Before I had a child, I read a study on the factors that
cause children to grow up loving to read.
As an English teacher, I totally geek out on studies like this. The study showed children become
readers not based on how many books they have available to them, or even based
on how often their parents read to them.
The most important factor that can help determine a child becoming a
reader is having parents who are readers.
Children imitate. We are all imitators, really, hardwired to watch
others and mimic them.
So when I dream about the kind of life I want to build for
my son, I know that its not just the experiences I provide for him, the
developmental toys I buy for him, or the school I send him to that will equal
success, but it’s the life I live while raising him. To invite my son into a great story, I must live a great
story myself. To bring him into a
passionate life with Jesus, I must live a passionate life with Jesus. It’s not so much about doing all of the
right things for my son, but about living in a manner I would be proud for him
to imitate.
I’ve been mulling on this idea and this morning, as I nursed
my little man to sleep for his nap, I read Glennon Doyle Melton’s “Carry on
Warrior.” This passage jumped out at me:
“Usually when someone asks me a
question about parenting, I switch it into a question about grown-ups. How do I encourage my child to be kinder to
others? Becomes, How do I become
kinder to others? After reading the sixteenth parenting book that
contradicted the first fifteen, I quit trying to become a better parent and
decided to try becoming a better person.”
Yes—a concrete example of raising children with mimetic
desire on our side! (That’s for my husband; mimetic desire is his favorite philosophical subject. He must think I'm so hot right now, writing about mimesis and all.) I have already thrown the old mantra “Do
as I say, not as I do” out the window, but this idea of parenting mimetically
takes it to a whole new level.
Instead of hoping that I buy my son enough books for him to
love reading, I’m just going to read.
Instead of teaching him to share, I’m just going to share. It’s a lot simpler, although it’s a
little harder. Of course, every good story has conflict and every good character
has flaws. The point is not that
we have to do everything perfectly for our children to turn out okay. (Can I
get a hallelujah?!) I just have to get really good at handling the conflict and
character flaws in my story.
Over the years, my son will watch everything I do: every
comment I make, every sideways glance I give, every way in which I judge others
and pretend like I can decide whether they are in or out. He will see my
impatience. He will see my anger. He will see my mistakes. So, he will also see me ask for
forgiveness. He will see me say,
“I’m sorry”—a lot, probably. But I
hope that he also sees the overall theme of our story is that LOVE WINS and EVERYBODY’S
IN. You are in. I am in. By grace, we are all beloveds and no one is excluded. That
is a great story. And it begins
with me.
I am not the Author of the story I am inviting my son into,
but for a few years I am one of the main characters, and the Author kind of
lets me borrow the pen. I get to
decide the kind of character I will be and how I shape the story for my
son. I get to decide to teach him
kindness by being kind. I get to teach
him bravery by being brave. I get
to teach him about great Love by showing great Love. I get to teach him how to be the change he wants to see in
the world, by being that change first.
And I’m really excited that I get to teach him to read.
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