Lessons from the Passenger Seat

By Jennifer Saber

“MOM!!!  

Didn’t you see that kid on the bicycle? I saw him.  How did you not see him?!”

I heard my son shriek from the passenger seat as I rolled to a halt in the crosswalk before making a right turn at the busy intersection.

My heart skipped a beat. Had my son not spoken up, the outcome could have been very different. 

Let me introduce you to my co-pilot.   At fifteen years old, my son is learning to drive, which means he is watching my every move with an eagle eye.  And correcting many of them.  My backseat driver, sitting in the front passenger seat.  

Since he started driver’s ed, nothing has escaped his notice.  In hindsight, that’s probably a good thing.

“MOM, you should keep two hands on the wheel and not drink your Panera Diet Pepsi with one hand.”  Knowing that he was right, I reluctantly accepted that by the time we reached our destination, my Diet Pepsi would be mostly melted ice.  I even resisted the urge to take a sip at red lights. 

“MOM, you need to drive the speed limit.  You’re not driving fast enough.  You’re going to get us killed.”  Disclaimer: I generally drive slowly when I’m tired.  I usually snap back with, “Well, at least I got you there safely.” Although in the back of my head, I know he is right.  

To be fair, I invited the feedback. My son is immersed in driver’s education right now, while I’ve been relying on driving habits developed over the past thirty-five years. After each ‘mistake,’ I try to put on my teacher hat and view it as a teachable moment. After all, I haven’t looked at a Driver’s Ed manual in decades. I invited him to point out things I could do better behind the wheel. I figured a verbal correction in real time in the car would help me become a better driver.  

What I didn’t anticipate was how difficult it would be to hear the feedback once he started giving it.

While I initially viewed my son’s comments as the observations of an overly enthusiastic driver’s ed student, they eventually forced me to confront a harder truth: receiving correction is often much more difficult than giving it. I was reminded of a story from the Talmud Bavli, Bava Batra 60a–b.

Rabbi Yannai had a tree that overhung the public way, and another man also had a tree overhanging the street. Some passers-by objected, and he was summoned before Rabbi Yannai.

[Rabbi Yannai] said to him, “Go away now and come again tomorrow.” During the night, [Rabbi Yannai] sent and had his own tree cut down.

The next day, the man came back and [Rabbi Yannai] told him to go and cut the tree down.

He (the other man) said, “But you, Sir, also have one?” [Rabbi Yannai] replied, “Go and see. If mine is cut down, cut yours down, and if mine is not cut down, you need not cut yours down…”

Why did he (Rabbi Yannai) not say to the man, “Go and cut yours down, and then I will cut down mine?” In conformity with the teaching of Resh Lakish, who said, “Trim yourselves and then trim others.”

At first glance, the lesson seems straightforward. Before correcting someone else, we should make sure we are willing to hold ourselves to the same standard. As a parent, I can certainly appreciate that message. If I expect my son to stop before entering a crosswalk, obey the speed limit, and keep both hands on the wheel, I should be doing the same. 

But as I sat with the story, I realized that wasn’t the lesson I needed most. The harder lesson wasn’t learning how to give correction. It was learning how to receive it. After all, I wasn’t the one pointing out mistakes. My son was.

And if I’m being honest, my first reaction isn’t always gratitude. Sometimes it’s defensiveness. I’ve been driving for decades. I’m the parent. He’s the student driver.

The Talmud anticipates this challenge as well. In Jewish tradition, tochecha refers to offering or receiving constructive feedback for the sake of growth and improvement. In the Babylonian Talmud (Arachin 16b), Rabbi Tarfon famously remarked, “I wonder if there is anyone in this generation who knows how to accept tochecha?” 

It turns out that asking for feedback is much easier than receiving it graciously.

As parents and grandparents, we spend years teaching the people we love. We teach them how to cross the street, ride a bike, tie their shoes, and eventually, how to drive a car. Along the way, it’s easy to assume that we are always the teachers.

But every so often, our children and grandchildren hold up a mirror and help us see ourselves more clearly. If we’re willing to listen, those moments can become opportunities for growth.

My son may be the student driver, but thanks to a missed bicyclist and a few well-timed reminders from the passenger seat, I’ve been reminded that I still have some learning to do myself.

When was the last time a child or grandchild held up a mirror and
showed you something about yourself–and were you willing to listen? 

To continue the conversation about the themes of Tochecha, join Chai Mitzvah’s virtual session on Tuesday, June 30, at 7:30 pm Eastern Time for “GRANDparents Circle: Grownup Conversation and Intergenerational Ideas to Take Home”.  Click here to register.

Jennifer Saber is the Manager of Community Engagement and Partnerships for Chai Mitzvah.