The Transformative Power of Sports: Nurturing Success Beyond the Field

I grew up participating in a wide variety of sports: softball, swimming, ice skating, backyard basketball, tennis, and cheerleading. I was competitive in many sports, but the master of none. I thrived in the pursuit of mastery, though. Sports helped me develop coordination, persistence, and fitness awareness. 

Americans have long prized sports, paying professional athletes arguably more than their due. In my lifetime, we have reveled in the competition between colleges, the lead-up to the Super Bowl, the intensity of March Madness, and the hunt for the World Series pennant. Why now do I feel as though sports have largely lost that coveted position among today’s high schoolers?

The reputation of sports has taken a beating.

When my children were young, the American dream in sports carried a punch. Through hard work and unwavering dedication, our youth believed that they could achieve that dream: make an Olympic team, earn a spot on a Division I college team, or even gain access to the world of professional sports. While the dream is not lost, it certainly has become more elusive as athletes cross country lines to join Olympic and college teams, as our population explodes, and as the cost of participation and coaching skyrockets. The chase of that dream has led to unsavory practices, too: Doping and cheating allegations, common today, have tainted competitive sports, and injuries or the fear of injuries have prompted reluctance.

When the American dream in sports for children started to fade, students sought another return on their parents’ investment in sports: They heavily highlighted their achievement in sports on college applications. Today, though, while sports are frequently listed within the Common App’s activity section, most students and parents know that discussing sports in a college essay is practically taboo.

Meanwhile, highly competitive public high school teams leave many students who pursue sports for fun without viable access to the school’s athletic fields, and student athletes often report increasing and unwanted pressure to become a sports star. For these reasons and more, in my student population, I see less enthusiasm about sports, and I find that trend concerning.

Athletic dedication and proficiency develop traits that bring great value to the classroom. I attribute a lot of my personal academic successes to lessons that I learned through sports, and I have seen that progression repeat itself for more students than I can count (which is probably why admissions readers are tired of reading about it!). Committed athletes usually make wise decisions about their mental and physical health, avoiding the pitfalls of substance abuse, wary of how such ventures will affect them on the field. Committed athletes must learn to balance a hectic practice and game schedule with their academic pursuits, thereby developing stronger time management skills. Committed athletes often pursue competition beyond the arena, and therefore seek to excel in the classroom with a grit that can take them much further than expected, and committed athletes usually believe in themselves and pursue academics with confidence. Most importantly, committed athletes have staying power and will not drop out when challenges escalate.

So, while sports participation may not lead to professional or even college play, I believe that a serious dedication to sports will help students navigate high school and find success in college. Indeed, the students of mine who have struggled the most typically do not participate in an active (think cardio) sport. Coincidence? Maybe, but I think not.

As your high schooler makes plans for the fall, encourage a sport. While I never anticipated needing to advocate on behalf of sports, I find our world occupying a moment of widespread apathy, with unproductive remote workers and service industries that fail to reply to inquiries. We need to reenergize our youth with healthy competition and, most certainly, with fun, and I believe the best opportunity we have is on the proverbial field.

Unplugged: Rediscovering the Power of Camp and Disconnecting from Social Media

The month of June always reminds me of camp. I spent summers teaching campers to swim at Camp Seafarer, a sailing camp for girls on the coast of North Carolina, and my two sons went as campers and counselors to Seafarer’s brother camp, Camp Sea Gull, where they developed greater independence, teambuilding skills, and confidence. I’m a big fan of residential camps where children can disconnect from their devices and, frankly, from their parents to explore the outdoors and themselves in a safe haven. When done right, camp can boost the potential of our children and prepare them to leave the nest one day.

My husband has long volunteered as a camp doctor at Camp Seafarer, so we have continued to return each summer. The camp director traditionally shares a Thought for the Day each morning at breakfast. Many of these Thoughts for the Day linger in my subconscious, and favorites, usually written by the camps’ founders Wyatt and Lil Taylor, are repeated from year to year when we return.

One beloved Thought for the Day is often on my mind as summer begins: “Our days are like identical suitcases, but some can pack more into them than others.” I have traveled with girlfriends who are amazing packers. They can somehow fit thirty outfits into their carry-on bags with ease, knowing how to mix and match items so they look fresh each day. This quote, though, speaks more to time management skills than to organizational skills.

At camp, because children are disconnected from social media and search engines, they can freely explore nature, pursue activities, and connect with others without distraction. They learn, by choice, to dedicate most of their time to a single activity, developing expertise there, or to pursue broad exposure to a wide variety of activities. A few campers, though, squander their time and accumulate fewer skills, whether they are burnt out from the school year or are generally unhappy or depressed. They may also have poor time management skills. Of course, the camp counselors work with them to improve their experience and to help them make better choices. The campers’ time management snafus at camp, however, are not due to technology.

Largely, though, during the school year, many teenagers pack very light suitcases and have significant time management problems that are due to technology.

Last month, the Surgeon General issued a warning about the effects of social media on children, referencing concerns about its violent and sexual content and the frequent presence of bullying and harassment. While not every child “lives” his or her life on social media, I am stunned at how many of our young adults post daily and by how much and what they post. According to a survey published by Common Sense Media, teenagers spend eight hours and 39 minutes on average on their phones every day. Moreover, that same survey revealed that thirteen-year-olds check their social media accounts a minimum of 100 times a day. I believe that the Surgeon General’s warning is not overhyped. Our children are facing a time management crisis. Their phones are filling the bulk of their proverbial suitcases and robbing them of healthier pursuits.

As much as I enjoy reading about where my students are traveling and about their critical life moments on social media, I hate seeing over-sexualized selfies, and I cringe at their, perhaps inadvertent, displays of wealth and elitism. While your children are at home this summer, I suggest that you would be wise to observe their phone interactions, to check their daily screen times, and to monitor their social media posts.

Brace yourself. . . I truly think that we should just delete these social media accounts from our children’s phones. I know what I am saying, and I know the pushback – the earthquake – that will result in households:“You are going to decimate my social life!” But I believe that the feared fallout is untrue. If you are paying for your child’s phone AND your child is not using social media in a healthy way, delete it. The costs of social media far outweigh any benefits, in my opinion as an academic coach. Many children are disconnected from schoolwork, from chores, from families, and from interests because they are consumed by living an elusive life, when the key to finding that idyllic peace is to pack more “living” into our daily suitcases. I dare say that our children’s social connections without social media may be fewer but much more meaningful as a result.

Setting Summer Priorities

In first grade, I was put into the “blue” reading group. My teacher cleverly labeled the groups by color, but I was not fooled: I knew that I was in the intermediate, not the advanced, group. A third child and a bit of a straggler, I had not had intensive reading exposure at home, and interestingly, I can recall the exact moment when I, at the age of four, made the “aha” connection between the pattern of the letters and the words that they formed. In other words, I was not a precocious reader. I was, though, unaware that I was in any way “behind” in my reading skills . . . that is, until I landed in the middle reading group. Competitive, I remember speeding my pace, though sadly not my comprehension, in an effort to impress my first grade teacher, which landed me not in the advanced group but in a manufactured independent study with a classmate. . . creative teaching! For years thereafter, I viewed myself as a subpar reader, and I worked hard to make up for my lack of significant exposure and competence.

