Parents and Children Owning Responsibility for Actions in the Classroom of Life

For the longest time, I perceived saying the words, I am sorry, as a weakness. Over the years, as I grew into parenthood, and began to deal with my own childhood trauma, I realized that saying those three words was a sign of true strength.

I am far from the “seasoned” parent, but what I am most proud of is that I give myself the gift of learning from my kids, instead of always assuming the role of “teacher.” We are our kids’ teachers, but they are also our teachers. Each of us are students of life. As parents, we call it “our job” to take care of our kids, which includes also teaching them how to survive; how to be strong, compassionate, resilient, self-aware, and so much more. As a parent, we can get so stuck in being in power in our roles that we forget our children have been given to us as gifts for our own growth. They need us and we need them. Forgetting this fact, we often can prevent ourselves from showing vulnerability or losing “face” in front of our children.

Growing up, rarely did I hear the words “I am sorry” because it meant my guardians and parents believed they couldn’t own up to any wrongdoing nor could they show vulnerability. When I became a parent, I found myself reminding my children to say that phrase when they’d done something they needed to apologize for. As I continued over the years to urge them to apologize, I realized I didn’t say it nearly as much as they deserved to hear it from me. The words didn’t roll off of my tongue like I expected it to roll off of theirs. Yet I constantly urged them to say those three words — “I am sorry.” 

Children, especially mine, have a way of holding the mirror up to us truly showing us the way forward.

I didn’t expect my family or my parents to apologize when I was eight years old, but for sure there were things that they should have apologized for. The reality was that I withdrew from them when they couldn’t own up to their mistakes. I was reminded of this when, one day, I allowed my temper to get the better of me. I had allowed Aviah to use my special markers for her art project. I had encouraged her to use my things instead of the way I had been taught growing up with the “Don’t touch that, it’s not yours” mentality from adults or the “You can’t use that because you’ll never put it back” response. I tried to live out the “what’s mine is yours, what’s yours is mine” approach when parenting my kids, especially when Aviah decided to take my markers without asking to create her masterpiece. Yet, my insides were boiling, and I wanted to yell at her, and remind her of what I had asked her to do so many times — to ask first. I played over the scene in my head of what it might look and sound like if I chose to yell. That pause made me consider how she would respond to my yelling. I knew in my heart she just wanted to create, and the markers helped her achieve her goal. I had to breathe my way through it, until I found my way to the other side of my anger.

One thing that I’ve come to understand is that I don’t want my kids to look back on their childhood and say I never recognized when I did something wrong. Raising girls can be a double challenge. While I want to teach them when and how to say they’re sorry, I don’t want them to apologize for things that they have no business apologizing for; other people’s emotions or neglectful choices. Owning their part remains the central lesson so I have to own my part.

Saying the words, “I am sorry” is an act of love. I’m learning that no matter what my perception of any wrong that may have been done or not done, it doesn’t necessarily matter if the person on the receiving end continues to feel hurt. Modeling when to use and when not to use the words, “I’m sorry” for my kids and answering the questions that they have along the way about why it is or isn’t important creates trust in our relationship and teaches responsibility. Together, as parent and child, we can learn in the classroom of life.

Nikkya Hargrove is an alum of Bard College and a 2012 Lambda Literary Fellow. She has written for the The New York Times, The Guardian, The Washington Post, Taproot Magazine, Elle, and more. Her memoir, Mama: A Black, Queer Woman’s Journey to Motherhood, is able to be pre-ordered now and published by Algonquin Books. She lives in Connecticut with her one son and two daughters and is a staff writer for Scary Mommy. Learn more at https://www.nikkyamhargrove.com.