This is the pattern of translation.
Now therefore hearken unto me, O ye children:
for blessed are they that keep my ways. KJV
And now, O sons, listen to me:
blessed are those who keep my ways. ESV
Now then, my children, listen to me;
blessed are those who keep my ways. TNIV
Dr. Waltke also supports the translation "parents" and "ancestors" instead of "fathers" for this same reason. It is important to realize that Hebrew does not have a gender inclusive term as English does, and the use of the masculine in Hebrew does not imply the exclusion of the feminine. Certainly mothers are considered to be primary teachers of the law alongside the fathers. For this reason, Dr. Waltke supports the mother staying at home with the children. (I have no opinion on this - sometimes she can and sometimes she can't.)
Dr. Waltke also mentioned that the last chapter of Proverbs had been composed by a woman, the mother of Lemuel, and taught to her son. She would be one of the women authors of the Hebrew scriptures.
I have read many posts and articles by complementarians which promote bringing up children in a certain way that would ensure their appropriate gender behaviour. One post mentioned buying a cooking set for girls and encouraging the boys to play with "army men". It brings tears to my eyes to think of children being brought up this way.
I want to write a bit about my own son, my dear son, who I lost a year ago. Last July he packed a light backpack and waved good-bye and left for a month in Europe. He sent a short email a few weeks later that he was now a member of the French Foreign Legion. He as a new identity, a new language and country, and, is now, as far as I know - somewhere in Africa. I hope to see him again in a few years.
How did I bring this boy up? Just before he was born I took my grade 8 piano exam so I played through 9 months of pregnancy. He has always loved classical music. When my daughter was born I bought him a baby doll with pj's and blanket and little bed. He would be playing with his blocks and get up once in a while and say "Baby cwying", run over to the doll, hug it and put it back to bed. I set up a chair in front of the stove for him when he was 4 years old, so he could make scrambled eggs himself. I taught him how to sew along with his sister. He embroidered a flower.
I read to them both all the classics, We bought them both duplo and brio, so they could play together, girl and boy, they made villages and trains tracks and acted out Heidi in the mountains. They both camped and ran and swam and played soccer. He started to play rugby, graduated from high school and went to work in the oil fields. I know he wants to go to university but he chose for the next 5 years to live in another place.
Somewhere in Africa there is a soldier who loves babies, knows how to cook and sew and play violin, who loves all the stories ever read to him. Somewhere in Africa is a soldier who plans to be a medic like his great grandfather, who, having fought in WWI, volunteered in WWII - overage - as an assistant chaplain so he could be there beside the young soldiers to hold them when they died. He never came home, I pray his great grandson will. The caregivers of the military are little spoken of in the annals of war.