The Satisfactory Apology

Leaving behind, for the moment, the proposition that forgiveness does more to comfort the forgiver than the forgiven, there is nothing like the eye-rolling “sor-reee!” of a six year old to make you think about the neccessary and sufficient conditions of apology. There came a point when I had to lay out for a child, given to unrepentant and insincere sounding apologies, the things I needed to hear in order feel apologized to… I realize that one has to spend only a short time on any playground to hear mothers and other caregivers demanding that their charges “say you’re sorry!” but I want my kids to get the art of the apology:
1) It helps to express concern for the person you’re apologizing too — an “are you ok?” (scratch this if the answer is obvious: blood, broken bones, and destruction of irreplaceable heirlooms are, more or less by definition, not ok. If the answer is obvious, you acknowledge what the other person is feeling and express the hope that they feel better soon.)
2) Express remorse. While elementary school metaphysics is a lot concerned with the intention (but I didn’t mean to do it! It was an accident! I shouldn’t have to apologize!) you can express remorse for carelessness, or for losing your temper, for not seeing your friend’s nose by your elbow, for being seized by jealousy. You must understand the difference between taking responsibility for your failure and excusing it — I was overcome by covetousness the sight of your shiny new bauble and seized it, and I was wrong… you don’t get to blame covetousness, the sun in your eyes, haste, anxiety or low blood sugar, even if they were contributing factors in your wrongness. You neeed to acknowledge that you were wrong, and too much explanation of why you were wrong pretty much dilutes the apology to meaninglessness.
3) You need to let the other person what you’re going to do to make it right, if it’s possible, saving your allowance until you can afford a new Ming vase or wiping up the mud you tracked onto the floor your mother just mopped.
4) It never hurts to express the measures you will go to to ensure that this doesn’t happen again, to promise to ask before borrowing, to take off your shoes in the hall when it’s muddy, to remember not to run in the house…

I know that number two is the hardest one for me; I have ancient memories of an apology not accepted because it was all about me. I really don’t like being wrong, and have urges to hide it or explain it away, when sometimes it’s simple wrongness. One of the things that has always impressed me about my husband is how he can cheerfully admit to being wrong, to making a mistake, without it seeming to crush his self-image… he has no expectations of being perfect, and his willingness to admit to mistakes is one of those paradoxical secure-people-are-so-surprisingly-humble-about-it things — it makes it impossible not to forgive him, and I try to learn from it, hope the kids inherit it.