Derby and Dadhood

A funny thing happened last weekend -- Jerzey Derby Brigade played a game in which the entire referee crew consisted of referees which I trained. To my knowledge this is the first time this has happened. It was a source of vast amusement (and a bit of subtle pride) for my students. To surpass one’s teacher is the goal of every mentorship, and several of my proteges are beginning to do just that.

I was absent from the game to officiate a tournament in Maine. Such events always bring mixed emotions -- I enjoy the intense nature of multi-day officiating, but I miss my son Devon while I’m gone. Devon is seven years old and a recent addition to the “fresh meat” program of the local junior derby league. He’s learning his basic skating skills in a process that will take him a couple of years as he matures physically and mentally. He’s very shy and doesn’t understand why being on a team means he has to talk to the other skaters.

My son has another habit during practice -- he refuses to learn from me. He’s happily talk, play games, and do other “fun stuff”, but he refuses to let me teach him how to skate. He’ll work with any of the other coaches and volunteers, but me? Not at all. He immediately argues the moment I give him the slightest suggestion. The other skating parents on the rink tell me this experience is not uncommon. Their children are happy to work with me, but want nothing to do with their own parents.

This makes me consider my own father whom I lost two years ago. Was he equally proud and frustrated while teaching me? I have no doubt he was although my memories have grown hazy over the years.

Herein lies one of the frustrations of being a parent; some lessons cannot be taught by one’s parents, or at least only with great difficulty. There are many reasons for this. Some lessons require additional maturity. Some lessons are learned while balancing the need to exert one’s independence. And some lessons simply cannot be taught by others; they must be experienced to be learned.

Teaching others is at the core of the human experience. There is always a new generation that needs to grow and learn. I know this as a son. I know this as a teacher of referees. And I know this as a deeply, deeply proud father of a seven year-old boy.

So I spend Devon’s junior derby practices teaching the other children. I watch Devon from the far side of the rink as he slowly grows and learns. Every completed practice and every bit of physical and personal growth is another victory. He is learning to skate just as he is growing into a mature person -- oh, so slowly at times -- but the progress is there and it makes me proud when it happens.

This is why we celebrate Father’s Day -- to thank our fathers for teaching us lessons we didn’t always want to learn. Thanks for everything, Dad. I miss your gentle presence in my life. Know that I repay your kindness every day by being a devoted father to my son.