The Privilege of Passion

Last week the always reflective Motherlode ran a very thoughtful and insightful essay by Lisa Heffernan, "Our Push for 'Passion,' and Why It Harms Kids." Heffernan actually makes the case that some forms of manufactured passion hurt not just the kids, but the whole family. Part of the reason why her essay is compelling (besides her clear, wise voice) is that she writes with self-reflection, admitting she herself has fallen victim to the "parental obsession with passion... encouraged by the college admissions process and fed by our own fears."

The essay rightly hones in on the role college admissions (though, in actuality it is more precise to say *elite* college admissions) in creating this push for passion: "At some point in the last 20 years the notion of passion, as applied to children and teenagers, took hold. By the time a child rounds the corner into high school and certainly before he sets up an account with the Common App, the conventional wisdom is that he needs to have a passion that is deep, easy to articulate, well documented and makes him stand out from the crowd." Heffernan also lasers in on one of the many reasons why this can be harmful to kids, "Pseudo passions can eat up our days and lay waste to any chance of finding real ones."

That said I need to make two important additions to this piece based on my research (much of it captured in Playing to Win: Raising Children in a Competitive Culture).

1) The ability to pursue a "passion" and invest familial/individual time and resources to do so is an enormously classed activity. When many families struggle for survival each month the notion that a child needs to find "their" thing is laughable not just in other parts of the world, but certainly in the US as well.

That said, some activities have been seen as worthwhile of passion in low-income communities as they can seem like a "way out"-- the traditional ones are basketball and football. In this case the endgame is usually not college (elite or otherwise) but professional levels of play. Talent and perseverance trump passion, and passion isn't seen as essential to the mix when there is almost a desperation.

The same can be said for other activities. One of my favorite passages from Joan Ryan's inside look at gymnastics and figure skating, Little Girls in Pretty Boxes, captures this notion: "Bragg himself had been a swimming coach, but swimming held no magic. It couldn’t turn milkmaids into princesses. To him, skating was more than a sport. To succeed in skating was to succeed in life. It was a road to riches and recognition, and perhaps more important, it was a road to respectability. Skating offered a life of restaurants with cloth napkins, hotels with marble lobbies, a life where a girl from the wrong side of the tracks could be somebody." [Bragg actually gave up custody of his daughter to her skating coach]

Even the language of "passion" is a terribly upper/middle class one in the contemporary US. It is akin to helping each child "find their voice." Sociologists and anthropologists have written about this language and worldview elsewhere, but it's worthwhile to note again. The Bragg example has more to do with clawing your way up than surviving or just thriving. Passion is far too generous a word for the striving associated with activities, achievement, and class success.

2) During my fieldwork studying kids involved with competitive chess, dance, and soccer I came across a phenomenon in all three activities I hadn't anticipated. I named it "the problem of the high-achieving child." When one child at an activity site was high-achieving it decreased participation of kids in that age group as parents wanted their children to find his/her "passion." In this case, "passion" equals being the best (and honestly that is the subtext of the Heffernan piece).

But what is a child is truly passionate about an activity and they aren't number 1, or even number 2 or 10? I find it such a loss when a child who *loves* an activity is redirected away from it by a parent. Who knows when that child will grow, or have a breakthrough, or whether those shooting stars will fizzle out and the child who stuck with something because s/he loved it may eventually be "the best?" But even if "the best" moniker never applies, if a child loves something they should be able to pursue it. Maybe the NBA will never come calling, or a Division III school, or even the varsity high school team, but perhaps that child becomes Belicheck, or Coach Taylor, or someone who makes a difference in the life of a child someday as a coach or teacher because they still have that same passion?

Passion is a privilege in both senses (class and achievement) and we should recognize this as such to help all children, not just those faced with elite choices.

Grief and Gratefulness: Social Media Connections

When you blog and are active on social media you virtually meet others, who then introduce you to others. Even though I've never met some of these people in real life (aka "IRL") I follow their lives, their children's lives, and often their friends. That's how I "met" Lisa Bonchek Adams and Phyllis Sommer. They have made me cry, they have pointed me toward peace, but they have also made me feel grateful.