Despite this dispirited beginning, just a few years later, my favorite day of the school week was decidedly “library day,” when the librarian would read us a story, and then we would be unleashed to select a book or two to check out for the week. My adventures in reading fiction in grade school helped to define who I am today, as they nurtured my emotional and academic intelligence. I remember sobbing when reading Where the Red Fern Grows by Wilson Rawls, laughing out loud at Ramona in Beverly Cleary novels, grasping the power of language when reading The Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster, and seeing art and adventure through a new lens after reading From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler by E.L. Konigsburg. Since those formative years, reading has been a nearly constant companion of mine and one of my favorite pastimes.

Enriching our lives through literature has never been more important, in my opinion, than it is today. Slowing down, stepping away from technology, with a book and a good story can help students develop reading fluency and comprehension. More than that, though, reading is a salve. It can distract teenagers in a meaningful way from loneliness, isolation, or anxiety, and it can help them manage their feelings and emotions.

No matter what else is on your children’s agenda this summer, in my opinion, reading should be prioritized. Reading provides students with a better sense of self and a better awareness of the world, and reading will improve academic performance and test scores. First and foremost, though, reading should be fun. I often say that I don’t care what your children are reading, as long as they read, and I mean that. To sustain a healthy lifelong reading habit, however, I try to guide students toward book selections that are surefire winners, either universally beloved five-star reads or books that target your children’s strongest interests.

Here are a few books that I have read in the past few years that are delightful in every way, at least in my humble opinion, and I read a lot! (You may want to check for trigger warnings if you are concerned about the presence of any particular topic for a sensitive reader; however, any book worth reading usually has plenty of triggers, so I personally would discourage over-monitoring your high school student’s reading habits unless your child’s health or safety demands it). If your child is not ready to tackle a book of these lengths, then get an audiobook for him or her and listen to the book as a family for discussion. Whatever you do, though, promote reading.

·      Dark Matter by Blake Crouch (A total mindbender! Deep science reimagined in a page-turning adventure).

·      Maybe You Should Talk to Someone by Lori Gottlieb (A therapist shares real accounts of her patients and aspects of her own therapy to impart laugh-out-loud wit and wisdom and to give her readers insight to help find balance in this crazy world).

·      Lessons in Chemistry by Bonnie Garmus (For STEM readers who love dogs and appreciate feminism. The main characters in this novel are tightly drawn, sharp, and beloved).

·      The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue by V.E. Schwab (Immensely quotable and thought-provoking. A time travel novel that is part romance, part science fiction, but 100% brilliant).

·      Eleanor Oliphant Is Completely Fine by Gail Honeyman (Navigating the world with underdeveloped social skills can lead to unexpected life lessons).

·      Kindred by Octavia E. Butler (Now a classic, this time-travel novel delivers timeless themes).

·      Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow by Gabrielle Zevin (Video games as art, infused with surprising creativity, and a love story of two endearing characters made this reader, who is not a videogame enthusiast, a huge fan).

·      The Last Thing He Told Me by Laura Dave (A propulsive thriller where twists abound).

·      Remarkably Bright Creatures by Shelby Van Pelt (How can an octopus be one of my favorite characters ever? A surprising mystery, this tale of friendship between a late shift aquarium worker and an octopus will capture your heart).

Fall in Love with the ACT!

Warning: This blog is highly technical and directed to parents who are trying to understand and navigate testing next year. Next month’s blog will address a more universal theme.

You likely already know: The SAT is undergoing significant changes for U.S. students in 2024, changes that will be previewed to rising juniors on the PSAT this fall. These changes will take full effect for that class in the following calendar year, the first sitting of which is planned for March 2024.

The CollegeBoard needed to make some changes. It has been haunted by security violations and by a shrinking market share, as the ACT has gained popularity and as colleges have announced test optional or even test blind status. The Varsity Blues scandal that preceded the pandemic raised suspicions regarding the inequities of testing, too, no doubt damaging the CollegeBoard’s reputation some. The CollegeBoard, therefore, unveiled earlier this year that its test will undergo major changes and go digital. Taken in testing centers and/or schools with a proctor, the new digital SAT will be shorter and adaptive, which means the test will be individualized to the student, based on the answers given. The math sections will be 100% calculator active. The reading sections, while still challenging, will be more concise, and access to the scoring of the entire test will be expedited.

While I appreciate the changes that the CollegeBoard is invoking, I believe that rising juniors should this year, in almost all instances, choose to focus on the ACT instead.

Testing is still a vital part of a student’s college applications, as strong test scores serve to verify an impressive transcript and enable admission committees to compare the academic mastery of students. Students with high scores, above the 50% range for their chosen college, elevate their applications by submitting their scores; accordingly, students without high scores to bolster their applications can be disadvantaged: While they may still get in, a similarly-situated student with high scores on file will often edge out the student who applies either without scores or with low scores. Fair or unfair, scores matter.

And, fair or unfair, test prep works. I have seen it within my own student population, where my students have raised their scores, some dramatically, by learning test strategies and by bolstering their understanding of frequently-tested concepts. One of the reasons test prep works so well is because a good test prep instructor knows what students should anticipate. In essence, I know what concepts are on the test and how those concepts are typically tested, which makes test preparation significantly easier, and my understanding comes from years of working with the tests.

With the new digital SAT, test prep professionals, including me, will struggle to prepare their students as well as they could prepare them for the ACT, because SAT digital test resources are relatively scarce and the reliability of the format is yet unknown. The SAT has released a few adaptive tests through its Bluebook app and a few online nonadaptive written tests, but the available resources are all new and slim compared to those available for the ACT, and I do not expect the CollegeBoard to release more tests for rising juniors. Furthermore, the CollegeBoard does not intend to offer the question and answer booklet option which has been available in the past, intentionally limiting access to prep resources. Therefore, preparing for the ACT will be easier in the coming year than preparing for the SAT.

Another factor that will limit your child’s ability to fully prepare for the digital SAT is its new adaptive format, which adjusts the questions asked based on the student’s performance. In other words, each child should see an individualized test, adapted to fit the student, based on the answers he or she supplies. For example, if your child performs relatively poorly on the first stage (of two stages) of the reading and writing test, the second stage will be adapted accordingly and presumably thereby cap your child’s score. The questions will literally change from student to student based on his or her answers in the first stage. A heavy penalty will likely result for reading and careless errors on relatively easy questions.

Additionally, I anticipate that the SAT will have some technical glitches next year. I certainly do not wish that upon the CollegeBoard or upon the students who take the SAT; however, I do think technical glitches are a strong possibility. Initial reviews of the Bluebook app, which the CollegeBoard is using for student practice, are poor, and I have long found the CollegeBoard website cumbersome and counterintuitive. When AP testing (owned by the CollegeBoard) was initially administered online, it was slammed with technical problems. All of these technical issues may serve as an omen for possible dangers ahead. 

