I have two sons who are about to enter middle school, and they aren't very good at studying.
For years, I've felt a bit worried every time I looked at their report cards, but since they seemed to be enjoying life in other ways, I didn't let it bother me too much.
Besides, I myself had always watched them grow up with the mindset of "If they're healthy and happy, that's enough," so I couldn't bring myself to suddenly say "Study harder" now.
My eldest son will become a high school student next year.
With exams finally approaching, perhaps realizing things were getting serious, he one day said, "I want to go to cram school." He spent this entire summer break working hard on his exam preparations.
Despite being bad at studying, my eldest is great at skateboarding. Actually, he's quite skilled. It's impressive for a middle schooler.
He spins the board incredibly fast. Probably doing some amazing tricks, but it's so fast you can barely see it.
He has been practicing consistently since fourth grade, and before we knew it, he had devoted nearly six years to it. This is undoubtedly the result of effort.
On the other hand, my younger son was mildly truant from school for a while.
He would say things like "I feel a bit sick," "I'm sleepy in the morning," or "I just don't feel like it today..." The reasons were very vague.
We weren't sure what to do, so sometimes I would walk him to school saying, "Come on, let's go."
Recently, he seems to be in a good mood and is attending school normally again.
What was that mild truancy about that lasted for half a year?
This younger son has excellent athletic ability. Recently, he was selected for a relay team and ran at the National Stadium. He isn't even in the track and field club; he's simply fast.
He is fast and good at all sports. Whatever you try, he usually picks it up quickly.
Also, one day he suddenly said, "I want to play piano," so we gave him an electronic keyboard, and he played non-stop. Without anyone telling him to, he practiced continuously, and before long, he could play normally.
His concentration when he gets into something is abnormal.
There's already a hint that he might become an interesting adult. However, I haven't yet seen that extraordinary focus applied to academics.
Anyway, both of them have things they like and are good at. And most importantly, they are living healthily.
"It's enough if they grow up healthy"
I have watched my two sons with this thought in mind. But recently, I've been thinking about these words. Isn't the wish for them to "grow up healthy," which I casually made, actually something incredibly precious?
Perhaps we forget its value simply because it is already there.
That's why we tend to say, "It's enough if they grow up healthy [if]."
The word "[if]" contains my assumption that health and vitality will continue forever.
Because they were healthy today, they will be tomorrow. Because they were healthy this year, they will be next year.
Because they have grown up healthy so far, they will continue to do so. There is no guarantee, yet "healthy" gradually becomes "normal."
We usually only realize the importance of health when it is lost. We should truly cherish it by thanking them daily for being healthy, saying out loud, "Thank you for being healthy today."
Thinking about this, I believe parents unknowingly take "the preciousness that is already here" as "normal."
And the moment it becomes "normal," we start seeking the next thing.
If they are healthy, we want them to study well. If they study well, we want them to be good at sports.
If they are good at sports, we want them to go to a good school.
Once we get one thing, we place it on the shelf of "normal" and look further up.
Of course, children's growth brings joy to parents. Seeing them achieve what they couldn't before is delightful.
But wishing for them to "get better" and believing that "now is already good" can probably coexist.
I want to always keep in mind that the present is already good and wonderful.
Back to the topic.
A friend recently made a movie, so I went to a screening.
The film is called The Invisible Daughter.
It's a story about a family raising a daughter born as a transparent human.
Although it was a premise I had never heard before, it was a movie where scenes kept replaying in my mind after watching.
The invisible daughter is the youngest of three sisters. Their mother has passed away, and the father raises the daughters alone. It would be problematic for society to know about the existence of the third sister, who is transparent. Therefore, the family of four lives quietly on a remote island.
This third sister is invisible, but her voice can be heard, and she can be touched. She definitely exists there. The family makes various adjustments and lives happily, rather, quite enjoyably.
The three sisters are also extremely close.
I have only experienced raising "normally visible children," but the movie shows the struggles and ingenuity involved in parenting an invisible daughter. It must be tough. She is invisible. No parenting book says "How to raise a transparent daughter."
Searching "transparent human daughter parenting" won't yield answers either. (In fact, this movie will surely become the bible for raising transparent humans.)
Though it is a story, I felt the parents must have gone through considerable hardship.
However, the transparent third sister herself is a wonderful child, likely thanks to the love she received. She is lively, curious, playful, and kind.
Just because she is invisible. As I watched the movie, I grew to like the invisible third sister more and more. By the end, she became an incredibly lovable presence.
Even though The Invisible Daughter presents a situation I had never considered, watching it inevitably makes you think, "What would I do?"
Sons who are bad at studying, or who become vaguely truant.
Daughters who might be born as transparent humans.
Of course, the size and type of problems vary greatly from family to family.
At the same time, I thought: Aren't there things hidden in the shadow of those "problems" that we can no longer see?
Children don't grow up exactly as we expect. Those "deficiencies" are surprisingly easy to spot. Parents notice them precisely because they care. But the "things that are already there" right next to them are often invisible.
Being healthy. Laughing. Having things they like. Being able to immerse themselves in something. Being kind. These things are there every day, so they become background noise.
The Little Prince has a famous quote:
"What is essential is invisible to the eye."
In the climax of The Invisible Daughter, there is a scene where the third sister gets lost in Shinjuku.
An invisible child getting lost. Normally speaking, this is terrifying. Even when a visible child gets lost in a mall, parents sweat profusely, but an invisible daughter getting lost in Shinjuku is a major crisis. The father panics, and the eldest and second sisters say:
"Mom used to say. If you close your eyes, you can see a little bit."
So the three of them close their eyes to search for the third sister. Then, in the darkness, they see something faintly sparkling. That was the third sister. This scene stayed in my head.
To find what is important, instead of straining your eyes, you close them.
Some things become less visible the more you try to see them, and only appear when you momentarily close your eyes.
Saint-Exupéry left us the words, "What is essential is invisible to the eye."
But as we grow older, we start counting only what is visible. Grades. Schools. Jobs. Titles. Appearances and wealth.
What they can do, what they cannot. What they have, what they lack.
But perhaps what is truly important is already there.
It is just there every day, so we have stopped seeing it.
They are already growing up healthy.
What we wished for is already here.
