Developing the All-Around Child (from BostonMagazine.com)

I was honored to participate in an "online roundtable" panel of experts over at Boston Magazine related to overparenting.  The question I was asked to answer, along with four experts in psychology and social work, was "Are We Overparenting Our Kids?" This roundtable was tied to a feature story written by Katheine Ozment called "Welcome to the Age of Overparenting."  (Note that I was especially thrilled to have a seat at the virtual table with Jerome Kagan, who I met as an undergraduate when I received a fellowship in his name/honor to support research related to childhood.) At the annual College Board conference this fall, the dean of admissions at Harvard, William Fitzsimmons, revived some parental panic. According to The New York Times, he told an assembled crowd that successful Harvard applicants are “good all-rounders — academically, extracurricularly, and personally.”

This wasn’t the first time, and it won’t be the last, that gatekeepers like Fitzsimmons induce hand-ringing, acid reflux, and sleepless nights among credentials-concerned parents — even if their children are still in elementary school. In the fall of 2008, Fitzsimmons similarly set off alarm bells in affluent suburbs around Boston when he was quoted in The Boston Globe, saying, “Even fifth-graders in Wellesley, Newton, and Brookline, who as adults will face international competition for jobs, should begin beefing up their academic résumés if they want a shot at an Ivy League education.”

It’s clear that for millions of upper-middle and middle-class American children today, waiting until high school to prove one’s mettle would be a mistake. The college admissions race requires far more advanced preparation, orchestrated and monitored by involved parents who ferry their scheduled kids from school to music lessons to sports practice to private tutoring to home, repeating the cycle day after day.

Of course, it is tempting to denounce these preoccupations as the hyper-fixation of neurotic parents who are living through their children. (See: Controversy, Tiger Mom, Amy Chua) But are these parents crazy?

No. (Though at times they may exhibit questionable behavior …)

Their children face very real bottlenecks through which they need to pass if they are going to achieve in ways similar to their parents. And the probability of that outcome appears to be less than it once was.

Media coverage of recent low college acceptance rates only fuels parents’ anxiety, reinforcing the competitive culture, even among the preschool set. This is partly because of the 15 year-long rise in the number of high school graduates — which is peaking right now at around 2.9 million. And it’s not just that there are more students, but also that more of them are applying to particular schools. Last year Harvard saw a 6.2 percent acceptance rate, with almost 35,000 applicants.

Based on my research of families with elementary school-age children who participate in competitive chess, dance, and soccer, it would be a mistake to think that parents fixate on college admissions every Saturday afternoon. Instead, they understand the grooming of their child as producing a certain kind of character and a track record of success that is valued during the long march toward the pursuit of advanced degrees, like JDs, MDs, MBAs, and PhDs. But were parents to think in directly instrumental terms about that thick admissions envelope, they would not be far off the mark: activity participation, particularly athletics, can confer an admissions advantage, either through athletic scholarships or an admissions “boost.”

That U.S. colleges and universities consider admissions categories other than academic merit is rooted in history and is uniquely American; I argue that it is part of the reason that highly competitive and organized afterschool activities are more common here. Jerome Karabel in The Chosen shows how the “Big Three” of Harvard, Princeton, and Yale, developed new admissions criteria in the 1920s to keep out “undesirables,” like Jews and immigrants. This new system valued the “all-around man,” who was naturally involved in extracurricular clubs and athletics.

Middle- and upper-middle class parents today understand the importance of this “all-around (wo)man,” and consequently may seem to overparent their young kids to get them on the right track. But given the history of college admissions in this country, and current state of affairs, can you blame them?

CLICK HERE TO SEE THIS ON BOSTON MAGAZINE'S WEBSITE!

In the Wake of the Sandusky Scandal, A Call for Youth Coaching Certifications (from HuffPo Parents)

CLICK HERE TO READ THE FULL ARTICLE ON THE HUFFINGTON POST PARENTS The arrest of Jerry Sandusky, a former college football coach and community volunteer who worked with children, on forty counts of child molestation of young boys has shocked and frightened many parents. As well it should.

At the end of every weekday millions of kids dash out of school and into the care of adults, like Sandusky, who are meant to teach and mentor them in sports, academics, and music. Some of these adults generously donate their time (like Scout leaders, church volunteers, tutors, and Little League coaches), while others charge a fee for their services (like dance and music teachers or coaches of travel teams/elite sports).

