Even though I am a third child, my behavioral characteristics have always been decidedly first-born: I am a conscientious, structured, cautious achiever. As a child, I was occasionally rebellious, particularly as a teenager, and I would battle my sisters for space in the backseat of the car on road trips. Otherwise, though, I was an obedient rule follower and relatively easy to raise, or so said my mom. (But, who really knows?) In school, I completed my homework thoroughly and timely, and I never questioned assignments.
Imagine my disbelief, therefore, when I discovered that our own child challenged rules, relished risks, daringly climbed to the top of the refrigerator as a toddler, declared a desire to learn how to do backflips at the age of five, questioned learning within the realm of categorical subjects in elementary school (e.g., history, English, math, science, et al.), and thereafter questioned school altogether – and yes, who skied off-piste, both literally and figuratively, when I turned my back. I certainly was aware that such children existed, but I could not fathom how my husband and I had produced such a child with our gene pool. Had he been switched at birth? One glance at him, though, confirmed that he was, indeed, ours. While our son took risks that I never dared to take, I can thankfully now reflect that he almost always did so safely, ensuring the reasonableness of those risks first – or, at least he completed such “preflight” checklists by the time he entered high school [Gulp].
In time, I learned to appreciate his hard questioning and irreverence, and I found his curiosities about our educational system both thought-provoking and astute. I have always been beyond proud of my other son, who, like me, mostly “colored within the lines” and racked up very significant achievements, but I now have to admit, after some seasoning and experience, that my risk-taking child’s behavior is instructive, particularly in today’s world.
Today’s parents generally demand that their children do the expected: earn good grades, take the prescribed coursework, earn membership in the National Honor Society, participate in at least one season of in-school sports, volunteer, and complete a summer internship or get a job. Many parents do everything they can to ensure that their children follow this exact path. It’s no wonder then that, in some ways, our children resemble a new suburban neighborhood comprised of cookie-cutter houses. Doing what is expected can certainly lead to educational success, but doing the unexpected, at the right times and in accordance with sound judgment, can lead to fundamental change and distinction and, metaphorically, to a neighborhood suddenly filled with architectural interest.
There are safe ways for our children to go off-piste and to make choices driven by their hearts rather than societal or parental expectations. They can substitute one course of interest for that final AP class, they can choose to exhaustively pursue an unanticipated hobby because it calls to them, or they can use their own voices within school to evoke curricular change. They can passionately pursue political movements or dive deeply into an artistic endeavor. Going off-piste can be heady because of the break in rhythm, the freedom, and the opportunity to explore the rugged terrain it affords.
As our high school children look ahead to another academic year, let’s listen carefully to their observations and concerns, hear their requests to break free of molds and to pave their own paths, and encourage safe exploration. In the process, our children will regain control, develop independence, and extinguish anxieties. The world will never change for the better if we stand fearfully in place, doing the expected. Instead, unexpected paths and unanticipated choices might just lead to significant and welcome change.