Like any literature enthusiast, I eagerly grabbed Harper Lee’s Go Set a Watchman on the day it was released. While I hold To Kill a Mockingbird in high regard, my connection to it doesn’t quite match that of many others, even though the name Scout has lingered in my mind for a future daughter. I first encountered Mockingbird during my college years while studying English education, and it was a revelation. The depth of its prose, the richness of its characters, and the strength of its voice captivated me.
In the early days of my teaching career, I observed my colleagues expertly using Mockingbird to introduce high school students to critical discussions about race, justice, and activism, drawing inspiration from Atticus Finch’s unwavering integrity. However, my teaching friends are now grappling with the Atticus portrayed in Watchman, feeling disillusioned by his troubling views on segregation, which starkly contrast with the idealized figure many of us admired.
Much has been said about Atticus’s disturbing desire to uphold segregation. His disdainful mention of the “NAACP” feels like a painful wound for readers who grew up idolizing him. This version of Atticus is a far cry from the hero beloved by parents who named their children after him, leaving many to reconsider that choice.
Nevertheless, there are still valuable lessons to glean from Atticus, especially as I navigate parenting my own little girl, who shares qualities with the Scout we know and love. As I reflect on Watchman, I see insights about nurturing and loving a child, even when faced with challenging truths. If you’re planning to read the book, be prepared for a discussion of its climax from this point onward. My intention isn’t to excuse Atticus’s repugnant beliefs on race; they are indefensible. However, it’s evident that he loves his daughter deeply, even as he embodies aspects of a flawed society.
The narrative follows Jean Louise—Scout, now an adult—as she grapples with reconciling the father she idolized in her childhood with the man she now sees reading inflammatory literature with his gnarled hands. Returning from New York City, she navigates the pull of her Southern roots and the complexities of love, family, and activism. She articulates this inner conflict poignantly, stating, “Dear goodness, the things I learned. I did not want my world disturbed, but I wanted to crush the man who’s trying to preserve it for me.”
As Jean Louise seeks to reconcile these two versions of Atticus, readers anticipate the moment when her childhood hero will align with the father she perceives now. This climax offers profound lessons about parenting in a world that may not always appreciate or understand our children. Orphaned at a young age, Scout and her brother Jem become the focal points of Atticus’s life. Despite the flaws he exhibits, he strives to be present for them—playing games, crafting stories, and listening to their woes. He reads to them every night until his voice falters, demonstrating unwavering dedication.
Atticus’s presence is bolstered by Calpurnia, their “Negro cook,” a detail Jean Louise often overlooks due to her privilege. Nevertheless, to a child, Atticus is a constant figure, taking them to various experiences—football games, political gatherings, church, and late-night office visits. However, it’s not just about being there physically; he also encourages Scout to forge her own path, which is often the most difficult aspect of parenting. After her graduation, Scout feels rejected when Atticus nudges her to seek independence, suggesting she explore New York or elsewhere. Initially insulted, she later realizes the wisdom in his advice; he wishes for her to be self-sufficient.
In a world that often embraces various parenting philosophies, Atticus’s insight remains relevant. He understands the necessity of letting her break free. The novel’s conflicts arise from Jean Louise—and perhaps America’s—idealization of Atticus’s Mockingbird persona. Upon returning from the city, she confronts the reality of her father as a flawed man desperately trying to cling to a fading way of life.
Yet, the story doesn’t end there. In a pivotal moment, Atticus reveals his understanding that he must dismantle Jean Louise’s romanticized image of him for her to thrive in a new world. When she confronts him about his segregationist beliefs, comparing him to Hitler, she expresses her despair: “You’re the only person I think I’ve ever fully trusted, and now I’m done for.” Instead of coddling her, Atticus responds, “I’ve killed you, Scout. I had to.” Her retort, “I despise you,” marks the peak of their emotional clash.
This moment encapsulates the essence of parenting: “Well, I love you.” Atticus absorbs her anger and affirms his love for her—not despite her feelings, but because of them. In this exchange, he recognizes her journey toward becoming her own person, even if it means losing her in the process. This struggle reflects a broader narrative about America’s relationship with its heroes.
In conclusion, while Atticus Finch’s character may provoke mixed feelings, his journey offers critical insights into parenting—especially the importance of presence, the challenge of fostering independence, and the enduring power of love amidst conflict.
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Summary: This article explores parenting lessons from Atticus Finch in Go Set a Watchman, highlighting his complex character and the importance of love, presence, and fostering independence in children, even amidst flaws and societal challenges.