While they are all educating children, not all of these adults are vetted. Regulation of afterschool coaches, mentors, and volunteers is so lax, and in some cases nonexistent, that many do not ever undergo a routine background check to make sure they have never been convicted of child molestation. That means that some of the "professionals" paid to teach children in afterschool activities may have previously been convicted, charged, or accused of child molestation. Earlier this year the gymnastics community was rocked by a sexual abuse scandal when it was discovered that coach Doug Boger, who had been banned by USA Gymnastics for abusing girls in California, was still coaching young girls in a gym in Colorado Springs. States are responsible for passing laws to require background checks, and not all states have such legislation. At a minimum, all fifty states should require mandatory, national, fingerprint-based background checks of all adults who interact with children (legally defined as those 18 and under).

But is that enough? No. In addition to making sure that the basics are covered -- like those background checks regarding child molestation, and CPR certification -- parents should make sure that coaches are experts in their area, with training in both the substantive subject matter (like piano, chess, soccer, etc.) and in instruction of children. State legislation that certifies youth activity coaches and organizations would make that process easier.

CLICK HERE TO KEEP READING!

Currently anyone can open a dance studio or a music school and no one could stop them from charging fees for services. Essentially no formal certification procedures exist to make sure that the tap teacher, the oboe instructor, or the lacrosse coach who you write a check to each month is qualified to instruct your child in tap, the oboe, or lacrosse. Imagine if we ran schools this way.

Since 2005 I have studied the organization of children's competitive afterschool activities both as a graduate student at Princeton University and as a post-doctoral fellow at Harvard University. When I was studying competitive youth soccer I interviewed one business owner who proudly told me that because he is from Latin America parents assume he is good at soccer. In fact, he is a terrible player. Instead of playing up soccer skills, he plays up his accent which he claimed parents responded to well.

This may seem obvious, but when it comes to kids' activities, these issues are often happily ignored; parents don't want to offend a coach and risk precious playing time or attention for their child by asking questions. But given the number of injuries currently observed in children's activities, from broken bones to concussions to serious knee injuries, like ACL tears, this needs to change for the safety of those children. Coaches need to be properly trained to train young bodies, and minds, in a safe way. As more and more kids participate in these activities in an increasingly competitive way, more serious injuries will result.

Many coaches and parents resist formal regulation of youth coaches on two grounds. The first is that we should not live in a nanny state that tells parents what they should or should not do with their kids. But this used to be said about daycare centers. After one too many accidents and one too many child molestation cases, this changed as the need to protect children and provide parents with safe options became more important.

Others resist certification procedures because that may drive up the costs. Again, this used to be said about childcare, and while the professionalization of childcare providers has resulted in higher fees, fewer children dying or being abused makes the trade-off seem worth it.

In the end every parent will make the decision they think best for his or her child. But that decision should be based on as much trustworthy information as possible. At present parents can ask other parents about experiences with a particular youth sports coach or organization. But if states required certifications for coaches, dance studios, gyms, and the like, parents would have a more reliable source of information and trust that their children are being safely instructed by other adults.

Sadly, nail salons are better regulated and have more safety requirements than programs where children can suffer catastrophic physical and emotional injury. If some good can come of the Sandusky scandal perhaps it can be treating our children as least as well as we treat our nails.

One Dream Gives Rise to Another: Reviewing Rise (documentary on 1961 figure skating crash)

This past September a horrible plane crash in Russia killed an entire elite hockey team.  Over 40 people died as a result of simple pilot error in a great sports tragedy. In 1961 the figure skating community experienced a similar—but in many ways even bigger—tragedy.  The entire United States figure skating team (including athletes, coaches, officials, judges, friends and family) was killed in a plane crash en route to the 1961 World Championships in Prague.  Over 70 died on February 15, 1961 including 12- and 15-year-old children.

Being an avid figure skating fan for many years (and a particular fan of coach Frank Carroll), I was well aware of this tragedy and the repercussions it has had on US figure skating. I love a good “fluff piece” during sports broadcasts and the story of the 1961 always tugged at the heart strings. A new full-length documentary, Rise, offers the most complete picture yet of the impact of the crash on those involved and the current state of American figure skating.

