussion or compromise.

I want my son to question authority. Even now, in kindergarten, I want him to ask for the reasons behind the rules. He should understand why he’s supposed to walk carefully in the hallways and hang up his coat.

I have this wonderful memory of me, Brock and Isaac sitting at the kitchen table. Isaac wanted ice cream, and Brock said no. Isaac didn’t throw a tantrum, but he really wanted that ice cream so he started to give reasons (calmly) why ice cream was a good idea. Brock didn’t get angry that a three-year-old was questioning his decision. He thought about and addressed each one of Isaac’s points. Isaac stood up on his chair and continued to think of more arguments, until eventually he shrugged and said: “I have no more words.”

Both Brock and I applauded Isaac for thinking of all his reasons and making his point clearly. (We still didn’t give him any ice cream.)

I love that Isaac could debate intelligently. I love that Brock didn’t get pissy at having his authority questioned. He’d made his decision to not allow ice cream at that time for a good reason, not just to exercise his dad-power, and so there was no danger of being “out-argued” by his toddler.

Parenting for Privilege

I want Isaac to know he can question authority, because he will always have that privilege.

Fact #1: My kid is a white, middle-class, Canadian male. Given his dad’s genetics, he might be tall, which will (according to the stats) make life even easier for him.

Fact #2: He lives in a functional, loving home with a functional, loving extended family. No addictions (except Lego), no neglect, no abuse. He eats healthy food, sleeps 10-12 hours at night, and we read together for 1-2 hours every day.

Fact #3: He is an ideal student (this is apparent even at the kindergarten level) and will get a post-secondary education, probably at a university but maybe he’ll choose to apprentice in a trade or be an artist. He has a family that 100% supports whatever path he chooses, and an RESP account to pay for it.

He has every opportunity he could possibly have, and so will never have to endure someone who abuses their authority. My son will never have to put up with an employer or authority figure who can’t be questioned, because there will always be other doors open to him. And he will always have a safety net (i.e. his supportive family) to catch him if he falls.

I want my son to understand and appreciate his privilege, and use it to create the life he wants. I want him to ask for the reasons behind the rules, and question authority when it doesn’t make sense. I want him to say “no” and opt out of a dysfunctional job or situation.

Yes, it’s unfair that my white, middle-class son probably has an easier road ahead of him than kids who don’t carry these labels. I want him to question authority because, if anyone can do it, my super-privileged kid can. He can shake the trees that others can’t. If he topples a tyrant, or gets an unfair policy changed, that benefits us all.

Celebrating Critical Thinkers

Every spring, the Cowichan Valley School District couriers a box to my door. Inside are dozens of applications from graduating students who would like to be awarded our $500 bursary in memory of Brock.

We started this award to encourage students who thought like Brock: critical thinkers, who aren’t necessarily A-students but who enjoy reading and discussing ideas.

I read through these applications and throw all the ones from straight-A, rule-following students into the “no” pile. I keep the ones with reference letters that suggest the kid is something of a shit-disturber. I look for students who aren’t afraid to voice their own opinions or question the curriculum.

So far, our son is on the path of being an A-student, just like I was. Both of us like following the rules. My challenge for the next 13 years is to help him be the kind of person who would qualify for his dad’s award.

I want to cultivate that spark inside him that made him stand on the kitchen chair and defend his desire for ice cream, using all the words and ideas available to him in his little-kid brain.

Because he can, and he should.

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