Sometimes, though, your gut will tell you this isn’t the right time for your child to quit entirely. Jenni Levy, a mother in Allentown, Pennsylvania, says that when her daughter wanted to quit dance in fifth grade, it felt wrong. “Our sense was that she was anxious about being ‘good enough.’ She tried to quit everything that year.” Levy and her husband didn’t push their daughter to keep up the level of dance she’d been doing (four or five classes a week), but told her she had to have at least three hours a week of physical activity. After a year with one hip-hop class and tennis lessons, their daughter went back to dance. “In August before sixth grade, she said, ‘I want to take ballet again’ and signed up for four classes, and that was that.” (She’s now dancing at a high school for the arts.)
Consider a different approach. Marjorie Ingall, a mother of two in New York City, says her husband finally let her daughter quit flute in fifth grade. “They fought about it a lot,” she says. But after her daughter quit, “she liked to noodle around on it, picking out songs, as long as no one pressured her. And she brought it to summer camp, where she jammed with friends. And then she got to high school, and suddenly there is jazz band! And two really great, supportive teachers! And tons of encouragement for noodling!” It was the Suzuki method their daughter hated, and the pressure from her parents. Now that it’s fun, she’s stuck with it.
Ellen Spirer Socal, a mother on Cape Cod, tells her own story. Her mother let her quit piano lessons, and she regrets it. “My teacher was very focused on the recitals and piano competitions. I was capable of playing just fine at home or during a lesson, but I froze up in front of an audience and was terrible at playing from memory,” she says. The night before a competition, with Ellen in tears, her mother called the teacher and said she wouldn’t be competing. “I never went back to piano lessons,” she says. “I wish someone had thought of getting me another teacher to learn to play for fun and not to ‘perform.’”
Music might be different. While I know many adults, myself included, who think we wish we hadn’t quit playing whatever we played, I suspect that what we really wish is that we knew how to play—without all the hours of practice and mastery entailed.
But it’s exactly those hours, and the resulting mastery, that makes some parents argue that music isn’t something a child can quit. Music, they say, doesn’t really become fun until you reach a certain level, and it’s unfair to a child not to let them get there. It’s also an education in itself. There’s a small but significant association between music study and academic achievement, and many music educators point to the ways reading music is akin to language learning and requires an understanding of mathematical patterns. For some families, music is mandatory.
“We said up front that everyone studies an instrument until he or she is eighteen,” says Sarah Stewart Taylor, a mother in Hartland, Vermont, whose three kids, now eleven, eight, and six, each started music at around four years old. “It’s just what we do. No questions asked. So whenever kids wanted to quit, I could always say, ‘Okay, you don’t want to play cello anymore. Which instrument do you want to take up?’ and they would always think about it and ultimately decide they didn’t want to have to start from scratch. Now they never talk about quitting because they’ve gotten to the point where they see progress and it’s fun or at least satisfying. But there were a lot of rough years when they were young, a lot of tears and shouted demands to quit,” she says. “The experience has kind of transformed our parenting though. ‘Because it’s just what we do’ is an answer I use for a lot of things now.”
When children whose families have made music a daily choice get older, at least some appreciate where their effort has led. Many switch instruments, armed with their solid basics; others apply the skill to choir, orchestra, or band and find themselves very at home. And, realistically, some parents who said the same thing as Taylor when children were younger find themselves allowing their teenagers to give up an instrument when it becomes clear that there simply isn’t enough time to fit it all in.
How do you know when that’s the right way to go? There’s no absolute knowing, and both sides have backers. If pushing your child is leading to great unhappiness for either of you, it’s time to either stop pushing or find a way to continue that leaves room for joy in the challenge. Decide what to do, then do it.
Accept the Gift of Failure
If your child dances, plays an instrument, or competes at anything from robotics to chess to sports, congratulations. You’ve just given them what Jessica Lahey calls “the gift of failure” in her book of the same name. Our society worries a lot about little kids getting participation trophies and being celebrated for “just showing up” in the name of self-esteem, but any parent of even a slightly older child who tries out for a spot on a team or an orchestra or signs up for a competition or audition knows that all of that ends very quickly.
To compete in anything is to risk losing, and your child will lose. She won’t make the team or get the solo. She’ll make a mistake that costs her the match. Her team will play hard but lose the game or the meet or the tournament. She will be sad. Will you?
You can be happy when your children aren’t. Realistically, yes, you will be unhappy. You’ll be disappointed for your child, and you’ll be right there with her in her own disappointment. But you’ll stay a whole lot happier if you keep your eye on the larger picture. Competition and disappointment are part of the package. Here is your activity- and sport-specific mantra: It is not my job to do anything. In fact, it is my job to do nothing. Hug your child, let her feel her pain, don’t try to push her past it, and, above all, don’t try to “fix” it—not if it’s a team tryout and you might be able to change the result, not if you think there really might be room for one more in the recital, not if you’ve got video on your cell phone and you’re sure you can convince the ref that that puck went in the net.
Ben Sasse, a former wrestler, the US Senator from Nebraska, and the son of a University of Nebraska wrestling and football coach, wrote about this form of failure on Facebook:
This is good scar tissue. The growth happening underneath these scars is precious, and will serve your son or daughter well. From this experience, your child will be able to acknowledge the success of others, even at personal cost. Your child will know what it means to work on a team to the benefit of others before self, what it means to take direction, to accept responsibilities, and to put forth their very best, leaving it all on the field/court/mat.
