I’ll start this article with a caveat like all sophisticated writers do (they don’t): I am not a child psychologist. I have two children, both are healthy in mind and body as far as we know. I have no idea what it is like to parent a child that is not one of my two children.
So, obviously, I know exactly what you should do with yours.
Here’s the deal: I live in Northern Virginia (NoVa for locals). If you don’t live here, it’s the suburban area southwest of DC in Virginia. It’s home to one of the top-rated school systems in the US. Our neighbors are government officials, politicians, government workers, military officers, business owners, corporate execs, medical professionals, and I’m sure a handful of shady folks who make a lot of money unethically.
There are folks from all walks of life mixed in. It’s diverse here in almost every way. The cost of living is sky high, but the demographics and household income vary greatly from town to town and block to block. But, as a monolith, NoVa is stereotyped as a wealthy, highly educated population with at least an osmotic taste for politics. In my experience, this stereotype is pretty close to accurate.
What happens when you get a bunch of rich, educated people together?
Miserable kids.
But really, the kids here are truly not OK.
My husband and I lived one town over in Fairfax at the beginning of our marriage, before moving to the Tidewater region of the state, where everyone moves about a quarter of the pace of NoVa. We visibly relaxed after the move. My husband even felt a little like he was being lazy because he was so used to the breakneck speed of NoVa life. I told him NoVa speed wasn’t a forward motion, but a spinning vortex.
After four years in a beach community, we got a call about a job back here in NoVa. It was a good opportunity and we’d be stupid not to take it. But both of us had the same thought: we have to protect the kids!
We wanted to protect them from the poison of perfectionism, performance-driven everything, and the insanely high expectations that the culture of this area has put on the children. This is the land that grooms astronauts, olympic gymnasts, doctors, and lawyers. Success happens. A lot. Mostly because the kids have no other choice. I mean, maybe they wanted to be those things. Here in NoVa, if you want to help a kid excel at something, there is a program or tutor or arena there for you. This is seen as a good thing by most people: opportunity breeds success!
Yes, but at what cost?
I’m gently hugging the border of hyperbole in my descriptions here, but you have to understand that it is not a big stretch from reality to exaggeration. I know that we are not the only community that has this culture. In fact, it has become sort of a suburban nightmare across the US. I don’t know if it’s because my generation was told “you can do anything!” and has discovered that they didn’t do everything, so now it’s our kid’s turn to try? I’m sure there are actual sociological and psychological studies out there about this.
But I’m just a parent of my two kids, and I think I’m doing a good job, so I’ll share my experience and see if it resonates.
They way my husband and I have endeavored to combat the insanely high expectations of the community on children… is to have really low expectations for our children. For clarity, I don’t mean I have expectations that my kids will “perform low” (whatever that means), I have less actual expectations. There’s a key in that subtle difference.
My children are very smart. One of them is in honors classes, but we didn’t put him in the extra-honors math class (yes, this is a thing), mostly because he didn’t want to. And also we didn’t want to. I hate math, and I don’t want to learn it all over again to help teach my 12 year old something that he has never expressed an actual interest in. He can do it, but should he? We decided no. This is what I mean about less expectations. Do I expect that the kid *could* succeed and do the math? Of course! I know he can. Do I expect the kid to be a math superstar? No, because why? I have placed no expectation on how “high” he should go with math, or how hard he should push himself, because I don’t have any expectation that he rival Einstein in mathematical success. Here’s the thing: if he was a math genius, he likely would have chosen that class (or not). Actually, if he were a math genius, he probably would have found a way to be successful with or without it.
This “lower expectations” method is slightly frowned upon in these parts. Don’t get me wrong, there are plenty of parents like myself who also make these choices to skip out on higher level “opportunities,” but I have a nagging feeling it is so their child can fully participate in all their other extra-curricular activities, or focus on their “thing.”
This is a tangent for further discussion, but why do we force children to specialize their interests at such a young age? Why can’t they literally play around with all the different stuff and never choose any of it? Isn’t that the point of childhood: playful practice? Yet so many of us feel like our kid must pick a thing (or four) and stick to it to show their commitment and responsibility. But really, why? Does a 9 year old really need to learn how to show the kind of commitment on par with a sacred vow? Why do we want kids to “stick with it” so badly? Do we feel guilty that we didn’t play tennis longer, or stay on the swim team? I bet you do actually feel guilty about that, I do a little bit. But guess what, maybe you were not meant to be a tennis player or professional swimmer. In fact, maybe your quitting saved you from having 5 shoulder surgeries like one of my friends who grew up here in NoVa and “specialized.” Also, I’m sorry those lessons cost you money, but if you expected every investment to have a life-long return, you should probably stop investing so much money into a child’s play. Let them play without making it about giving you your money’s worth. Let them play without projecting your own regrets on to them.
Part of what makes these lower expectations feel so wrong to many parents, is that we feel like we’re lowering our expectations on ourselves as parents. If we don’t sign them up for all the things, we’re the lazy ones. I bought into this for a while. I can’t even tell you what the magic turning point was for me, other than my kids continually didn’t want to do all the things and I continually didn’t feel like fighting it. I was forced to relax about it, and when we were all happier, I found the freedom in it. I decided that it was not only OK to lower the expectations, it was GOOD.