Lisa Boncheck Adams passed away on Friday. She wrote about grief of all types, but chiefly related to her diagnosis of metastatic breast cancer in October 2012 (I have been following since before then, but especially after the horrible controversy about her public writings related to married journalists the Kellers). In the past few months her social media feeds became part of what I read each day. I wake up in the morning early, check my email, check the news, read TMZ (yes, I admit it!), Facebook, then Lisa Adams' feed. In the past few weeks it was clear, as she wrote, that things were getting exponentially worse. When she didn't update Twitter at all this week, I checked more because I had such a pit in my stomach. When I read the news yesterday, I cried and I was in a bad mood all day even as I was more grateful than ever for my boys and my time with them.

Especially because I know that Phyllis Sommer doesn't have that time with her son, Sammy. Sammy died in December 2014. I followed Sommers' beautiful, heart-wrenching blog posts about her second son who died of refractory acute myeloid leukemia after being in remission following a bone marrow transplant. When Sammy died I was swollen with my own second son, Quenton who would arrive exactly one month later. I remember furtively, tearfully, desperately reading the updates, hidden away from anyone else though I couldn't hide from my own thoughts. What if it were me?!

Adams and Sommers write the truth of grief and illness, no sugar coating. The terror, the helplessness, and even the gratitude. And as I reflect on what the deaths of such beautiful lights and spirits mean to me, and why they impacted me so very greatly, I can say honestly it is because they reflect my own deepest fears. What if it were MY son? What if it were ME missing the graduations, the achievements, the weddings, the grandchildren? [As I type the words, my eyes well over again.] As I strive to teach my sons empathy for others it's not lost on me that empathy is not something I lack (even if it sometimes highlights selfish feelings). I also know that I have so much admiration for these women and their families, who fought so hard for life, to be with others, to make a difference in the every day and in the elevated sense of the every day.

Even though it is not me (but for the grace...) I still feel helpless. So, like many others, I donate money to the causes in Lisa and Sammy's honors. Actually at Quenton's bris I announced we had donated to his St. Baldrick's event, Q's first act of tzedekah.

When Lisa passed away I donated to her research fund at Memorial Sloan Kettering, and then again to Sammy's sister's Yael's recent head-shaving fundraiser, which she did again this year in her brother's honor.

It is not enough, but it is something, and I encourage you all to do what you can to honor those whose lives touch you, who inspire empathy, who inspire gratefulness and greatness.

Playing around with Books and TV Shows

I've been writing elsewhere lately about various different interests-- my kids, playing, pageants, figure skating, books, TV shows, and child geniuses. You can check out these three different pieces by clicking on the titles:

1) Play, Outsourced- Written as part of the blog series, 28 Days of Play, about what impacts and at times impedes playing with our children. This focuses on the somewhat surprising reason (to me) I enroll my kids in classes like Gymboree, music, dance, etc. (Spoiler alert: the repetitive play of infancy and toddlerhood often bores me.)

2) Two Insider Takes on Beauty Pageants and Figure Skating: The New Memoirs of Dick Button and Kate Shindle- This book review essay about two activities I have long loved- figure skating and pageantry/Miss America- appeared on Huffington Post Books.

3) Not Just High Achievers: What Child Genius says about American achievement culture- My thoughts at Psychology Today on the finale of the Lifetime series Child Genius, following up on my previous blog post about the interesting show.

I wonder if outsourcing my sons' play at times means they will be more or less likely to be on Child Genius someday, or compete in a figure skating competition (actually, my educated opinion is that the answer to that is yes), but they likely won't be competing in beauty pageants... Time will tell!

Reading and Reviewing Parenting Books: The Long View

It's no secret that I am a voracious reader. So when I read that people no longer want to read a book-- or certain type of book-- it makes me very sad. Especially given that one of my hats is as Book Review Editor at Brain, Child Magazine (obviously focusing on books related to parenting). I must admit though that in general I agree with the authors of both articles a bit.

1) Meijler's article out on Kveller today raises the important point that following any book (whether on parenting or other philosophical) to the letter likely isn't the best idea. That's why I like to explore a range of titles on a topic and pick elements that work best for me, my family, household, or work life. In that vein, I have recently done two Top 10 Lists for Brain, Child. The first is on books about sleep and children (not just infants!) and the second is on parenting a child with special needs.

