The Courage to Wait

3 ways to find the patience we need

In some ways, parenting is a very active form of waiting.

We wait, excitedly and anxiously, to see who on earth is emerging in front of us. How will their talents, struggles, and personality make themselves known?

We wait to see if we’re up to the task of parenting. How will we know what to do? Will someone tell me if this is normal? Will they be ok?

Great teaching has a surprising amount of waiting too.

Great teachers set the conditions but know that students do their own growing. We may try to choose a worthy problem, to listen, to challenge a student at the right moment. But then, we wait. Do they lean in or check out? When will the potential we see in them show itself?

Here’s the challenge: how many people in modern times are good at waiting? This extraordinary technological world we live in is full of marvels, but patience is not one of its virtues. Most of us are trained to have profound anxiety around time, in part because of our schooling. Our inability to wait blocks many of our best moments as parents or teachers.

What better examples are there? I’ve written before about the unforgettable experience of witnessing midwives deliver my second and third children, watching in amazement as they spent most of the wild and tumultuous delivery process in a very active state of waiting. Sitting in a corner, not interrupting unless it was essential, they blanketed us in confidence with their poised watchfulness. When it was important, they stepped in firmly. And when my wife was working through labor in her own process, they were quiet but very present. I learned more in those two nights about teaching and guiding than in some whole years of work.

Here is a catch for parents, though. Midwives develop this wisdom from supporting dozens or hundreds of births. Great teachers hone their craft across many classes of students. But parents? We don’t have the benefit of practicing on our first 50 children in order to become superb at raising our next 100 children. We’re in the arena now, with the one or handful of them that matters so much to us, minimal experience, and no re-do’s.

So: what would it take for us to have some of the wisdom of a practiced midwife? How could we become excellent at waiting? Here are three steps in that direction:

1. Anchor ourselves developmentally. The midwives I witnessed knew the stages of birth like the backs of their hands. They knew the signals of each phase, when the turning points were about to come, when to lean in. While it’s a little harder to know the stages of childhood with as much precision, there is significant research on developmental stages. This is the basis of my book, outlining the three stages that most adolescents move through (seeking Belonging, then Achievement, then Authenticity).
   
   When you understand these and know what signals to look for, you gain the ability to locate a young person developmentally. When you’ve located them, you know what they’re working on, what need is motivating them. Then you can understand what they’re really trying to do — it may not be obvious in the behaviors you see — and how you can support them in meeting that developmental need. A developmental map gives you priceless confidence and clarity.
   

2. Distinguish between struggle and harm. It is excruciating to see someone we love, and perhaps someone we perceive as vulnerable or less skilled, go through suffering. What parent would not yearn to leap in. But leaping in too quickly can sometimes do its own harm. Several studies, including one last year from Stanford, show the dangers of stepping in too quickly, at least with young children. The Stanford researchers described it this way: “The children of parents who more often stepped in to provide instructions, corrections or suggestions or to ask questions – despite the children being appropriately on task – displayed more difficulty regulating their behavior and emotions at other times.”
   
   I believe a similar effect applies in the adolescent years. Say your middle schooler has just had friendship drama — do you step in? What is the line between a rude classmate and a bully? Is their anxiety about an upcoming test good motivation or unhealthy stress?
   

   There are of course no simple answers here, but there can be a consistent response. To pause. If you feel fearful, ask yourself what you are assuming about their experience. Is there clearly lasting harm, or is this struggle? Could your child potentially surprise you and handle it better than you think? Have they asked you for help? There are many situations that demand rapid interventions — but please don’t save them from moments of fruitful struggle.
   

3. Give yourself a strong dose of long-term-ism. I once heard a talk by the wonderful educator and professor Alfie Kohn, who is known for both his humor and his no-holds-barred statements about what education should be. I thought he might rile up the audience with some of those bold statements, but he did something quite different and ingenious. He asked us all to go into the future. Forget for a moment about college admissions, or how to get your kid to do their homework. He asked, what kind of person do you want your child to be when they’re 40? Now we’re not talking about AP scores anymore. Most everyone in that audience, which had a wide range of parenting styles, said similar words. We want them to be happy. To find meaningful and good work. To know how to maintain a loving partnership. And so on.
   
   When you’re fearful about a current situation in your child’s life, tempted to intervene right now before something terrible happens, try this exercise first. Who do you want them to be like when they’re 40? In that light, how much concern does this situation merit? Does it really require our intervention? And if we must intervene, how can we do so in a way that doesn’t accidentally send them a message that difficulty is to be avoided, or that they can’t solve problems on their own?

I have to admit, sometimes when I try to take on the midwife spirit with my kids it feels awkward. I’m so used to doing. Sometimes I feel lazy, just sitting and watching while my kids talk or play. Sometimes another form of impatience emerges and I end up checking my phone. But once in a while, something different happens. It’s like I’ve stepped out of the storyline. What if I don’t need to step in immediately when one sibling howls at another? Sometimes I wait just a moment — but in that moment one of them walks over to me for help, rather than me leaping in. I have a suspicion that makes a difference. Just a small addition to the long-term bet I’m making that they are trustworthy and capable humans from the start.

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Book Update

Finding the Magic in Middle School continues to be on a wonderful adventure of its own, popping up like the mythical garden gnome all over the country and beyond. Recently I added a book group guide, after hearing that several book clubs or parent groups were reading it and wanted some discussion prompts. I’m making a pledge to join one book club event per month by Zoom, so if you’d like to read it with yours, let me know and I’ll do my best to join!

Meanwhile, I finally finished recording the audiobook! Wow—talk about something that seems so easy (“how hard can it be to just read the book aloud?”) but has infinite devils in the details. All I can say is, I’m glad it’s finally done now, and it should be released later this month on Audible!