I am the proud parent of two teenagers. I am proud of them for who they are, and I am honestly proud of myself for doing my best to raise them. I want to be clear on the "doing my best" part of this, because I am so, so far from perfect. As a matter of fact, I am constantly questioning everything that I say and do. Sometimes things don't seem to translate over so well and I wonder if we are speaking different languages. I am on a steep learning curve of understanding when to get involved and when to give them their space. But I am clear with them that I am trying, and that I care. I want them to know that I truly am trying my hardest to be the best parent for them that I can be. Because that is all I can do, given what I have and what I know.
That being said, I was recently faced with a situation that I really had to wrestle with. My kids are tennis players, and they are pretty good. I grew up as a junior tennis player. I traveled around Michigan, played tournaments, and made the varsity high school tennis team all the years of my high school career. I ended my senior year as captain of the team, and our team even made it to the state finals for the first time in many moons. I was offered college scholarships and turned down the opportunity to play for Western Michigan University.
I don't share this all to brag. As I look back at those times, it was a different parenting generation. My parents were very hands off. They both worked, a lot. In high school, my parents both worked second shift. That meant that I was on my own, as my older brothers were in college. I researched and signed myself up for tournaments. I drove myself to tournaments. I did not have a fan base in the stands, unless it was a friend of mine. And by the way, this was normal at the time - rare was the parent who sat in the bleachers at a tennis match, though it did happen. I still remember one of the freshmen on our high school team, who had her parents at every match during my senior year. But they were truly the only parents who attended consistently. My parents came out a few times when they could. But the point is that I had to be the driver. My parents supported me financially, and I am forever grateful for that.
So now the tables are turned a bit. Sure, I financially support my children, but I am more helicopter parent than my parents were. Part of it is because I can. I work days. I can take flex my hours or take a day off in order to tend to my kids and their activities. My parents worked afternoons, and when you work on the assembly line, you can't leave for a couple of hours. But the other difference is this generation of parenting. Parents are more hands on. The tennis matches have parents there, consistently. The norm has shifted an entire 180.
The other change is the driver. This is my big realization. I have to be careful. Just because I wanted to do all these things - take lessons, go to clinics, drive to tournaments, play on the high school team - doesn't mean that my kids want what I want. This year, my daughter did try out and make the high school tennis team. I am proud of her beyond measure. Tryouts were tough. They worked a lot harder than the kids did when I was a player, for sure. There were two a days, there were late nights and early mornings, there was a lot of running, and even agility drills. It was so hard for me to bite my lip and watch the end of some of these tryout sessions. She was exhausted. It was HOT. And what I had to do was watch, support, and NOT tell her what to do. I wondered if she was going to quit. I questioned what I should say if she told me she was dropping out. She didn't. She worked it out, on her own. I realized something big at that point: she is growing up. She has to experience herself these challenges and work through them herself. I can't sit there and share with her what I did. My experience doesn't matter to her. Her experience matters to her.
In short, I realize that what I wanted as a teen is not necessarily what she wants as a teen. I wanted to be one of the top junior players in the region. I wanted to play as many USTA tournaments as I could. I wanted to play tennis for a college team. I was driven to play kids who were more skilled than me. I wanted to be pushed to be the best that I could possibly be.
What I just realized is all that doesn't mean anything to my kids. I don't know that they want all these things. Actually, I highly doubt it. This concept really smacked me in the face this week.
My son and I are looking at where he should take tennis lessons. He tried out two different places this week. Place number 1 was pretty good. The instruction was solid. The level of play was on par with my son's ability level. Actually, he was winning a lot of point play match ups. The drive and cost were reasonable.
Place number 2 was also good. The instruction I thought was slightly superior. The level of play was higher. My son was very challenged. He hardly won any point play. The drive and the cost were about the same as place number 1.
My son wanted to sign up at place number 1. Meanwhile, I wanted to sign up at place number 2.
I spent two days debating what to do. And here is what I realized. I wanted place number 2 because all I was thinking about was his progression as a tennis player. I knew that at place number 2, he would be able to rise to the next level of performance, win more matches, progress farther in high school tennis, and improve his form/strokes/game strategy. Playing those harder players would force him to play harder and better, in my mind.
I wasn't thinking about what place number 1 was giving him. Being able to win some point play I find builds his self confidence. He also was starting to make some friends on the court. In short, he was having more fun there.
I had to take a step back and ask myself what we are trying to do here? We aren't at Wimbledon and we aren't trying to get there, either. We are here to play a sport, hopefully for life. Ultimately, I did not even wind up playing college tennis, because I decided to choose academics over athletics in my decision making. I have no regrets over that, and though I have taken breaks from tennis over the years, I always come back to playing and I love the sport for what it is.
I don't see my kids as wanting to play college tennis. Ultimately, what I hope for my kids is that they are able to grow in confidence by playing this game, and make some friends along the way. Winning matches and solving challenges on the court, and even at times going down in defeat, are building blocks of experience. It doesn't have to be crazy competitive to be character building. Tennis made me stronger as a person and gave me grit. But I didn't have to be at a fancy tennis academy in order to achieve that. In retrospect, I wish I would have spent more time enjoying it, having fun and being in the moment. That's how my son plays. He enjoys it and I want him to keep coming back for more, naturally. Place number 2 would not keep him coming back. I signed him up for place number 1.
If he doesn't make the high school tennis team, it is not a big deal. If my daughter decides to quit the team, it's not the end of the world. I have had to make peace that my dreams are not theirs. And their life is theirs only. It's their turn. They get to decide their own goals and desires. I have to hold back. I am here to watch, support, and be their safety net if they fall.
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