Parenting 101: How to Avoid Raising a Self-Involved Marshmallow

I just finished grading another round of Portfolios.  In addition to the usual Portfolios and obligatory “kittens and rainbows” projects (collegial code language for “everything-and-everyone-is-wonderful-no-depth-fluff”), there is always the antithesis. These teenaged curmudgeons take on a more acerbic tone about life.  While rarer than the former, the percentage of jaded, angst-ridden projects has been increasing throughout the years and was higher than normal this year. To be specific, there was a general misanthropic undertone in which a dislike of mankind was not only a common theme; there was also a rather pessimistic viewpoint on the purpose of life.  

I was surprised because, if anything, these students should be optimistic and enthusiastic; they are on the cusp of that for which most adults would offer their eye teeth:  Freedom, possibility, and independence!  Nevertheless, several of these students feel hopeless and terrified.  Why?    

**Public Service Announcement:  You might want to quit reading right now because you’re probably going to get your undies in a bunch if you keep going.  If you persist, remember: You were warned. 

In mulling over the situation, I have come to the conclusion that it’s partially our (as in, my generation’s) faults.  We have raised a generation of self-involved marshmallows.

In our limited, but well-intentioned thinking, we parents thought we were doing our kids a favor.  In retrospect, we have done more damage than good.  

To explain, all parents (that is, the ones who take the job of parenting seriously) want a better life to their kids than they had.  In that quest, parents busted their butts to remove obstacles/barriers, open doors, and smoothen paths to provide nothing short of a Disney-esque (it’s magical!) existence and childhood for their kids. 

The problem is that the lack of adversity and challenge has handi-capped those kids.  Because of our over-involvement (and yes, I am implicating myself when it comes to overinvolvement), our kids cannot and do not know how to problem-solve.  They lack imagination.  They are our lost without intervention and direction. They have no sense of reality and are woefully deficient when it comes to emotional intelligence.  Worst of all, they are lacking a moral compass to provide direction in their lives.  Now, those are a lot of inflammatory claims to make, so it behooves me to provide proof for these claims.

**These are generalizations.  They may or may not apply to your kids.  

Kids do not know how to problem-solve and lack imagination.

I see this issue all day, every day, at school and have witnessed it with my own kids. When they run into a roadblock of some kind, rather than problem-solve or persist, they shut down and/or quit.  They opt for failure, or in the very least, play the victim card instead of pushing through to find a different way to succeed.  Unfortunately, we parents are partially to blame because we have not allowed kids the opportunity to do things for themselves and/or problem solve.  In our quest to provide a happy, stress-free childhood, we have spent far too much time and energy in either eliminating the problems and/or fixing them for kids.  

Kids have no sense of reality.

Again, because we have tried to provide for all of their “needs” (of which many are “wants”), kids do not have a realistic sense of how the world works.  Money and bills are a good example of this.  If a kid is in a sport, s/he is generally oblivious to all the money that has gone into making that experience a reality: athletic fees, clothing, equipment, travel and entrance fees, etc.  Thus, when s/he is finally faced with the “real” bills associated with adulthood, s/he is often overwhelmed.  Since kids have no sense of reality with regard to how the adult world works, when they are faced with adulthood (graduation, turning 18, choosing a career, etc), they are scared because they are unprepared. This causes them to shut down and develop all sorts of disorders they previously did not have, including anxiety and depression, to which we adults respond with more coddling. Our reaction is to diminish expectations and enact modifications, which only exacerbates the problem.  Now, I am not belittling anxiety and depression, nor am I saying that we adults should or need to be heartless.  Nevertheless, in 23 years of teaching seniors, I have seen numerous examples of this, and each year, it gets worse.   

Kids have become increasingly narcissistic.

This isn’t a new concept.  It is the nature of a teenager to think only of him or herself.  We were all there.  The hope and goal, however, is that as one grows and matures, s/he grows out of it.  My generation of parents, however, has spent the bulk of their lives in over-inflating the egos of our kids, praising everything and chanting meaningless statements of affirmation for minimal effort. Likewise, we have made our kids the centerpiece of our lives – financially, emotionally, and literally (since our schedules are filled with all things THEM to the obliteration of that which we enjoy).  It should be no big surprise that our kids are understandably fixated on self and therefore, gauge everything in life to have value according to their likes and dislikes.  For example, I often hear “school is dumb because I’m bored” or “I didn’t do my homework because it just didn’t interest me.”  In addition, because of this narcissistic attitude, these kids generally have no perception of anyone or anyone else’s needs outside their existence.  Empathy and sympathy are foreign concepts that, according to them, don’t matter because, well, the situation does not involve them. 

Activity is today’s religion.

Before you get all huffy, think with an open mind.  We are a generation of parents who have chosen to worship at the altar of activity.  That’s not to say that a moral education has been sacrificed in all families. However, there is no denying that most of us have opted to sink our money, time, and energy into activities:  vacations, clubs, sports and tournaments, etc, versus prioritizing faith and moral education.  We are to blame for allowing BUSY (at a Conference several years ago, the speaker explained the word, BUSY, as an acronym for Being Under Satan’s Yoke) to usurp our families.  

