As a doctor and a parent, I often find myself more anxious than my children when they take the stage. Recently, I watched my youngest, Ben, participate in a school recital, and the nerves I felt were far greater than anything he displayed.
The event began with the teacher drawing names from a bowl to determine the performance order for the piano and violin. I took my seat, heart racing, recalling my own experiences with public performances. This month alone, I’ve witnessed my kids tackle challenges that make my stomach churn: first a spelling bee, and now a music recital. Despite the fear and worry that bubble up inside me, I always put on a brave face, smiling and cheering them on.
Ben’s Spelling Bee Experience
When Ben participated in the spelling bee, he approached the task with such poise. We practiced only when he suggested it, and I made sure to discuss how to manage the inevitable disappointment of misspelling a word. Deep down, I felt a flicker of hope that he might actually win—though I never voiced it. The day of the bee, I was overwhelmed with anxiety as I watched him stand in front of a crowd that seemed to stretch endlessly before him.
As the competition progressed, I could see the determination on Ben’s face until the pronouncer called out a word he had never encountered: “Ebullient.” His confidence faltered. Instantly, I felt a wave of guilt wash over me—we hadn’t prepared for that. He spelled it incorrectly and gracefully exited the stage, only to break down in tears once he returned to my side.
Jake’s Piano Performance
Meanwhile, my older son, Jake, was gearing up for his piano performance. He bounced nervously in his seat, tapping his foot as he awaited his turn. My focus was solely on him, my own anxiety bubbling to the surface. I recalled my own childhood recitals, where I would fixate on the keys in front of me, tuning out the audience entirely.
Finally, it was Jake’s moment to shine. He opened with “Jingle Bells,” hitting a wrong note but powering through to his second piece, the one he loved dearly: “Clair de Lune.” With each note, he captivated the audience—his playing was fluid, nuanced, and better than I had ever heard at home. I couldn’t help but beam with pride.
Reflections on Parenthood
It turns out that watching my children perform is even more nerve-wracking than stepping onto the stage myself. All I can do is prepare them and then cheer them on as they grow into their own. I strive to manage my fears and insecurities, hoping to let them soar without passing on my own anxieties.
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In summary, the experience of watching my children perform is filled with pride and anxiety as I navigate my fears while encouraging their dreams. My hope is to support them in their pursuits, ensuring they shine brightly without being overshadowed by my own worries.