Although unfair, sometimes as we reflect on our own childhoods, we remember pivotal moments when our parents did not shine, and I have such a memory of my mom. I had a wonderful, caring, invested mom who attended to all of my needs and offered abundant support, but when I was in high school, she once asked me what I hoped to do when I grew up. It was a different time with a lot less pressure to settle on a career path at a young age, so I probably had never before discussed with her my dreams, but I remember telling her that I wanted to teach.
My mom had been a teacher herself, and she exuded patience with and interest in children her entire life. She ultimately was a doting grandmother and would readily get down on the floor to play with my own young children. I learned so much from her about working with kids.
At the time when she posed this pivotal question, I thought that she would be thrilled with my response, especially since she had inspired me. I was a pleaser and certainly wanted her approval; however, my passion for teaching was real. I shared her love of children: I was an in-demand babysitter and swimming instructor and soon-to-be camp counselor. But my response was not met with enthusiasm. To the contrary, she scoffed and shrieked (literally), “Why would you want to do that when you could do anything?”
My mom came from an era when women typically only held one of three jobs: teacher, nurse, or secretary. While she likely did not intentionally mean to scold me for my choice, she sent a clear message that I needed to rethink my options. She longed for me to be independent – not to rely on a man for support. She wanted my world to be much bigger than her own.
While her intentions were not malicious, the impact of her words literally changed the direction of my life. I would not go back now and trade my initial career as a trial attorney for anything; it contributed to who I am today and to the teacher I have ultimately become. I have, though, reflected on how significant her reaction was on my life, and I want to share that moment because I hear about similar moments or epiphanies from my students as they seek to reconcile their parents’ or society’s approval or lack thereof.
Today, even more so than when I was young, parents must be aware of the messaging and the expectations that we place on our children’s shoulders. I believe in setting high expectations for our children and asking them to rise to the bar, but we, as parents, sometimes go too far and set unreasonable expectations for our children.
How are we to know what is reasonable and what is not? Every child is different. While I cannot be sure, I believe that we must get to know our children and be more aware of the subtle messages that we send them.
When both the mother and the father of the family are highly educated and hold dominant jobs or roles, children often feel inherent pressure to meet their levels of success. These children must be reminded to always strive to do their best – a reliable message – but without adding any unspoken demands that earning a B, matriculating to a university other than an Ivy League college, or failing to extend the storied family history at Chapel Hill is unacceptable. These students usually should be given some latitude to fail, in spite of their best efforts, and to explore options without criticism.
I see on a weekly basis the impact of society on our children, steering them to pursue certain careers: engineering and business among the primary targets. I will go on the record and say that most of my students are not cut out for engineering, but a large percentage of them, a disproportionate percentage of them, are somehow interested in the field. Another chunk of them want to pursue business but may have no idea why. I am not attempting to make a sweeping statement about all of our high schoolers’ dreams. I am, though, aware that we, as parents and/or as a society, often guide our children toward careers when we do not have a crystal ball. That hypothetical job we are targeting may not even be in existence, replaced by artificial intelligence, by the time our children graduate.
Our children feel immense pressure today to perform – for parents, for society, and for social media – and they often feel lonely or dejected when they fail to measure up, whatever that means. By focusing instead on the day-to-day, on the process of education rather than the results, we might be able to steady them, and by trying to become increasingly aware of the messages we send, we might help develop their confidence and independence.
I can only imagine what my own children recall about my messaging to them in high school. Please do not ask them.