Rise, made in 2010 (not to be confused with 2005's  Rize, also a great documentary, though on krumping, featuring a young So You Think You Can Dance judge/choreographer Lil C), commemorates the 50^th anniversary of arguably one of the greatest sports tragedies of all time.  It was shown in theaters on February 17 and March 7, 2011, and was shown on the Versus network last month (how I was able to recently see it).  It is a beautifully produced and edited film that intersperses the stories of those who lost their lives with the stories of those in the present who have been affected by the crash.  Interviews with those who just missed the team or the plane trip (either through injury or pregnancy, for example) and family members of those who died are particularly powerful.

Equally powerful are the interviews with current and recent figure skating stars like Scott Hamilton, Michelle Kwan, Brian Boitano, Peggy Fleming, Dorothy Hamill, and Evan Lysacek.  Most, like Kwan and Lysacek, were coached by those who stepped in to fill the void created by the death of their own coaches (I especially loved Frank Carroll talking about how his coach, the great Maribel Vinson Owen, would physically touch her skaters to correct them—something he does with his skaters to this day).  Others benefited in more practical, material ways.  A few days after the crash the United States Figure Skating Association established a Memorial Fund, which still exists today.  That fund helped Fleming and Hamilton, for example, afford skates so that they could compete.  In this way the tragedy of the crash has helped give rise to the dreams of a new generation.

The focus of Rise is not on the crash itself.  In fact, there is little discussion of what went wrong, and it’s really not important to the story. The focus instead is on rising to the moment—the way Lysacek did at the 2010 Vancouver Olympic games, winning the gold medal and being able to award the coach’s gold medal to Carroll.  I particularly enjoyed learning more about the Broadmoor Skating Club in Colorado, which was one of the clubs most affected by the tragedy.  The other, of course, was the Boston Skating Club, where Maribel Vinson Owen coached (Owen still holds the record for most national championships won), and where she coached her two daughters to their own national championships (one in singles, Laurence, who appeared on the cover of Sports Illustrated the week of the crash, and the other, Maribel, in pairs).  The story of the Owens family and the Boston Skating Club has received more attention over the years, so it was interesting to learn about the other clubs that were also deeply impacted by the crash.

Coincidentally the 1961 National Championships were the first to be shown on national television, so the great footage of those who lost their lives performing at their peaks is especially moving.  Television has had a profound impact on figure skating and it’s really interesting to see it enter into the history of the sport at this moment.

There are many other interesting links to the present, and continuities across the five decades.  For example, it’s clear that stage mothers in figure skating were quite common even in the 1960s (both the Westerfeld and Owen mothers clearly displayed traces of being stage moms).  Then, as now, some families had to physically separate to support the dreams of their children and the financial strain sometimes led to divorce.  Finally, figure skating, more than other elite sports that target adolescents, seems to send its top performers to elite higher educational institutions (in recent memory Sarah Hughes went to Yale, Emily Hughes to Harvard, Paul Wylie to Harvard as well, Rachael Flatt to Stanford, etc.).  And many seem to excel in other artistic activities, like music, in addition to skating.  Laurence Owen, at 17, had already been admitted to Radcliffe and hoped to become a writer; singles skater Steffi Westerfeld was a pianist, honor student, and homecoming queen.

Rise honors these families, and more, and continues to honor today’s families that sacrifice to give rise to their children’s skating dreams. You can purchase the DVD of this excellent documentary, and proceeds go to the 1961 Memorial Fund.  I dare you to watch this film without getting a tear in your eye.

Pas de Deux: A Review of Bunheads and Audition (from The Huffington Post Books)

CLICK HERE TO READ THIS ON THE HUFFINGTON POST BOOKS! It's no wonder that young adult readers are fascinated by the world of competitive ballet. Even if they aren't dancers themselves, teens are drawn in by the all-consuming dance world (made more intriguing by the general absence of parents) and the focus on romance as male and female bodies intertwine. In time for holiday shopping, two books on young adult life in ballet companies have hit the shelves in the past month -- Sophie Flack's Bunheads and Stasia Ward Kehoe's Audition.

Sophie Flack, a former dancer (and one-time "bunhead") with the New York City Ballet who left her suburban Boston home at 14 to study at the School of American Ballet, has penned a well-paced, semi-autobiographical work of fiction. Her protagonist, Hannah Ward, also left her suburban Boston home for New York City as a young teen, and she now dances with the Manhattan Ballet Company. Flack's spot-on description of Hannah's childhood experiences with ballet (for example, "I'd change into my leotard in the backseat of our minivan and do my bun in the mirrored sun visor. I didn't fit in with the other kids at school, but when I got to the studio, I felt completely at home.") is surely culled from personal experience, and offers a window into the lives and experiences of thousands of young dancers.