Finally, preparing for both tests can rob an already busy junior of a lot of time and energy, in my opinion. While we typically want to ensure that a child prepares for the right test, his or her better test, in this calendar year, it may not make sense to do so.

Again, I recommend that your child prepare for and take the ACT, not the SAT, next year. The only caveat I have, where students may benefit from choosing the SAT over the ACT or alongside the ACT, is for students who are clearly slow test takers and who do not qualify for extra time.

Bear in mind that all rising juniors will still take the PSAT and in its new format, so these students will gain some exposure to the new testing format, even if they do not prepare for the PSAT. Because the CollegeBoard is a business, first and foremost, I believe it will do everything possible to attract students to the test through the PSAT and through marketing. The CollegeBoard will want these students to register for future tests, so do not be surprised if your children say to you that they prefer the new digital SAT after taking the PSAT. Its shorter length will definitely be a draw.

I certainly would not discourage the ambitious student who is curious and patient and who is willing to work longer and harder for a possible payoff from focusing on the SAT as well as the ACT, but for most students who are overwhelmed by an already packed junior year, the ACT is probably the safer choice.

Chasing Dreams

Not too many people know that I was a dancer when I was young. My mom put me in a pink leotard with pink tights at the age of three and enrolled me in a dance studio. Although I showed no real signs of promise (indeed, I still struggle with my own posture today), through the years that followed, I developed a very good sense of rhythm and became a quick study of steps.

I continued dancing throughout my childhood and became a Cavalier Kicker (my college dance team’s name at the time) and even the lead instructor for cotillion, both in my hometown and for the local cotillion near my university. I taught ballroom dancing to fellow students as a “Short Course” in college, too. Generally, though, I was not a standout dancer, but when a child engages in an activity for that long and with such commitment, some level of success is likely guaranteed. Plus, I was a pretty good teacher, even then; however, in ballet class, I struggled. I distinctly remember my ballet instructor popping me on the stomach and the rear with her yardstick, and not in a friendly way, to adjust my stance. I felt like I was accomplishing an acrobatic feat just to stand momentarily in that erect, controlled position.

I was generally snubbed in dance class by the prima ballerinas because of, I presume, my gangly awkwardness. I did not “measure up” in ballet class. Importantly, though, I measured up at home because my mom did not subscribe to competitive parenting. While she would have loved to see me aspire to dance in a ballet company or as a Rockette or Broadway dancer, my average dancing ability was good enough for her.

Even though my mom did not have much to brag about with regard to my dancing, she likely would not have bragged anyway. She was definitively an anti-bragger. Indeed, she used to complain to me about other parents who constantly boasted about their children’s achievements. In contrast, she only shared information about her children when asked. She was aware that some of these parents exaggerated their children’s accomplishments, and she refused to play a part in competitive parenting. Nonetheless, my mother was very interested in other people’s children. She was a magnet for children in many ways, and she always asked about her friends’ children in conversation, welcoming information about their achievements when prompted by her questions.

As I raised my own children, I tried to adopt her example in an increasingly competitive world. Although I know that I slipped into competitive territory at times, I remembered what my mom had taught me and was able to observe from a different perspective competitive parenting. I witnessed how parental competitiveness is not just distasteful but also detrimental. It pits our children against one another, when, in reality, our children are each unique, and there is plenty of room to celebrate them individually.

I am not anti-competition. How could I possibly put forth such a statement in North Carolina on the eve of the NCAA Basketball Tournament? Competition often brings out the very best in our children. As they vie for class rank, class officer, and team captain, they learn better study, leadership, and collaborative skills. A self-selected competitor realizes very tangible gains, win or lose; however, when parents become overly invested in their children’s pursuits, directing them and judging them on each move, their children feel as though they must perform, must meet unmeetable expectations, must measure up.

Parental competition, both inside and outside of the classroom, and the presence of unmeetable expectations are reasons why our children are anxious today. In many ways, we, as parents, are often guiding our children toward our own dreams for them, based on our outdated views of how the world once was. Even if they achieved our dreams or replicated our own achievements, they might find themselves holding a trophy at the end of the day, yet unfulfilled and lost, wondering why and for what reason. In short, I fear that we often see our children’s accomplishments as our own accomplishments, and in our competitiveness, we want our children to succeed, not just for them but also for us.

Let’s be sure not to chase dreams for our children but instead to encourage our children to choose and to chase their own dreams. And let’s engage in rooting for all of our children, celebrating their unique strengths and recognizing that when we do so, all of our children win.

Don't Bruise the Fruit.

            My mom used to take me to the farmers’ market after my piano lessons. We would carefully handpick vegetables, often butterbeans and Hanover[1] tomatoes, from the bins. She would never grab handfuls. Instead, she carefully examined each individual vegetable before placing it in her paper bag – checking for firmness and signs of damage and educating me on the process. We would go home, shell the butterbeans by hand together, and simmer them on the stove in a salty brine until they softened and soaked up their own juices, delivering a punch. The flavor of the tomatoes was also intense, so much so that they were stand-alone favorites, adorned only with a little seasoning.

            One growing season during my teenaged years, I worked in a vegetable garden, planting seeds, watering, weeding, providing support structures, as necessary (e.g., for the tomatoes), and then harvesting. The process was immensely rewarding and required less effort than I had anticipated.  Indeed, I had to be careful not to overhandle the produce for fear of bruising it. I was surprised at how prolific the garden was. Good seed, good soil, and watering was really all that was necessary, with a little weeding here and there. I learned to focus on leaf growth and not on the production of fruit itself.

            Through the years, though, the flavors of these vegetables have faded. I cannot pretend to understand fully how seed hybridization, over-cultivated soil, and mass production have worked to diminish the flavors, but I know that I am not imagining the differences.

            Growing vegetables is, of course, similar to raising kids. Overhandling our offspring and over-focusing on production spoil the fruit. Waiting to see new growth in a garden can be painful when checked every hour, yet oh so rewarding when we walk out one day to a surprise. Similarly, it’s what happens when we are not watching that can be the most rewarding to parents.

            This past weekend, a friend shared a story about my son that I had never before heard. He had attended a full circuit of bar and bat mitzvah parties at the age of thirteen. The parent shared that she knew that we had raised him well because she had observed that he always asked the bat mitzvah girl to dance at her own party. As is my typical response, I admit, I wondered if my son just had “game” or simply enjoyed dancing, which he did, but then I paused with gratitude for the young adult he was then becoming. I do not recall telling him to ask these girls to dance; he had simply surmised that he should.

            I think, as parents, we should focus more on the environment, the soil in which our children are growing. We should ensure that our homes are rich with patience and love and with experiences to learn about daily communal life. We should focus not on our children’s output but on instilling and modeling good values. Becoming distracted by pests, weeds, and competition can lead to our overinvolvement and to our bruising the fruit.

