For years now, as parents, we have received messages about guiding our children toward a passion when so many of our children seem truly passionless. The occasional perceptive student is highly driven to a cause or zealously pursues an off-kilter interest, but let’s face it, most of our children are less driven. They often cannot answer the question, “Which club would you like to join this year?” without consulting a friend or a parent. Finding a “passion” for them, therefore, seems like an impossibility.
I believe our pursuit of a singular all-in passion for our high school students was borne in the highly selective admissions practices of Ivy League institutions. Admissions committees for these schools have made it well known that they want to assemble a well-rounded class, which consequently is not comprised of well-rounded students. Instead, a well-rounded class means that, typically, an Ivy-League school will admit the very best tuba player, actor, chemist, and author who applies alongside stellar academic credentials in an effort to assemble a class of diverse, immensely talented, and (many) strangely quirky students. Parents, often hesitant to concede that their children may not be among this select and incredibly small group, are usually not deterred from trying to secure these slots and frequently plot a path to foster admissibility.
If, as parents, we are sitting at the dinner table with our children trying to brainstorm what activity or topic exists in which our young teen may have an interest and for which our teen may have great potential, such that he or she could conceivably “use” that interest to serve as an admission ticket to Harvard, well, that time and money will likely be wasted. I am not saying that an Ivy League admission is never earned in this way, but I am saying that it would truly be a very expensive lottery ticket.
These discussions about developing our children’s passions no longer apply just to Ivy League schools. The pursuit of a passion has now trickled down to other highly selective colleges, state universities among them, the likes of UVA, UNC, and UGA locally. Pursuing activities that will distinguish students from their classmates has often become the foundation for our children’s choices (which wrongly presumes that they are our children’s choices from the start when, in all likelihood, such decisions are often guided by a parent or counselor).
When I was young, my parents gave me the opportunity to pursue lots of activities without redirecting me. They enabled me to prove myself on the dance floor, to fumble the ball on the softball field, and to experience growth in sports that clearly were not natural fits for me. Because they were unaware of any college admissions stakes, they did not second guess my choices and allowed me the freedom to develop my own interests.
Part of the reason today’s children are so indecisive is because our society has made them question their decisions – which choice will distinguish me from my classmates? Parental advice on such matters is frequently steeped in judgment.
While I believe that students are best served to have multiple pursuits, whether they are joining a sports team, taking music lessons, or donating their time to service or whether they are obsessively mastering a personal pursuit, such as woodworking or ornithology, the choices our children make are less important than the self-discoveries made in the process, especially in today’s shifting educational landscape. While consistency in an activity is a bonus on a college application, making intentional choices to change activities midway through high school can lead to important lessons, too, and the accompanying learning lessons can make strong college essays. More importantly, though, these choices can help our children better understand themselves and prepare them for adulthood.
Well roundedness produces children who become insightful, sophisticated adults, adults who can move through crowds comfortably and who can adapt to different environments. The choice between pursuing a singular activity with complete dedication and enthusiasm versus trying a variety of activities to find oneself should be just that – a choice.
I was lucky enough to make that choice on my own as a high school student. I was the student who did not know until I had to declare what my college major would be. I had a string of activities listed under my high school senior picture, and I relish the memories of pushing myself to participate in a wide variety of sports, clubs, and jobs. I was emphatically denied by the Ivy League institution to which I applied, but I have no regrets about the way I spent my high school extracurricular time.