Bunheads follows 19-year-old Hannah as she cycles through the annual ballet season, struggling with her identity as she yearns to see what friendship, romance, and daily city life looks like outside of a leotard and tights. As she is pursued by two different men -- one a collegiate musician and the other a wealthy son of a businessman with philanthropic ties to the ballet company --she also deals with the daily stress of competing with her only girlfriends and fighting off changes to her body. Hannah notes that she didn't get her period until she was 18 and while she watches what she eats, she does in fact eat, unlike some of her friends/rivals. As it is for many, Hannah's nineteenth year is a watershed one in which she finds out much about herself, relationships, and professional realities.

Stasia Ward Kehoe's teen ballet novel, Audition, also portrays a young, female, New England-born ballet dancer's struggles with identity, romance (this time with a fellow ballet dancer), and professional aspirations vs. realities throughout a ballet season. 16-year-old Sara has left her hometown in Vermont to train on scholarship with the Jersey City Ballet. Her life is turned upside down as she becomes the worst dancer in her age group and finds herself in a much more rigorous, but stimulating, academic setting. Kehoe's story is far more explicitly sexual than Flack's, as Sara loses her virginity to the older Remington, and then has a somewhat exploitative sexual relationship with him.

Written in verse Audition initially seems like a hefty read, but the pages turn quickly once the reader gets into the rhythm of the words and Sara's story. Kehoe can turn an evocative phrase, like the way she describes the "encrusted hairspray" of the dancer, or the minimalist way in which she describes a dancer's eating disorder:

"The way she counts out raisins -- only six/ To eat between afternoon technique class/ And a grueling evening of variations."

Both Bunheads and Audition emphasize the ways in which "every day is an audition" in the world of competitive ballet. There are many more similarities between the two works -- and to other fictional works about young people in ballet companies -- suggesting some common themes and stereotypes in the ballet world. If you have seen the movie Center Stage you will be familiar with the bad boy ballet dancer/choreographer who rides a motorcycle, like Kehoe's Remington. Or if you have read Toni Bentley's memoir Winter Season you will be familiar with the particular disdain dancers have for The Nutcracker and the horrible tasting fake snow they must dance with almost every night (Note that at times, Bunheads reads like an updated, fictionalized version of Bentley's young life in Balanchine's company of the early 1980s). All four works touch on eating disorders, homosexuality, and injuries. Most importantly they discuss the "ever-present fear of failure" that afflicts all teenagers, but which is heightened in the ultra-competitive, talent-and appearance-based world of dance.

Bentley also notes in Winter Season that ballet dancers are "a funny class of society -- we come from all backgrounds, from mailmen's kids to doctors' and lawyers' kids." This universality allows all of these works to appeal to a broad base, even if the readers aren't themselves dancers.

(Another 2011 young adult release, Leap, by Jodi Lundgren, is also about a teen dancer -- though 15-year-old Natalie is a modern dancer living in Canada, so her tale may resonate with fewer readers.)

Audition and Bunheadsare especially great picks for today's young readers as they are set in contemporary times, complete with text messaging dramas and traumas. They would make an excellent pas de deux together on any reader's bookshelf.

CLICK HERE TO READ THIS ON THE HUFFINGTON POST BOOKS!

Foot Perfect: A Review of Jig

One weekend I went shopping at a mall in downtown Boston—and was transported into another culture.  A hotel, connected to the mall, was hosting an Irish dancing competition (or “feis”). My friend turned to me and asked, “Wait, is this a child beauty pageant, or something else?”  With the bobbing heads full of Shirley Temple-like artificial curls, the tanned legs, the glitzy, flouncy dresses (that can cost around $2500), the make-up, and the anxious mothers and daughters, you’d be excused for thinking you might be at a child beauty pageant (And, indeed, I think the events might be distant cousins for historical and sociological reasons—but more on that another time. In the meantime, it's interesting to think how appearances in Irish dancing compare to the appearance of young, Irish Traveller girls). But you’d be wrong. Jig, a 2010 feature documentary just released to DVD, focuses on nine contestants competing at the 40^th Irish Dancing World Championships, held in Glasgow, Scotland.  The film shows the extraordinary hard work, practice, and athletic ability (including a serious cardio workout) that goes into creating a “foot perfect” contestant.  All contestants have already qualified for the Worlds and are in the final preparations for the big event. Jig concludes with the award ceremony in Glasgow.  Interspersed throughout are interviews with the dancers, their parents, and their teachers.