            Intentional restraint may seem impossible at times, but often these choices are the easier and preferred routes. While our children require support structures to ensure that they grow at the right angle, leaning into the sun, and while we must occasionally eradicate an invasive weed that might suffocate their growth, children grown with appropriately measured involvement can yield surprising results. We just have to be patient to reap those rewards.

[1] An especially flavorful tomato grown in Hanover County, Virginia, just north of Richmond, my hometown. I have never tasted a better tomato anywhere.

Mismessaging

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.

Knowing Thyself

I love personality tests. I’m actually obsessed with them, much to my family’s dismay. Knowing and understanding our own personality types and the personality types of our children can provide amazing insights to why and how we differ and to what motivates us.

Today’s high schoolers often lack motivation. As a result, they may underperform or fail to perform in school. Identifying how to reach such students and finding that source of motivation is a daily puzzle in my work, and the parents of apathetic students often consult me because they are struggling to inspire them. Personality tests can, therefore, be a good parental resource.

I myself have taken a wide number of personality tests: Myers-Briggs, Birkman, CliftonStrengths, and Enneagram, to name a few. I recognize that any tool can be used wisely or foolishly, perhaps even prejudicially if over-used or if used for the wrong purposes, but for parents, I believe the value that can be gained through such an assessment can be revelatory.

Our children may lack motivation for a variety of reasons. Perhaps schoolwork is more challenging for them than we know, or perhaps they are depressed or anxious. Maybe we are suffocating them with our rules and expectations, or maybe our children need more structure than we are offering.

Through a trusted personality test, we can help determine whether our children are motivated by feeling special, understood, capable, independent, valued, needed, safe, unrestrained, right, or at ease. Knowing their personality types can also help us identify their possible lack of motivation. A common misstep in parenting, in my experience, is to assume that our children see things the way we do or the way their older siblings do. These assumptions lead to frustrations.

We may think that rewards will motivate our children only to discover through trial and error that our children are not competitive. We may think our children will thrive if engaged in a study group only to realize that our children are introverts and prefer to work alone. We may think that if we tell our children how to best find success, they need only follow our lead, yet we may fail to understand their basic need to feel the freedom to independently discover their own path.

Through personality tests, we can gain a better understanding of ourselves first and how we interact with our children. Then, having our children complete a personality test, many of which are available free online or from a library book, can lead to a greater understanding of how to parent, teach, and guide our children. Importantly, it can also help them to understand and accept themselves.

Don’t Be a Turkey: It’s Time for a Reality Check!

A few weeks ago, The New York Times featured an article that exposed the educational losses borne by our children during the pandemic: “Math Scores Fell in Nearly Every State, and Reading Dipped on National Exam.” The cited statistics revealed that on the National Assessment of Educational Progress (the nation’s report card) well less than one-third of our nation’s eighth graders demonstrated reading and/or math proficiency in 2022, a dramatic decline from proficiency levels reported in 2019 when the last report card was issued. North Carolina’s eighth graders fared even worse with only about one quarter of them demonstrating proficiency in either category.

While the statistics referenced test scores in reading and math from only fourth graders and eighth graders, high schoolers have suffered similar fates. Based on my experience with high school students from schools across the county, I have privately shared my own personal opinions, as early as a year ago, that more than 95% of our local high school children would benefit greatly from repeating a grade after a year and a half of substantial pandemic disruptions. While the nation’s report card only addresses reading and math, I suspect that students have experienced similar losses in other coursework, and those losses will be felt most deeply in courses that are cumulative, that build on prior knowledge, especially foreign languages and math.

Here's what I am seeing:

·      Rampant grade inflation that is pushing students through grades without proper demonstration of writing and math skills and simultaneously misguiding parents into believing that their children have attained mastery;

·      Much larger gaps in math skills than previously observed as students prepare to take the SAT and/or ACT, with critical deficits in geometry skills;

·      A dearth of strong math teachers;

·      Minimal, if any, math homework;

·      Few reading assignments and scant, if any, outside (homework) reading assignments; and

·      Test corrections, offered for full or half credit.

These trends may have started before March 2020, but most of them have surged since then, compounding and extending our children’s losses.

If you have any question whether your children have experienced such losses, trust me, they likely have. The few exceptions are the true self-starters, who not only do what is expected of them but go well beyond and also teach themselves concepts “for fun.” If you even have to pause to ask yourself if your child is among the top five percent, I dare say that he or she is not.

If you think that your child is exempt from these losses because he or she attends private school, I would reply, “Not so.” While the losses may be less extreme for those students who experienced fewer days of interrupted instruction, they still had ample interruptions, and I am seeing significant gaps in instruction in that population, too. In particular, if you are surprised at how low your child’s math PSAT score is (or will be when reported), likely the pandemic and the above ripple effects of the pandemic are contributing culprits.

That’s my reality check for you, should you choose to believe it, and our children, of course, have lost social skills, too, which are much more difficult to measure.

Character, though, is built during times of challenge, so how can we as parents counteract these losses?

1.    Be open to a gap year experience. Graduating seniors could benefit from additional coursework, a job, or a deep exploration (not necessarily a costly one) before matriculating to college, so they can mature and ultimately optimize their college experience; 

2.    Demand more reading assignments;

3.    Demand math homework for skill practice and development;

4.    Have your children study and complete an online math course alongside their class curriculum (I’m not joking);

5.    Do not allow your child to double up on math courses during a single year (e.g., Math III first semester and pre-calculus second semester) because it further compromises instruction;

6.    Petition for yearlong, not semester long, English classes;

7.    Hire a reputable tutor; and

8.    Promote reading at home.

I am very sympathetic to those teachers who are working hard, receiving far too little compensation (which is part of the problem), and being pulled and pushed in divergent directions – asked to improve passing rates yet to simultaneously boost issued grades. Until we, as parents, though, refuse to act naively – to behave like turkeys – and to take responsibility by demanding that our children become more accountable and by refusing to accept meaningless A’s, our teachers will be hamstrung, unable to deliver the education that our children need.

This Thanksgiving, let’s embrace with gratitude the fact this semester of school has been relatively uninterrupted thus far. Now, however, let’s go build character, ask our children to willingly dive a little deeper, and evoke change to recoup some of these losses.

Taking a Deep Dive

When my husband and I sought admission to a pre-kindergarten program for our then three-year old son, I distinctly remember the parents, after dropping their children at the door, gathering in a circle elsewhere to discuss the program with the admissions director. We were promptly asked to supply three adjectives that best described our child. That question was akin to conveying my greatest weakness on a job application. Hmm, “I have a tendency to work too much?” or, perhaps, “I am a perfectionist?” As all of the other parents – who would ultimately become cohorts – shared their responses, I remember listening to the “smart,” “bright,” “athletic,” responses that fell from their lips. I was well aware that the exercise was likely conveying more about the parents than about their children, which only increased the pressure to supply a meaningful answer that would not later evoke a cringe. Who among us would reply authentically when admission lay in the balance? This was not New York, but pre-K programs held limited spots, and my husband and I had concluded that this fun-focused program would be a good fit for our child.