Some may be rolling their eyes, thinking “Here we go. Now, she’s heading off into religious fanaticism.” Well, here’s the deal.  Even if you don’t believe in any entity and/or have no faith-related connections, if you are a good parent, you are more than likely trying to instill morals and values into your children.  Where, in the world, do you think those basic values originated?  People are not born good with an intention to do good; unless the value system you are trying to instill in your kids is selfish in nature, those values started in a faith-based system.

The consequence of our actions is two-fold.  More kids than ever before are claiming to be atheists, and not surprisingly, more kids than ever before are suffering from depression and anxiety, are involved in high risk behaviors such as drug and alcohol (mostly drugs around these parts), and openly claim that their futures seem hopeless and pointless.  We parents have allows media and social media, in particular, to provide the parameters of social interaction and behavior, and our kids are suffering because of it. 

So how do we fix this?  What can we do?  Before I answer those questions, let me tell you a few stories:

Growing up, my family burned wood to heat the house in the winter.  This was more by necessity than choice.  As a consequence, burning wood was a family affair.  In the summer, everybody helped to cut, split, and haul wood.  In the winter, my brother and I had the chore of having to transfer the wood from the wood pile to the house.  Therefore, I remember being very upset about having to come home right away after school to complete that chore.  

To facilitate the process, my dad had made a chute through which my brother and I would have to push the wood down after pushing it through a basement window. One of us would have to be outside to throw it in, while the other was in the basement and had to avoid getting hit while stacking it.  At the time, I was mad because it didn’t seem fair that while everybody else my age was playing after school, I had to work.  Therefore, I can’t remember a time when I joyfully completed this task; however, I certainly appreciated the intense head that the wood provided on the coldest day of winter.  There was, indeed, a reward for all that hard work.

From the time I was ten years old, I was responsible for either getting supper or started and/or making supper. My mom and dad rode together to work to a town that was about twenty minutes away.  They usually arrived home between 4 and 4:30 p.m., and supper was supposed to be underway, if not ready, by the time they got home.  Again, I often grumbled about this because I felt ripped off; I “never” got to play with anyone after school. The meals themselves were fairly rudimentary – nothing fancy; even so, this chore taught me a thing or two about responsibility at an early age.  

Responsibility was also a factor when I acquired the Grit paper route as an elementary kid.  Once per week, rain or shine, cold or hot, I walked (I cannot remember ever having been given a ride.  On the coldest days of the year, Mom just wound an extra scarf around my head) the circumference of Prinsburg to deliver the newspaper to my customers.  The delivering part wasn’t so bad; although I know I tried to get out of it on nasty days when I knew the wind was going to rip my face when I crossed, what was once, an open field near the downtown area.  

The worst part was collecting payment because it meant I had to socialize with my customers, usually elderly adults who loved company – particularly little girls – and conversation.  The first one on my route was the one I dreaded most:  Nell DeVries.  She was a tiny Dutch woman who lived alone with the exception of the most enormous cat I have seen in my life.  Each time I went to collect payment, I learned quickly that I would have to earn my pay by enduring a half hour of tea and conversation. 

That cat terrified me; more than once it had tried to bite me. During tea, it would sit on the counter behind Nell, silently protecting its owner, while I choked down the refreshments of tea (no sugar) and dill pickles and tried to navigate Nell’s thick Dutch accent as she talked of her daughter, Neva, a missionary in Africa.  

From there, I would make my way from house to house, visiting with Mr. Bulthuis, the Vande Eindes (Mrs. Alice seemed to always have a fresh batch of oliebollen, a Dutch treat, for me. Not a fan of raisins, I always ate one to be polite, as my mother had told me to do), the Marcuses and so on.  At that time, all that visiting seemed like such a chore.  Now, I consider that time to be priceless – something never to be recaptured.  What a blessing to hear their stories and learn from them, and what a valuable practice in the rules of social exchange and etiquette. 

The Grit experience was also my introduction into the world of finance.  Each month, the Grit bill would arrive.  I would have to fish out the correct amount from the Tupperware container of the dimes, quarters and nickels in which I had been paid, and mail it away. Whatever was left in the container was mine.  If my bookkeeping had been faulty, or if I had been remiss in collecting from my customers; then, my profit margin was non-existent.  It was an invaluable experience in money management.

Due to choice and probably a dose of heredity, I was a portly, rotund youngster.  Although I didn’t like being fat, I liked dessert much more and wouldn’t give it up.  This resulted in me being the largest girl in my class throughout elementary school and into junior high.  Naturally, this made me an easy (and easily-seen) target for the bullies in my world, and as I recall, one boy in particular bestowed on me a rather unpleasant nickname, Tank, which stuck with me throughout elementary school.  

Due to my excessive girth, I recall very vividly being one of the few kids who did not earn the Presidential Fitness Award in 5^th or 6^th grade.  Clearly, it must have bothered me because I remember this fact all these years later.  Later, my struggle with food manifested itself in an eating disorder, which disordered more than eating in my life for quite some time.  As significant and unpleasant as it all was, I wouldn’t trade my past for any other.  My size and relationship with food was the necessary motivator for change as I decided to make healthier choices in eating, thinking, and exercising.

