This week is markedly different in many homes across the state. No lunch boxes are being corralled. No homework is being searched for. The library books have all been returned. And in many homes, the children are home for the summer.
Most parents know this can feel like a mixed blessing. We love our children, and want to spend time with them. But as the sparkly newness of summer vacation starts to wear off, and the chorus of "I'm bored" starts to get louder, many parents can start to worry about making it through the summer in one piece. For some, the answer is to sign their kids up for every program and camp they can find. But that can get expensive, and it bypasses an important opportunity we have to actually teach our children something real.
It seems that in many families, the parents' role as a teacher has dimmed somewhat. Sure we are aware that our children learn a great deal from us, but more and more, our culture expects others to teach our children the basic skills they need for life. My mother was an incredible cook -- she actually wrote a few cookbooks while I was growing up. But oddly, when I left the house, I could cook only a couple of meals -- spaghetti, roast chicken and coq au vin, as I recall. It was only a couple years ago that I learned how to make bread well and every piece of bread I ate as a child was homemade. It's funny that the thing my mother could have taught me the most about wasn't carefully passed down. My father was a fantastic carpenter, but I have only recently come to understand the basics of constructing things from wood.
And I wish a million times over he had taught me all he knows about engine mechanics because this remains the last frontier of my world. Over the past few years, I have had to teach myself plumbing, electrical, construction, how to run a chainsaw and split wood and even the basics of septic system operation (groan). My parents could have taught me all of that, and so much more, saving me years of frustration as I fumbled through relearning information that I know they struggled with, too, in their early years of farming.
That's not to say I didn't learn anything from my parents -- I have an intuitive sense about gardening that can only have come from growing up on a farm with my fingers in the dirt. I know how to care for animals. But somewhere along the line, we seem to have forgotten that it is our job as parents to actually teach our children these basic skills of existence: How to check your tire pressure and your oil; how to cook a decent meal in a half-hour or less; how to wash and fold your laundry; how to shop for groceries; and how to balance the checkbook. Instead, our children go to enriching camps for art and music and sports, which is great, but do we honestly think our kids are somehow going to avoid having to perform these basic skills, too?
At my farm, I am host to a steady stream of young people, many of whom are just getting started living on their own. They come and stay with us for weeks or months at a time, and I see firsthand the results of the modern-day style of parenting. Some youth have the basic skills under their belt -- they can cook a rudimentary meal, wash their clothes without shrinking them and know to put the cap back on the toothpaste. But the majority miss the boat entirely. If left to their own devices, they eat a lot of peanut butter sandwiches.
I believe this is the result of a disconnect between parents and their children when it comes to being the primary teachers for our young. We are not doing anything for them by acting as servants, taking care of their needs and expecting little of them in return. We are not teaching them the things they need to know to move easily into adulthood, like how to thread a needle and mend a rip in your clothes, or how to season a cast iron pot. Perhaps some of those skills will be archaic by the time they reach adulthood, but most will still need to know how to clean their toilet, I'd bet.
So this summer, I'm making a list of things my children are going to learn. I call it Camp Carey. Together, they are going to make a meal each week -- a different one each time -- completely without me. They are going to do their own laundry, start to finish. They are going to check the oil when I pump the gas. I am going to teach my children to wash windows so they end up cleaner than when they started. They are going to work toward an end-of-summer prize -- a trip to their favorite waterpark -- by selling eggs and other produce. If you think for a moment that this endeavor is going to make my life easier this summer, you are completely off base. I know that each of these lessons is going to be as much work for me -- if not more -- than for them. But this summer is a great opportunity to focus on the job I signed up for -- parenting. And hopefully, when they leave home, they won't be as gobsmacked by the learning curve of life as I was. That's a gift I'm willing to work hard to give them.
Carey Restino is editor of The Bristol Bay Times and The Arctic Sounder, where this commentary first appeared.
The views expressed here are the writer's own and are not necessarily endorsed by Alaska Dispatch, which welcomes a broad range of viewpoints. To submit a piece for consideration, e-mail commentary(at)alaskadispatch.com.