 Today, I can only remember two of the adjectives we chose, and as I reflect on those two adjectives, I thankfully do not cringe: lovable and curious. While lovable is what we all hope we can say about our children and certainly, as parents, seemed evident to us about our son, the second adjective was applicable to our son but probably also contained some hope on our part that our child would lean into that adjective in time. To this day, I believe that curiosity is a quality that most students and adults should target and, sadly, a quality that many of us lack.

 Parents push their children to focus on their transcripts: “Bring home the grades to keep doors open!” I too subscribe to this tactic, but do we push curiosity enough? Curiosity, when developed as a habit, elevates classwork and improves grades.

 One of the primary concerns parents express to me as an academic coach is that their child does not know how to study. While gaining access to resource materials that can aid studying is something I regularly supply, part of strong preparation involves curiosity. A student who approaches a class with curiosity, who asks a question beyond the text, who wonders about a closely tangential topic, and who draws connections across subject matters will usually be more prepared to answer essay and short answer questions. On the other hand, a student who drills the teacher on exactly what will be on the test and is miffed when its content is in any way surprising, may lack sufficient curiosity. Churning out homework robotically and hyper-focusing on grades contributes to our children’s disconnect, their listlessness, and their anxiety.

 We often plead busyness when asked why we do not delve more deeply into subjects or interests. We just have too much on our collective plates. Technology has compounded that perception. As parents, though, we need to guide our teenagers to slow down in the moment, to absorb, and to indulge. Asking genuine and thoughtful questions may be what is necessary to engage that anxious student, to ease his or her anxieties, and to make test preparation easier. Curiosity outside the classroom is equally important; lifelong learning, as teenagers and as adults, feeds the soul, improves our self-confidence, and drives inspiration. Let’s all try to slow down, develop, and explore our curiosities.

Building Optimism and Confidence

In my job, I strive to recognize patterns. A student’s lack of eye contact, disorganized notebook, or excessive timidity can signal to me potential academic issues on the horizon. I have tried to become attuned to the signs, and I am usually on track.

The same is true in my personal life. I am the parent who is quick to point out what might go awry with our best-laid plans. From my perspective, I try to keep my tone in check and am not pessimistic – at least not usually [sigh]. I aim to use my eagle eye to navigate a path with as few pitfalls as possible, enabling the best opportunity for success.

My husband, on the other hand, is a perpetual optimist. His response to any approaching catastrophe, as my family can attest, is to forecast unequivocally that it will be fine. True to form, he is usually correct, but our parenting approach has, therefore, become, much to my chagrin, an unplanned strategy of “good cop/bad cop,” with me in the role of the killjoy.

My keen awareness of oncoming issues is of great value, but I have learned that when working with students (because my husband is not around), my anticipation works best when paired with optimism. Because I assume both roles, good cop and bad cop when coaching, I try to lead with optimism. Indeed, as we emerge from the pandemic, I am calling for more optimism in my life and in the lives of my students.

Optimism deeply affects our high school children. Their self-confidence and their dreams hinge on our belief in them. I work to build and to rebuild confidence in my students daily, yet often at home, as parents, we carelessly plant seeds of doubt in our children as we anticipate risks. We must resist the urge to warn our children that a single grade could decimate their chances in college admissions, that they won’t get into an undergraduate business program if they do not fill their resumés now with strong summer internships, or that they must take five AP classes during their junior year to improve their class rank. We all occasionally slip into killjoy territory with a hyperbolic response, but this fear messaging harms our children. We must tone down these overwrought threats in favor of positivity, particularly when navigating high school and the college application process.

I preach positive self-talk to my students. I do not tolerate the words, “I can’t,” “I hate,” or “I’m bad at.“ As parents, we must promote a positive self-image, too. Let’s not lie to our children, as we all have relative weaknesses, but let’s teach our children to lead with their strengths and to shore up their weaknesses.

Choosing optimism in an often-dark world can be a difficult choice, but when our own worries seep into our parental rhetoric, we run the risk of damaging our children’s hope and self-image. Our children are our biggest and most valuable investment. Let’s infuse them with a can-do and confident spirit.

Playing the Long Game

I, along with most of you, live in a world of instant gratification. When I woke up this morning, the incoming light seemed darker than usual. I asked Alexa, while still lying in bed, for the weather report and learned that, yes, rain was in the forecast today. I gained up-to-date information about temperature predictions, so I could select appropriate attire. I then listened to the news as I prepared my instantly-brewed coffee, but I missed a name, location, or detail. I quickly pulled up the relevant news article online to quell my curiosities. As I put on my shoes to walk my dog, I realized that I was past due for new sneakers. My feet will not suffer much longer; my fresh footwear will be here in just a few days.

I can still remember, though, working very hard for simple purchases as a young teen. I earned just one dollar per hour while babysitting the neighborhood children, even the wayward ones. I’d save my pennies in an old-fashioned piggy bank and treat myself to a 45 record at Peaches Records & Tapes, and I usually purchased just one record at a time – always for its A-side, unfamiliar with its B-side. I savored my selections. I spent hours in my room listening to the same songs again and again. I feel certain that my musical enjoyment was heightened because I had worked so hard to earn those records.

Today’s children, though, are accustomed to instant gratification. Rarely do they have time to nurture curiosities and desires. Instead, their questions are answered with a quick Google search; no visits to the library or even the encyclopedia are required. They usually do not listen to the same songs repeatedly because available music choices are easily accessible and cannot be contained in a cardboard box. As a result, I fear that some enjoyment for our children is bounded. With these limited payoffs, their investment in curiosities and quests is curtailed.

This generation is, therefore, less and less willing to play the long game, to aim for perfection in their work when perfection requires exertion. I was reminded of this generational discrepancy when reading a Wall Street Journal article this week: “If Your Co-Workers Are ‘Quiet Quitting,’ Here’s What That Means.” In short, this article explains that Generation Z is saying “no” to the hustle culture, whether they do so because they are over-stressed, burnt out, unhappy, or detached. Applying these warning signs to our high school children, we must find a way to engage our children, particularly as we stand on the precipice of another school year.

To engage our children in the long game of schooling, they must feel ownership: They must have skin in the game. We must start talking to our high school children as if they are adults. Our children should have some say in their class choices, their extracurricular activities, and their sports. To participate in making these adult choices, they should understand the benefits and costs of every decision and recognize the opportunities these choices provide. They must also understand the risks of their choices. They must grasp why we are, at times, trying to redirect them. Usually, our guidance is about keeping options open, but as parents, we do not always know what path will serve our children best, so we must be good listeners, too.

The time is nigh to set long-term goals, to make meaningful choices, and to discuss what may be gained from our traditional high school curriculum. (1) Math may not be easy, but its mastery can yield confidence and problem-solving strategies; (2) history is not about simply looking up and reading the history but about understanding patterns and diversified perspectives; and (3) studying science is at the heart of all curiosities and can prompt exciting innovations. By learning (4) foreign languages, we humbly acknowledge that communicating and cooperating with others requires concessions and mutual respect. Finally, by embracing the written word of (5) English, through literature and through our own writing, we recognize how writing, no matter the language, connects us all and how its study is still relevant to every career path. By seeking to understand coursework on this deeper level, our children may truly grow and reengage.