You know how many extra-curricular activities my children have? None. I mean, none that are constant. They’ve both taken classes with the local rec center, they’ve both done nature camps in the summer, they’ve both attended church and some of the programs associated with that. My youngest likes basketball, and as long as he keeps liking it, he’ll ask to sign up for the next session. He mentioned last year he might want to try soccer. OK. My oldest doesn’t like sports. Fine. Don’t do them. He takes walks daily and seems physically fit.
When the pandemic hit and children and parents alike were devastated by their sudden absence of extra-curricular activities, my kids were like: cool, more time at home. This isn’t a judgment, I remember wondering if I was a bad parent since my kids didn’t really have much to miss. I was second-guessing my “lower expectations” motto. Was I depriving them of a well-rounded life? Should I have pushed them to commit to more activities or at least choose one to hone in on? Should I have pushed them to at least try more stuff?
I’ve decided, no.
(I’d like to note how weirdly twisted it is that my kids’ happiness in the face of difficulty was a moment for me to wonder if I’d done something wrong as a parent.)
I have once again decided that I’m a great parent to my kids. That is not specifically because of my choices (or lack of activities for my kid). I mean, that’s how I roll, but more importantly, it’s how my kids roll. Their resilience and how they have risen to the challenges this past year reminds me that I haven’t been “spoiling” them or keeping them from cultivating commitment and perseverance. They have persevered better than my husband and I!
I think I’m a great parent *to my kids* because my kids are enjoying their childhood as far as I can tell. They’re not assholes, and they do what I ask. I know that other parents make different choices based on their kid’s needs. By all means, get that kid in all the baseball games, let your dancer dance in all the classes. Maybe their kid is the kind that needs a lot of social interaction or physical exertion, great, as long as the play fits the kid, I think we’re in good shape.
Being a good parent is less about setting expectations, and more about believing and trusting our children to be… well…. our children. We don’t need to micromanage their childhood.
My oldest really likes Marine Biology. A lot of his books are around that theme, some of our family outings are geared towards that, we invest in memberships to aquariums and that sort. He still likes Marine Biology, and we still give him opportunities to learn more and see more.
But there’s no pressure about where that will lead.
I mean, I did tell him if he ever owned an aquarium, I want an apartment with a wall of fish or Belugas or something. He agreed to this arrangement. I am supportive, but I’m not whispering in his ear everyday “One day you will discover the key to the next revolution in Marine Biology!” No, what I say during the documentaries that we watch is, “that looks fun, maybe that’s a job you might like in Marine Biology.” But if he says “nah, I don’t want to do that,” I say “OK.” Let him lead his life.
Same with my youngest. His current career goals are to partner with his brother at their future aquarium, be a professional basketball player, or a pastor like his Dad. I have said “cool- those all sound interesting!” I secretly do not want him to become a pastor because it is a ridiculously challenging job. But if he wants to, I won’t stand in his way. I suppose I’d have to answer to God if I did.
My guiding principle right now in parenting my kids is allowing them to follow their curiosity. I try very hard to keep my expectations of how long they stay curious about things to myself. I stay low budget on how much I assist their curiosity (I’ve been known to splurge from time to time, probably because I’m curious as well). If they’re curious, they’ll explore and engage. If not, they can follow their nose to another thing. My kids don’t need to decide their career path right now, they don’t even need to decide their hobbies. Nothing they experience or learn will be a waste.
My hope is that they learn that there are some things that hold their curiosity, and that it’s fun to delve deeper into something like that. I hope that they learn that the world is full of amazing things to be curious about. I hope that they learn that you can do what you love as a hobby, a job, or a calling. But it doesn’t necessarily need to be all three of those.
Maybe my oldest decides he likes a job that isn’t based on his curiosity, but more his skill set. Maybe he will be an accountant. Then he can go on exotic trips all over the world to see and experience different marine life. That would be OK. (My uncle teaches computer science and his hobby is underwater photography, it’s doable!) Or maybe my son does want to be a scientist and discover new things, also great. Honestly, maybe he decides marine biology is just something he knows a lot about and he finds a new curious path. Also fine.
I wonder how much of my vocational discernment might have been made easier if I didn’t put so much pressure on it to be EVERYTHING: calling, career, passion. Or to be the BEST at the thing.
I don’t know, but I do know that this last year when all the extra stuff was stripped away, my kids adjusted pretty well. Not because they are better or I am better, but maybe it was because their identity and lives are not defined by what they do, and more by who they are. They are still two boys, playing video games, going for walks, doing chores, sword fighting with large sticks, creating paper crafts, reading books, complaining about longer walks, whining when we drive so that their parents can get a change of scenery. They feel like real kids who aren’t worried about falling behind in something. They feel like, well, my children.
So, for what it’s worth, I wonder if being a crappy parent like I thought I was, might actually be a good thing. Invest less. Do less. Expect less. Then they can grow and flourish without the weight of our expectations.
In a way, this “lower expectations” method is simply a way of trusting our children to be themselves. If we trust them, they will have the confidence to become who they want to be, and that is more than good enough.
