Rites of passage

I teach a seminar at my school on rites of passage. We look at cultures throughout history and throughout the world and examine how they have moved young people to adulthood. The conversations in this class are usually lively- the kids I'm talking with are either going through some sort of passage or they're not, and in either case, it's something they really want to talk about.   Part of our discussion is always about how these rites of passage are often hard for their parents- not only are the kids changing, and changing into something that at first seems a little more dangerous, a little less controlled, but everytime a kid goes through some sort of passage, why then, so does the parent.  And most usually this means that there is some self-relization about that inevitable, never-ending, aging process.  For the most part, I have been able to have these discussions with my teenaged students and mentally flash back to my own experiences as a teen in the 80's.  I usually have been able to identify with them, not with their parents.  But that time is coming to an end.

Here's how I know.  We were up at Camp Dunord this August and we spent quite a bit of time in canoes.  For the first few days Eli was eager to try out his paddling, from the bow. But then one day he saw his cousin Sam trying out the stern and he got the crazy idea in his head that he'd like to try that.  And try it he did.  And not only did he get it, but he liked it.  And while that is fabulous and great and cool- it's so neat to see him back there in the stern, taking a little control, being in charge of our route, it's also hard, because to see him back in there in the stern I have to twist around from the dang bow!  I hate the bow.  I always thought that it was just less comfortable (you can't rig up a lounger from the bow so easily) but now that Eli is actually in the stern and I am pretty sure that I am never going to be welcome back there again as long as he is in the canoe, I see it from a whole new angle.  I hate the bow because you are not in control!  This here is a big self-realization for me.  Some of you others may be thinking, finally, she figures out that she is as much as a control freak as her very own dear mother.  Sorry Mom.  But it took Eli moving from the bow to stern for this to sink in.  Not only am I not in control, but Eli, my child, is.  Help.  And so as I prickle up with pride to see my first born become capable and strong and comfortable in the stern, I find myself a little uncomfortable up here in the bow.  And then I get to thinking, this journey has really only just begun.  This is only one of the very first small steps toward his move to eventual (or so we hope!!) adulthood.  And even though now he's still at the stage where he will take some coaching from the bow and he really doesn't quite notice when I sneak in some steering-type strokes from the front, as we travel further down this path I think my input will be asked for, and maybe required, less and less.  And I'm not sure how I feel about that.  Actually, that's not true. Right now I'm pretty sure I feel quite uncomfortable with it.  But I know, from my teaching experience, that this is actually how I am supposed to feel.  I just wish that made me like it more.  I know I know I know that I shouldn't get all hung up just because Eli moved into the stern during a little canoe trip across a bay at Burntside lake.  But to me it marks the beginning of his passage into eventual adulthood, which I admit would be a problem if he never made that leap, but it made me come face to face with the fact that I'm moving on to something else here too.  Something that starts with the word middle and ends with the word aged.  I can not bring myself to bring those two words any closer together for the time being.  The good thing about these transitions is that if they are done right, we have some time to make adjustments along the way.  And so far, Eli seems very content to have me in his bow.  There might be a day when he wants to throw me right out of the dang canoe.