Going Off-Piste

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.

Ensuring a Productive Summer

When I was young, I would spend my high school summers outside. I travelled everywhere by bicycle. Depending on the summer, I also swam on the local swim team, played tennis with friends, lifeguarded, taught swimming lessons, and/or babysat. In the evenings, I would enjoy a softball or basketball game with neighbors or catch fireflies at twilight. Otherwise, I would lie in the grass and whistle through a selected blade. I watched my dad carefully tend to his orchids in his greenhouse. I would sit by the lake in our backyard with an occasional line in the water. My only schedule was guided by swim practice, swim meets, or work obligations. I slept extraordinarily well and was very fit because I was constantly on the move.

By today’s standards, my teenaged summers do not seem “productive” enough. I was not a recruitable swimmer; swimming was just my summer sport. I didn’t have a constructive agenda: I was not intentionally accruing meaningful entries for my résumé. By the summer’s end, what did I have to show for my relatively unstructured exploration of sun, environment, and play?

More than you might think. I learned a lot about myself during those summers of play.  I am guided today by the healthy lifestyle I gained. I know that I love a beach read and enjoy an intermittent slower pace. I know how much I enjoy working with children. I nostalgically appreciate beach music and what we now call Yacht Rock because this music reminds me of the smell and feel of summer, and I collected lots of memories and stories through work and play that would have translated well to a college essay, if I had been required to write more than the approximately two college essays I wrote back in the day.

These past two years of COVID, political divisiveness, and school shootings have perhaps made me wistful for such summers. Nonetheless, I believe that our children would benefit from a similar experience if we can recapture it. Our job as parents is not to force our children to pursue academic camps, strongly suggest or require that they spearhead a community service project, or lock them in their rooms so they can develop their own apps. All of these pursuits are worthy if our children initiate and drive the efforts. Instead, summer needs most importantly to be an opportunity for our children to relax, observe, and engage with others. Moreover, a little boredom has its benefits. In times of boredom we become more creative and more resourceful, and we get to know ourselves better. True boredom should be embraced, in my opinion.

Here are my recommendations to recapture summer’s magic in today’s world:

·      Absolutely limit screen time and limit it significantly. After two years of Zooming and increased online work, our students bury their heads in their phones with a ferocity that scares me. TikTok, YouTube, social media, and gaming have all skyrocketed in popularity. Our children, collectively, are woefully socially inept as a result. If we fear that they have lost academic skills during the pandemic (and they have), I am even more concerned about their social skills.

·      Encourage exploration. Our children do not know themselves as they should. Ask most teenagers what they enjoy doing in their spare time, and they struggle to respond meaningfully. I believe that many, if not most, of them are confused and unaware of their own interests. Their time is often so structured, so suggested, that they do not consider what they enjoy. While I am not a college counselor, I believe that what may help them most is listening to their authentic selves and pursuing their own true interests, even if those interests do not hold the current perceived promise of making a lot of money or of wooing an admissions reader. Authenticity in a college application can, in my humble opinion, shine brightly.

·      Kick your children outside. Sunshine has healing properties. If our children spend lots of time outdoors daily, they will soak up some much-needed Vitamin D. Before we know it, they will be sleeping better and sporting improved moods.  

Although I hesitate to make any suggestions, I will relent. If boredom becomes a real problem, or if your children are making poor or dangerous choices, consider the following:

·      Push them into the arts. Enjoying an outdoor concert, watching and discussing a movie with friends, learning to play a musical instrument, pursuing drawing or pottery – all of these endeavors will awaken a, perhaps, dormant enthusiasm in your children, especially if they have moved away from all artistic pursuits. The summer is also the perfect time to learn a new skill, such as sewing, cooking, or flower arranging.

·      Lure them to journal. Our children’s writing skills have atrophied during the pandemic. Asking children to journal daily or most days about their thoughts and any unusual activities will help reinforce gratitude, preserve summer memories, and result in more fluid writing skills.

·      Take them to the library. Our children should be encouraged to pick up any title of interest, but if they ask for a title, be sure to recommend a read that earns almost five stars with lots of reviews on Amazon or Goodreads, or call me! Tried and true titles that match our children’s interests will serve them best, and I’m a big fan of an audible book, especially for reluctant readers.

·      Join them for a hike, walk, or run.

·      Volunteer with them.

In short, this summer is not the summer, in my opinion, to tax our children with an aggravating to-do list. A little boredom and a little less intervention may be the ironic antidote to our children’s increased anxiety. Their discoveries about themselves may actually benefit our children more than we anticipate.

Fall Enrollment 2022

My priority at Arbor Road Academy is the academic and emotional development of our high school children. I have found that success is best achieved when I partner with parents to hold children accountable and to help them optimize learning and growth. I hope I can help your family achieve these goals.

In fall 2022, I hope to help your children regain their footing and transition into the next academic year with confidence and skills. The ACT and SAT testing landscape will likely continue in full force, and I believe that securing solid test scores will better position your children for their college applications, even at test-optional institutions.

I am grateful for your interest in Arbor Road Academy. Please click on the link below to download the form. Please remit forms by email for expediency.

Fall 2022 Enrollment Form

The Safety Net

I fell on my face this week. Literally. I was walking my pandemic puppy on my persistently under-construction street, and my ankle rolled over the 1.5-inch lip that the workmen left behind as my street awaits its final top coat of asphalt. That lip has been there for six months, though. I should have known better. I should have been more careful.

 A few hours later, I found myself in a temporary state of situational depression. Stitched up, I lay listlessly under multiple bags of ice, and I hate feeling cold! I was embarrassed, angry, and despondent. How could I have barely survived the pandemic (truly, I feel that way at times) only to find myself in this battered condition soon after newfound freedoms have been unleashed in my world? On the upside, never have I been more grateful for the mask as an accessory. 

Falling and failure are tied closely to embarrassment and depression, so much so that we can all likely cite a quote about the values of failure, quotes that are waiting just to make us feel better, to feel positive about our missteps and mistakes.

 To learn from failures, though, we must first experience falling. Without the fall, the lessons are lost. Because parents, teachers, and schools have created an expansive safety net, our children rarely fail. Indeed, I feel like students must actually try to fail in today’s classrooms, usually by actively avoiding work. I have never before seen so many students with abysmal averages right up until the last week of each quarter who miraculously manage to pass at the semester’s end.

 I categorize failures as occurring over a spectrum with two poles: on one end, failure that comes despite our best efforts, and, on the other, failure that comes when even our community safety net cannot protect those of us who never try. In the middle lie unexpected failures – failures that occur due to carelessness. For example, I certainly was not trying to fall this week, but I was distracted, listening to my latest Audible book. Even though I know the dangers of falling – my mom spent the last decade of her life actively trying not to fall – I allowed myself a moment of inattention.

