LET YOUR KIDS BE BORED
My mom was, and still is, the opposite of pushy
I was born in northeast England, the second of two daughters.
I had a large extended family and we all lived close by and saw each other regularly.
I enjoyed a traditional childhood in the 1970s and ’ 80s, watching too much television and eating convenience food because nobody cared if kids did that then.
My mom was, and still is, the opposite of a pushy mom. She didn’t have ambitions to launch my sister and me in any direction.
Which is why the news this week that parents should be careful not to aim too high for their children, as anxiety makes them fail exams, caught my attention.
Analysis of math results showed the children of over- aspiring parents did worse than children whose parents had realistic aims.
It’s not news that stress is detrimental to performance, but admitting that we cause our children to feel this way is.
People aren’t pushy to be cruel: People are pushy because they are scared. After all, it wasn’t long ago we were told that aspirations lifted grades.
I’m not saying my mother didn’t have ambitions for me.
She worked in various administrative jobs that fitted around our school hours, yet she often told me I could do anything I wanted.
I could be an astronaut, princess, engineer, actress or brain surgeon, but she never offered guidelines as to how this might be achieved. I got the feeling her ideas were daydreams, rather than serious suggestions.
Truthfully, my mother’s assessments of my talents were always far too generous. She thought I was brilliant at everything — even the things I was clearly very average at — so saw no need for extra lessons, practice or tutoring. She was blinded by love.
Quite quickly, I noticed a gap between my mother’s assessment of me and reality. While she insisted I was beautiful, I noticed I was significantly overweight in comparison with my friends. It never crossed her mind to put me on a diet or make me take regular exercise.
So if Mom didn’t push me, what did she do? Well, I was given a second- hand electric typewriter for Christmas when I was 11 years old because I said I wanted to be a writer.
Besides that, three things come to mind. One, she loved me unconditionally. Two, she taught me that working hard and trying were important. Three, she gave me time to get thoroughly bored and discover self- reliance — which is a key to success.
The fact she wasn’t hovering meant I could develop my own passions at my own pace. The fact she didn’t stand over me while I was doing my homework meant I quickly learned for myself it was sink or swim.
She sometimes forgot I was there when she was talking to her friends and female relatives about life, love and the universe, so I was allowed to quietly observe adult life, watch and learn.
This stood me in good stead as a writer, but also simply as a person. I learned about the joys and heartaches of being an adult; I knew about grief and love, success and failure. Although I still couldn’t play a musical instrument, speak a foreign language, or play tennis.
I also noticed most of the sparky, funny women Mom talked to hadn’t fulfilled their potential — nor had Mom, who didn’t go to university until I more or less forced her to.
There were fewer opportunities for women at the time and expectations were different. But my generation, I realized, had opportunities; we just had to reach for them.
I got good grades and went to university. I pursued my ambition to become a novelist and that’s worked out for me.
With Christmas holidays approaching, I wonder how many children will have a school holiday experience similar to mine: Gorging on chocolate to the point of illness, followed by soul- crushing bouts of boredom. Very few, I’d guess.
Today, children return to school leaner and keener after attending organized, self- improving courses and camps. We’ve eradicated boredom from our children’s lives since we fill every waking moment with something improving.
I believe in the merits of boredom. I think we need down- times so we can process and create.
I’m the mother of a 15- year- old and am constantly agonizing over whether I should be doing more to push him or whether to let him find his own feet. Am I letting him down by not insisting he does more, or am I avoiding unnecessary stress as well as nurturing independence and self- reliance? I don’t know. None of us knows the future.
I am so grateful my parents had the confidence to leave us to it. I hope I can be as brave in these crucial next few years.
The fact she didn’t stand over me while I was doing my homework meant I quickly learned for myself it was sink or swim.