2) I also agree with Schoech that "parenting" books can often be anxiety-laden, knee-jerk, and inflammatory. That's why some of my favorite parenting books aren't actually about parenting at all. For example, see my recent reviews of The Marshmallow Test (one of the best books of any type I have read of late) and Where Children Sleep (truly thought-provoking).

Reading is a gift, as I try to teach my boys, and I hope by reading broadly we can all learn something, even if we don't always agree with everything in a book. Because, more than anything, reading should make us think (and open up new worlds, either fictional or non-fictional)!

Off to sneak in a few more pages now of Lev Grossman's The Magicians!

America's new child genius

I loved the cover story of the January 24th issue of The Economist so much I even took notes. "America's new aristocracy: Education and the inheritance of privilege" is spot on in so many ways. As the leader says, "Today's rich increasingly pass on to their children an asset that cannot be frittered away in a few nights at a casino. It is more useful than wealth, and invulnerable to inheritance tax. It is brains." My children are certainly the beneficiaries (well, I hope) of this assortative mating. But I appreciated that the article also explains that it's not just that these children of the wealthier are resting on their laurels: "Compared to those of days past it is by and large more talented, better schooled, harder working (and more fabulously renumerated) and more diligent in its parental duties. It is not a place where one easily gets by on birth or connections alone. At the same time it is widely seen as increasingly hard to get into." Kids work hard to deserve their inherited status in the meritoracy, but that doesn't make it any easier to get into. Of course, as I know from my PLAYING TO WIN research, it's not not schooling but also after-schooling that matters. And these days it's not just a meritocracy but also a testocracy.

Enter another American spin on a British import: Child Genius. This new Lifetime competitive reality show features 15 kids and their families as they compete to win $100,000 and the title of "child genius." The show manages to combine pint-sized stars with big brains and often big personalities with some compelling (and appalling) parents, along with some smart expert commentary. The two factual competitions each week (which mainly rely on a child's ability to memorize in categories like American presidents, zoology, vocabulary, etc. but also math and logic & reasoning) are inherently edge-of-your-seat watching. The good editing adds another dimension, as does the unabashed goal of winning that often outstrips any concern about cameras.

Obviously most of these kids are the progeny of smart parents; one girl, eliminated in the first week, reveals her IQ is higher than her father's already high number. The show is a rainbow ethnically and racially, and not surprisingly many of the kids are children of immigrants to the US (research on immigration in the US has shown that immigrants who make it here were already at the top in their birth countries so this is not surprising at all). But there is one big exception, Graham, whose family is a bit in awe of the intellect they produced in their small Midwestern town. Intensely religious Graham feels compelled to state he doesn't believe in the Big Bang before dominating the astronomy round (you could see the former NASA astronaut moderator shudder a bit). Graham is one of the reasons reality TV shows continue to thrive, as are Ryan and his domineering parents... especially his mom who hisses all the time she isn't a Tiger mom.

It is so clear that the more social kids who seem to have something more like a "normal" life-- regular school, peers their age, siblings-- are the happiest and most well-adjusted. The family dynamic is so significant here it is hard to overstate. You can see how some parents enjoy their kids (even when one girl reveals she got her brains from her dad, and then proceeds to correct her parents when they say she "self-taught herself" because what they said was redundant), support them, and try to raise them up as good human beings, while others see them as instruments to success. The goal is winning no matter the goal or cost. I can only imagine how crazy it is making some of them that Graham is excelling with so little practice and devotion (speaking of, I wonder if Graham has ever done, or will do, memory contests reciting Bible verses as it seems right up his alley).

In addition to my other interests I am fascinated that so many of these kids rely on a luck trope to explain their success in a phase of the competition, declaring they "got lucky" when they got first in a round or got a perfect score. Only once, thus far, has a negative luck trope been used when one boy got eliminated and his mom felt it was unfair (it wasn't, he gave the wrong answer, for the record, her name is SANDRA Day O'Connor). Of course luck does have to do with it for these kids, as they got lucky to be born into the families they did, per The Economist, but they also work unbelievably hard, studying every day and working to learn more almost every minute of every day. I'm curious to see how this ends and what becomes of these kids in the future. I suspect I will see more than a few in the Spelling or Geography Bees in the next few years (one contestant I recognized from lats year's Bee!), and then who knows...

But I'm sure even they would ask, as I did, why The Economist chose to feature Yale and not one of my alma maters, Princeton or Harvard?! ;)