 When our children fail after trying hard to achieve something that they really desire, the lessons are worthy. When they fail to eke out a truly hard-fought A in AP Calculus BC, when they barely miss a PR in the 400-meter sprint after months of training, when they stumble while giving a school-wide speech, they discover the lapses in their preparation. They gain a certain doggedness. They vow to overcome.

 When, on the other hand, our children fail without effort, despite the safety net, children learn relatively little. Instead, the community around them learns. The children were not even trying; we did everything we could to “save” them, but our efforts were for naught. The lesson instead lies within us. What did we do wrong? Should we have let them fail sooner, perhaps, when failure had fewer repercussions?

 Most failures, though, occur somewhere in the middle, and there, we must intentionally seek out the inherent lessons. We should examine and reflect on exactly what we did wrong and how we can avoid feeling battered and bruised in the future. That’s what I am doing now, and I encourage parents to do the same with their children. Do not bury or avoid the pain that accompanies failures, even the minor failures. Embrace and leverage it for all that it is worth to become more surefooted, more confident, and more competent. 

 Deep down, we know, though, that living is not worth living if we don’t fly without a safety net at times. Despite the falls.

Redefining "Smart"

As a result of Top Chef, book blogs, and art reviews, I am expanding my use of adjectives. I have learned that when I describe my entrée as “amazing” or “delicious,” I am not developing any awareness of the types of foods and tastes I enjoy. Similarly, describing a book as “awesome” does not help me find my next great read. As parents, we need to expand our use of vocabulary when we describe our children, too. If we want to groom our children into productive, successful adults, we need to understand them better, including their strengths, their weaknesses, and their eccentricities.

Inevitably, almost every parent who seeks my services initiates the conversation by describing his or her child as “smart” or “bright,” although he or she usually uses a very in front of that adjective. This introduction tells me absolutely nothing about the child. These adjectives have become meaningless.

“Smart” can mean many things to parents. That one word can describe (1) a student who earns straight As by doing absolutely nothing in school, (2) a child who spends every waking hour optimizing her grades, or (3) a child who is a genius or a prodigy in a particular area. 

Let’s look at our children through a new lens:

• Do our children exhibit an unbelievable intuitive understanding of the physical world, so much so that we ourselves are astounded by their insights? Moreover, do they exhibit their aptitude for such concepts at a very young age?

• Do our children have heightened sensitivities that make them able to grasp and express the subtext of art easily and to connect deeply with others, to a mind-blowing degree?

• Do our children have an unending work ethic, such that they are willing to work tirelessly to master a skill and simultaneously to ensure the highest class average?

• Are our children prodigies, combining their innate gifts with an astonishing drive that will make them top-tier (and I do mean “top-tier”) athletes or artists?

Such children exist. I have worked with them; however, while every child has gifts, most children are not described by the statements above because these children are highly unusual. 

More commonly, our children

• Earn good grades, maybe even excellent grades, with minimal effort or interest but are described as a “poor test takers” (another descriptor that is usually misunderstood); 

• Earn very high test scores through little study but earn disappointing grades; or

• Are generalists, who appear to do everything well but who are not “truly outstanding.” They do not gain notoriety beyond their school in any particular area.

All of these children may benefit from better focus, study skills, or motivation, or they may need help identifying and honing their own unique interests. They are wonderful, lovable, special human beings with their own set of gifts. They are “you” and “me,” most likely: Worthy, ultimate contributors to society, but on many levels, relatively average in the classroom, at a party, and on the sports field. These children must learn to cultivate their talents and understand their motivations, and they may need discipline or guidance to ensure that they are high-functioning human beings in the classroom and in life. 

Because most children need our guidance to become the best version of themselves, we must seek to understand our children better. We must be willing to see their foibles, and we must be willing to increase our children’s awareness of their own quirks: their social awkwardness, lack of empathy, or poor self-restraint, for example. We are so busy showering our children with praise and projecting what we want to see that we fail to articulate precisely for our children and for ourselves where they need to grow.

Let’s challenge ourselves to seek out vocabulary that enhances our understanding of our children. Let’s engage them in conversations that facilitate a better grasp of our children’s true strengths and interests and that unearth the root of any problems, and let’s seek to minimize describing our children as bright and smart. They know such descriptors are meaningless. They are rolling their eyes at us. 

The Friend Zone

Parenting is tough. I have yet to find a foolproof parenting manual. Strong parenting requires precision: striking the right balance of love, attention, and discipline. Leaning too much in any one direction can cause negative repercussions.

When I was young, my parents disciplined with a heavy hand. Expectations were abundantly clear, and threats loomed regarding punishments that would be issued “when Dad gets home.” At the time, such authoritarian parenting was widely accepted as routine. My parents were older when they had me and subscribed to rigidity. “Children were to be seen but not heard.” My parents, no doubt, did the best that they could raising my older sisters and me, but we were three very different children, and each of us responded uniquely to their strict parenting style.

My friends’ parents, back in the day, mostly seemed either neglectful or permissive in comparison to my own.  Some parents indulged their children with excessive purchases and enforced few, if any, expectations. Other parents travelled frequently, leaving their children to host high school parties in their absence.

While these three parenting styles – authoritarian, permissive, and uninvolved parenting – persist today, we have become much more educated about parenting, in general, and understand that authoritative (not to be confused with authoritarian) parenting will likely yield the best results: Parenting with empathy but establishing consistent limits and expectations. 

Despite our enlightened times, from my observations, parents struggle with the “empathy” piece, often overstepping the bounds of parenting and entering “the friend zone,” becoming their child’s confidant, champion, and benefactor. Friends, by nature, go to battle for other friends. They clear obstacles, matchmake, and occasionally obsess. Many parents and their children become codependent, with parents controlling their children’s lives or living vicariously through their children. Our primary goal, as parents, if feasible, should always be to produce healthy, independent, young men and women who will contribute to society. 

To truly develop independence, though, our children must be allowed to fail, yet so many parents seem intent on protecting their children from failures. Over the past decade or so, I have witnessed parents of my students go to battle with teachers over grades, extra credit opportunities, deadlines, and school attendance policies. I have seen parents who fight school penalties for honor code violations. I have also seen parents who do their children’s homework and projects in high school and write their children’s essays. These parents often do not realize that, in doing so, they are harming their children and stripping their children of developing the skills they desperately need to find success. These overprotected children are much more susceptible to increased anxiety, decreased confidence, addiction, and promiscuity.

Because they act out of love, bulldozer or helicopter parents justify their actions, but in the process, they have created a world where grades are increasingly meaningless, participation trophies are touted on résumés, and college admissions can be bought or persuaded. Social media and the pandemic seem to have worsened parental overprotection. Today’s children have missed out on so much because of the pandemic that parents are quick to offer excuses for their children’s fatigue, inability to submit work on time, and poor behavior, and social media intensifies the pressure to seek perfection.

We need to return to a world that embraces each other in love but also holds each other accountable for actions. Our children need to know how to write their own essays and to accept punishment with humility, so they can grow. No parent is a perfect parent, but if we see ourselves in these examples of codependent, overprotective, bulldozing parenting, we must make amends, for our children’s sake. They are more capable than we know.

