If you’re attempting to measure your child’s Jewish educational progress against the masses, allow me to refer you to Pirkei Avot 5:21, the Sayings of our Fathers.
According to Judah ben Tema, a child, at five years of age, should study Scripture; at 10, Mishnah; at 13, the commandments; at 15, Talmud; and at 18, he should get married. The timeline lays out milestones through the age of 100, when one is “as good as dead.”
Impressed and appreciative, I went looking for further signposts for my sons’ development as it relates to his particular area of obsession: at what age, for example, should one master the ollie, frontside slappy or pop-shove-it? When did Shammai teach his son to drop in? What does Pirkei Avot have to say on the kick-flip?
Spoiler: the rabbis do not delve into the minutiae of age-appropriate skateboard tricks. I suppose the sages looked the other way when their sons took a break from their aspirations of rabbinical greatness to practice careening down steep angled surfaces on thin wooden boards.
Flashback to Rosh Hashanah 2022. We’re in Denver, where we’ve taken Darby, then eight, to a wicked skatepark. The goal is for him to work out his shpilkes by scootering and before getting on his skateboard — a new purchase that he thinks is completely rad (that’s right – “rad”). We need him in a good mood for the impending bombshell — that he’s going to be a big brother. That’s for a different article, though.
The Denver Skatepark is 60,000 square feet of concrete waves, bowls, dips and ramps, and I am so excited for Darby to experience it. Having watched his interest in all attempted team sports wane to nothing, it’s been a thrill to see how Darby’s love of scootering has turned him on to skateboarding: a movement intensive sport requiring grace, strength and incredible balance.
Forty-five minutes in, and I am growing impatient. He’s still on the scooter, seemingly bored — almost sullen — as he coasts along flat surfaces.
Why isn’t he challenging himself?
We bought him that sick skateboard (that’s right – “sick”) and he won’t even get on it…
We didn’t come to the best skatepark between coasts so he could scooter around…
Guess who’s sullen now? Sullen, impatient and snappish because my son isn’t challenging himself. He’s not meeting my standards.
Skateboarding is an activity that Darby discovered on his own, one that he loves, that gives him space to build confidence, to take at his own pace. And as I stand there, arms crossed, expecting him to perform in a way I never could, I realize I am ruining it.
Taking a deep breath, I leave Darby to my husband’s supervision and run a few laps around the adjoining pond. It’s a relief for everyone to be free of my judgmental glare.
The truth is, he’s still on his scooter because he’s nervous: Darby has never been a natural risk-taker, and this skatepark is new and gnarly (that’s right – “gnarly”). He’s not skateboarding because he knows himself. He doesn’t feel ready. When I return, I call Darby over. I can see that he’s wary and resentful of the way I’d been watching and needling.
“I love the way you take things in your own time. You know yourself, and I appreciate that you don’t let anyone rush you – not even me.” My hands are on his shoulders, and it’s probably freaking him out that I’m standing so close at eye-level. But I want him to hear me — and I want to believe it myself.
We shrug off whatever tension remains, smile and soon go and have a delightful and delicious lunch.
Pirkei Avot says distressingly little about pushing our kids to meet our arbitrary expectations. The need to learn Mishnah, commandments and so on is, of course, not arbitrary, but, rather, foundational to spiritual development both individually and communally. Skateboarding, however — physical risk taking, knowing one’s body, pushing one’s limits — that is for each child to measure and pace on his own.
Forgive me for mixing my Midrash here, but consider Rabbi Akiva. The words of Torah impressed upon him regarding the speed of water dripping on a rock. There was no overbearing mother seeking to blast him with scripture with the force of a fire hose. Would the rabbi have rejected Torah if his mother had tried?
My son, your child and Rabbi Akiva all need the space to learn and grow in the fashion and speed that fits them.