The stars of the film are its youngest contestants, three ten-year-olds.  Brogan from Northern Ireland is an especially well spoken, clever, and engaging young lady.  Her main rival, Julia O’Rourke from Long Island, is a serious competitor. Julia’s family (including her Filipino mother and Irish father who had never participated in Irish dancing before) invests in private lessons (aka “privates”) and physical therapy sessions to help give her an edge.  John, from Birmingham, England, is immensely talented and sweet, if a bit forgetful—a real-life version of Billy Elliott.

I had a harder time engaging with the three nineteen-year-old female contestants, and keeping them straight. Two teenage boys have interesting back stories (one boy grew up in California, but his parents moved to England to help him train as a dancer, with his father giving up a medical practice; the other is from the Netherlands, adopted by a Dutch family from Sri Lanka), but less interesting onscreen personas.  And the team of older Russian women were also hard to keep straight, especially because their story arc is fairly short in the film.

Not surprisingly Jig has been compared to two of my favorite documentaries of all time—Spellbound (about the National Spelling Bee featuring middle schoolers from the US and Canada) and Mad Hot Ballroom (featuring elementary school kids from across New York City participatingin a city-wide ballroom competition). While I really enjoyed Jig, it doesn’t reach the level of these other two films for me for two reasons.  The first is that many of the children draw you into their lives in Spellbound and Mad Hot Ballroom. When I saw the latter in the theater my fellow audience members and I cheered aloud together by the end of the film.  Partly due to the presence of so many characters in Jig, I felt this was harder to do. Then again, I loved that the featured dancers really showed how international competitive Irish dancing is, so it is a difficult trade-off.

The second way in which I found it more difficult to relate to Jig is that it is simply harder to understand competitive Irish dance. We know from Riverdance that the upper body is usually stationary.  But I didn’t understand why the face was often blank while dancing. And I certainly didn’t understand the intricacy of the footwork, and differences between hard and soft shoe style.  Even as someone who follows dance (and cheer, and gymnastics, and figure skating…), I couldn’t quite discern why some dancers were so far superior to others, even when they danced side-by-side (as they do in rhythmic gymnastics, for example).  I was certainly impressed by their skills, but with a bit more explanation of the technique I could have been blown away.

That said, the film highlighted many similarities between Irish dancing and other forms of competitive dance.  For example, as in Dance Moms, we saw teachers who yell, kids who give up aspects of their social lives (like missing birthday parties), and young dancers struggling with injuries.  You also see and hear about the ways in which family members invest in this activity, both financially and by making costumes.

More serious issues that affect many other competitive activities also came up—like judge tampering.  Another similarity across different competitive activities includes the language of getting drawn in by the competitive experience itself (Julia O’Rourke’s parents astutely commented that when they started they couldn’t understand why a family would drive to Connecticut to compete, but now they fly to foreign countries).

What I truly enjoyed about Jig is that it highlighted some important and powerful differences too.  Again, this is a very international activity, which was nice to see.  You also actually have to qualify for the Worlds (unlike many “Nationals” in the US, which for most activities are pay-to-play) and the Worlds appear to be quite a big deal.  Over several days you get about six minutes on stage dancing among 6000 other competitors and in front of 20-30,000 spectators who cycle through.  Finally, I loved the use of live music during the competitions, which is not common at all at dance competitions (even ballet competitions), or gymnastics, figure skating, or synchronized swimming events.

The end of Jig is a real highlight.  You can feel the tension in the room as scores are announced and revealed on a screen.  It was amusing to see the kids, parents, and teachers hold their heads in anxiety waiting to see the final scores—I kept shouting at the screen that all they had to do was add! I’m sure nerves played a role, but I know I would just bring a calculator or use an Excel spreadsheet to add up the scores quickly.  I guess that’s the social scientist in me… I also took particular delight that the top prize included a mirror-ball trophy. Maybe that is where they get the inspiration from on Dancing with the Stars?!

All in all, Jig is a delightful and objective portrayal of an impressive, but little understood competitive activity.  I hope this brings some deserved attention to Irish dancing, especially in the United States, and that we continue to receive updates on its stars (Note: Jig’s IMDb page has results from the 2011 World Championships for those spotlighted in the film).  But you won't be seeing them on Toddlers & Tiaras anytime soon.