The Magic Bullet

Parents usually seek my academic coaching services because their bright, busy high schoolers, who carve out time for jobs, friends, clubs, and activities, are not optimizing their academic experience. These parents are frequently miffed and frustrated that their children earn disappointing grades and display one or more common student weakness.[1] As I review their children’s schedules and activities, I often find one integral component missing - the magic bullet - that could mitigate many of their problems: exercise. 

Parents often fail to push their children to exercise. Once parents determine that they do not have star athletes under development, they may allow, even encourage, their children to pursue other paths in lieu of that individual or team sport. Soon thereafter, their children are sleeping in, returning home after school to complete homework, and then resorting to streaming or gaming to fill out their days, with little to no exercise. They may be plenty “involved,” but they are not moving sufficiently. Moreover, for students who are involved in organized sports, many of them do so only for a single season or two. The rest of the year, these students become virtually inert, abandoning the benefits of conditioning until the next pre-season practice, and this abrupt discontinuation of exercise often upends their academic performance. Daily exercise, though, is critical to good health and clear thinking for all teenagers, even for non-athletes. 

The CDC reports that every teenager should get “60 minutes or more moderate-to-vigorous physical activity daily.” I recommend more than the prescribed 60-minutes of exercise, particularly when students display any of these common issues. 

We know the positive outcomes of exercise from personal experience: improved mental health and mood, better sleep, and better self-image. We may not recognize, though, that exercise also improves cognitive functioning, such as attention, organization, and memory. While a daily exercise regimen will not render instantaneous results, it will, almost always, yield positive outcomes relatively quickly. The most common pushback I hear when I suggest exercise to a student is a lack of time or interest, but students who regularly exercise seem to find more time in their days because they have more vigor and focus when attacking tasks, and their interest in exercise always seems to grow with practice and commitment.

Exercise should be a rewarding part of every student’s day. Encourage your children to engage in their choice of exercise. If their choice is a sport that will neither elevate their heart rate nor require excessive movement (e.g., walking, bowling, and golf), pair that choice with a personal workout plan. If children have an “off season,” do not celebrate the opportunity to indulge in a little laziness but instead transition to a new form of exercise. Finally, remember that exercise will make us more productive adults, too. Let’s get moving!

[1] My student population has collectively displayed the following relevant issues: a lack of motivation, anxiety, distraction, depression, isolation, low self-image, disrespectfulness, boredom, disorganization, negativity, lethargy, addiction (to using social media, streaming, gaming, eating, dieting, vaping, drugs, cutting, et al.), and poor sleeping habits.

The Biggest Hurdle Facing Today's High School Students

My husband and I recently watched Harry Potter 20th Anniversary: Return to Hogwarts. Seeing young children excitedly standing in line to purchase the books in the series, some of which are over 700 pages long, reminded me of how much J.K. Rowling did to re-energize the reading appetite in our youth. 

Fast forward twenty years . . . most of our high school students are now not reading anything for their personal enjoyment. They are not reading the news or books. Despite enrollment in AP Literature, AP Language, AP US History, AP Psychology, and AP Whatever, they are not reading their textbook chapters. Instead, they are navigating AP courses by using easy access to worksheet answers from an array of internet sources. They will spend an inordinate amount of time seeking a cheat sheet for assignments, if necessary, because (1) it is easier and (2) if they attempt to do the work independently, they may get a lower grade. They use Sparknotes and Schmoop in lieu of reading chapters for English class, too. They are largely unable to read an article and comprehend its contents. The American Psychological Association’s research reveals that over 80% of high school students today do not read for pleasure, but I believe the percentage of nonreaders is much higher than cited or even than we can imagine. In my opinion, we have a reading crisis, and that crisis is worsening.

In response to students’ failure to embrace reading assignments, teachers, frustrated by the number of students who fail to produce independent work, adjust expectations by minimizing reading assignments, which, in turn, serves to affirm the students’ avoidance. Meanwhile, parents either fail to appreciate the severity of their children’s reading problems, ignore them, or tire of the battle to force them to read. 

We see the signs, though, that our children are not reading. They fail reading quizzes. For example, despite a string of high assessment grades, our children score a 40% on a pop reading quiz or even on an assigned reading quiz and offer up excuses, including the common “everyone failed it” justification, which is largely true. Our children’s lowest scores in standardized testing are often in the reading sections. Our children never come to the dinner table to share something interesting that they have read, and we never see our children with a magazine or novel in their hands. 

Producing a generation of nonreaders has a huge ripple effect. Colleges are now pushing students through their curricula because so many students are poor readers, and if students cannot read, they cannot write. Moreover, our country’s current issues with widespread misinformation only worsen in the presence of nonreaders.

We know that the pandemic has exacerbated this already debilitating problem. Like never before, our children turn to gaming, social media, TikTok, and streaming for entertainment. They lose hours daily to these sources, and their brains, which should be actively searching, solving, imagining, and digesting information and storylines, instead idly respond in near-comatose fashion to screen time.

We as parents must redirect our children to embrace reading by putting a book in their hands or their ears. If they like video games, your children will likely enjoy reading fantasy, dystopian, or sci-fi novels such as the Legend series by Marie Lu, Ready Player One by Ernest Cline, the Throne of Glass series by Sarah J. Maas, Children of Blood and Bone by Tomi Adeyemi, or Ender’s Game by Orson Scott Card. If your children enjoy sports, they could escape with Boys in the Boat by Daniel James Brown, Beartown by Frederik Backman, Seabiscuit: An American Legend by Laura Hillenbrand, or Born to Run: A Hidden Tribe, Superathletes, and the Greatest Race the World Has Never Seen by Christopher McDougall. If your children enjoy streaming CSI or murder mysteries, I recommend The Secret History by Donna Tartt, The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time by Mark Haddon, or classics, such as Dan Brown’s Angels and Demons, John Grisham’s The Firm, or Agatha Christie’s And Then There Were None. If your children enjoy romance or drama, they might try Eleanor & Park by Rainbow Rowell, I’ll Give You the Sun by Jandy Nelson, Looking for Alaska by John Green, The Love Hypothesis by Ali Hazelwood, or The Princess Bride by William Goldman. If they enjoy the outdoors, consider Hatchet by Gary Paulsen, A Walk in the Woods by Bill Bryson, or My Side of the Mountain by Jean Craighead George. Finally, if your children enjoy history, seek out The Boy in the Striped Pajamas by John Boyne, Code Name Verity by Elizabeth Wein, or Between Shades of Gray by Ruda Sepetys. My personal favorite book of last year was Project Hail Mary by Andy Weir, which is simultaneously funny, heart-warming, and scientifically smart. The choices abound. While we have fewer young adult readers, we have abundant great literature and compelling nonfiction titles available. 

Choose a surefire hit, first and foremost, because we want to sell reading to our children, with a word of warning: research the title with your children to ensure their buy-in and consider beginning with an audiobook for family consumption. Audiobooks are a great gateway drug.

The reading crisis is much more fixable than climate change or political divisiveness. We can reinspire our children to read. Let’s get to it.