In order to put myself through college, I worked at a nursing home for four years.  It was a crappy job – quite literally – but I loved the people I worked with, and it taught me some valuable lessons about empathy and compassion, ones that definitely have affected how I treat people to this day.  Likewise, after graduating from college in 1992, I had no job prospects (it was November), so to supplement my salary as a substitute teacher, I got a job at the Spicer Dairy Queen.  I had great bosses, who were very accommodating with my weird schedule (I could be called to sub at a moment’s notice).  Nevertheless, as the newb, I was the low girl on the totem pole with regard to the rest of the employees, many of which were teenagers, so I often got stuck with the jobs no one else wanted, one of which was cleaning the men’s bathroom.  I quickly learned the many ways in which a bathroom can be defiled.  Nevertheless, I would never trade the humility I learned in both jobs.  I was never too good to do any task, which still is a thought and habit I have today.  Even with my students, I do not ask them to do something that I would not or could not do.  To me, the only successful leadership model is servant-leadership, and I am forever grateful to have learned it, even though at the time, I probably didn’t appreciate it.

Lastly, while growing up, money was tight.  Mom and Dad always made sure the basics were covered so that my brother and I were never without necessities.  I have no doubt that they sacrificed much so that my brother and I could have more, and they were as generous as their finances allowed them to be.  They gave me a car and paid for the insurance; I had to put gas in it.  Even though I paid my way through college, I was given a weekly allowance of $5, for which I was very grateful. 

Likewise, when Mike and I were first married, we were poor as church mice.  We survived on $50 per month for groceries, and all of our furniture was the cast-offs of relatives.  One particular memory that comes to mind was right around our first anniversary.  I can remember that we watched the New London Water Days street dance and fireworks from our bedroom window because that’s what we could afford for entertainment.  Even so, as we lay side-by-side, watching the fireworks explode, I can remember being very happy and content.  

Fortunately, life has improved for us, but I am very grateful for having had nothing.  Because finances were tight, we learned very quickly to be the bosses of our money, instead of the other way around.  It also made us appreciative and caused us to take care of that which we acquired because we were well aware of the work and effort that had gone in to making that acquisition. You appreciate more when you have nothing.  I’ve also learned, quite humbly, that my parents did a much better job than I in the parenting department.  

All of these examples from my past boil down to one undeniable fact:  Adversity and challenge are necessary ingredients to personal growth.  Nature reinforces this idea.  When birds are ready to hatch, it is imperative that the baby birds do all the work.  Although it might be tempting for someone to try to help by breaking the shell, thereby removing the hardship and struggle for the bird, the result is devastating.  The bird will not survive.  It needs to go through the struggle to gain the strength that they will need to survive.  The same thing is true of kids.  In order to raise strong, healthy kids, we as parents need to back off. I wish I would have realized this a whole lot sooner with my own two. Therefore, I humbly suggest that our responsibility as parents is to:

1.  Let kids fail. It’s no fun to watch, and it will be no fun for them to experience.  However, the only way for them to truly learn responsibility, consequence, perseverance, and a host of other truly important life skills, kids have to own their actions.  Sometimes, that results in a celebration of success; other times, the result is facing the humility of failure.

2.  Make kids do it themselves.  Avoid baby bird syndrome.  If they are ever going to learn, become strong, and/or become independent, kids need to complete tasks and responsibilities by themselves.  That’s not to say that we need to abandon them, but we need to return to the original role that we were meant to fulfill as parents:  those who train and guide.

3.  Let kids struggle.  In some ways, this one seems like a repeat of number 1.  Struggle and failure co-exist; however, they are not always partners in the end result.  No parent likes or wants to see a kid in pain or in frustration; however, the struggle is as much a part of the process as is the end result.  If independence is the desired end, we have to allow them opportunities to practice, just as we would in a sport or activity.

4.  Force kids to fight selfishness.  This sounds a little violent, but that’s not the intention.  If you offer them opportunities to be involved with others, most kids will decline the opportunity.  Helping others has to be a non-negotiable part of child (and teenage) rearing.  Likewise, interaction needs to run the gamut of people – all ages, races, etc.  Prejudice is the result of fear and ignorance; experience takes away fear.  Helping others not only combats narcissism; it just feels good.  Likewise, in a day and age of socialization via technology, face-to-face interaction teaches social skills and empathy.  Although time is always a factor in our lives, the benefits of an others-oriented life far outweigh any weak objections we can muster.

5.  Make God/church the top priority. Out of all the activities we cram into our family’s schedule, this is the only one that has lifelong significance and impact.  Everything that is a concern in life– values, money, activity, responsibility, community, socialization, meaning, purpose – is addressed in a faith connection.  In fact, if one were to flip this essay on its head, read this first, and work backwards, the issues and concerns that have been raised would be eliminated if each and every one of us did just this one.