Spare the Rod, Spoil the Child
Discipline, Regret, and Lessons of Parenthood
Many of our ancestors grew up under strict discipline, a tradition passed down through generations. My childhood was no exception. I still remember the reddish marks on my arms and legs from my father’s worn-out belt, and the sting of my mother’s wooden strip. Those moments often filled me with fear and resistance, as I tried to escape or defend myself. My father, however, justified it by saying it was far gentler than the horsewhipping his generation endured.
Times have changed. What was once called discipline is now widely considered abuse. New approaches to child development, shaped by psychology and law, promote more compassionate ways of guiding children. And yet, a question lingers: Are we raising better individuals with this modern approach, or are we at risk of raising children without boundaries?
This question became painfully real for me one night. Overcome with frustration at my daughter’s defiance, I lost my temper and struck her with a belt. She laughed off my first attempt to discipline her, which only fueled my anger. I struck harder, leaving marks on her arms, legs, and even her face. Her cries echoed through the house, and my own voice, shouting for respect, sounded foreign and harsh.
When the anger passed, regret came rushing in. I lay awake that night, haunted by the thought that I had hurt the very child I loved so dearly. Memories of her forgiving nature pierced me deeply. Despite her mischief in the past, she had always shown resilience, and recently, she had even been improving in her behavior. Yet there I was, trembling with guilt, realizing I had repeated the cycle of pain I once endured.
The next morning, my daughter’s simple routine of kissing my cheek before school weighed heavily on me. I asked my wife to bring the children to my bedside. With a heavy heart, I apologized to my eldest daughter. At first, she hesitated, unsure of my sincerity. But then, in her childlike grace, she softened. She leaned in for an embrace, and in that moment, her forgiveness was more powerful than any words I could speak. Both my daughters hugged me tightly, showering me with love I felt I hardly deserved.
That moment became a turning point. I realized my mistake was not just in the act itself but in forgetting that my daughter is still a child. I had disciplined her as if she were already an adult. True discipline must guide, not crush. It must correct, but also explain. And when we fail, it must come with an apology.
Parenting has taught me that discipline is a delicate balance. Harshness may enforce obedience but can wound trust. Too much leniency may build confidence but risk disobedience. The challenge is to walk the middle ground, to instill respect while nurturing love, to set boundaries without breaking spirits.
I cannot undo what I did that night, but I can choose differently moving forward. My goal now is to raise my children with compassion and moderation, to discipline with both firmness and tenderness, and to ensure they grow up knowing they are deeply loved.
Parenting is not about perfection; it is about progress. Every mistake is a reminder that we, too, are still learning. By choosing love over anger and guidance over punishment, we can raise children who not only obey but also trust, respect, and cherish the bond we share.
Discipline is doing what needs to be done, even if you don't want to do it.