And your kids will know how to respond when even their best isn’t enough.
This is hard advice to follow. When my older son was in third grade and had been playing hockey for four years, he tried out for the next season and was placed on a team, exactly as he had the two previous years—except that it was the fourth of the four teams for his age group. The lowest team. The “red” team. It included at least one child who had never before played the game, and our son was, to say the least, crushed.
It pains me to admit it, but my husband, with my support, made at least one call (and maybe more). Really? Couldn’t our son, and the other young player who’d been on a more competitive team both of the preceding years, be moved up? Maybe they wouldn’t develop as well on this team! Maybe their spirits would be destroyed by this! Couldn’t we somehow fix it?
Fortunately, we couldn’t. Because if you ask my son, he’ll tell you what happened. He was bummed. He felt the failure in a big way. He cried, he cried some more, he abused himself and his abilities, out loud and surely in his head. He said he wouldn’t play, that he was done with hockey, this season and forever.
And then he had a great season with that team—one of the best he remembers, in terms of fun and locker room camaraderie and really enjoying the game. Maybe, for him and the other children on the coed team, there was something to be said for shifting gears and spending a season on a team where it really was all about learning and supportive teamsmanship and getting out there
and playing hard. Nobody expected them to win. It was enough that they played the game. Meanwhile, he worked—on his shot, his skating, his plays. He still didn’t succeed every time he tried out, but he’s now on his varsity high school team.
What you want now isn’t always what you want later. We all hope that our kids will learn something from their chosen sports and activities, and when it comes to sports, one lesson tends to be about losing. We want them to become resilient, learn to stay tough, and come back to play another game. That, more than ball-handling skills, is what we foresee them using when they’re our age and the chips aren’t falling their way. They can’t learn that if we don’t get out of the way.
Don’t Be That Parent
Once your child is on the ice, the court, or the stage, the rest happens without you. This, to me, is the most magical thing about sports and activities, especially when our children are young and demanding. You get them there, and, unless you’re a coach, the rest progresses regardless of what you do next. You can run an errand, or read a book, or answer emails. If you have another child with you, you can do something focused on that child.
Or you can watch, as many of us do, particularly if it’s a game. You can cheer from the sidelines or enjoy watching your child take (or resist) instruction from someone else. You can appreciate watching your child exist as a person in the world without you, a part of a class or a teaching pair, or a team that doesn’t involve or require you. And afterward, you can pass that appreciation on to your child, with words like “I love to watch you play” or “Class looked challenging but fun today.”
Stop there, and research shows you’re increasing the odds of happiness for both you and your child. Children enjoy sports more when their parents aren’t part of the pressure that’s a natural part of competition. Bruce E. Brown, who has coached in youth sports for more than thirty-five years and now runs a coaching consultancy with Rob Miller, asked hundreds of young athletes to answer the question “What’s the worst part of a game?” The answer they heard, again and again, might surprise you: the worst part of the game for many kids is the ride home.
Why? Because their parents have tips. They have commentary. They have “constructive criticism.” And they have the power to shift a game from a fun piece of a kid’s day to a disappointment and to make a kid feel as though her worth depends on her performance. Suddenly, it’s harder to bounce back after a loss or enjoy being a part of a win, and even harder to get back out there next time, try out for another team, or sign up for another season.
Ask a parent why he signed up a young child for a sport or activity, and you’ll hear all the right answers: we want them to learn something new, to explore, to have a chance to practice and improve, to play, dance, or sing with others, to be capable of getting out there and playing or performing or accepting a challenge on her own.
But as they get older, we often lose sight of the fact that the sport or activity is about your child’s growth, her learning, and her ability to be part of something. We want to jump in and make it the “best” experience, make sure she “gets the most out of it,” assess the teaching or the coaching or the playing time or the group or team placement. But none of that contributes to what you first hoped your child would gain here. When you put yourself front and center in your child’s experience, you take something away from your child.
If your involvement in your child’s activities is eroding your relationship, neither of you will be happy. Many children aren’t playing soccer or the violin with the goal of being the best, or even the best they can be. They’re doing it because they like it. They enjoy the game or the challenge or the music or the camaraderie. When it comes to sports, 90 percent of kids tell surveys that they would rather lose than not play, 71 percent would play even if no one were keeping score, and 37 percent dream of playing with no parents watching at all.
Happier parents make sports and activities a source of joy and pleasure for their kids by behaving like supportive parents, not demanding coaches or crazed fans. Know why your child loves what they do, and keep your attention on supporting that love. Before the performance or the game, remind your child to have fun. Afterward, tell her you enjoyed it and that you hope she did, too.
Respect That They’re Not You
It can be difficult to let a child quit something you yourself love. “Our daughter told us she wanted to quit travel hockey when she was twelve,” says Dori Gilels, a mother of two in Missoula, Montana. She plays hockey herself, along with her husband and son, and both kids started to play at four. “We really wanted her to continue, but she finally had the courage to tell us she didn’t love the sport as much as we did.”
Neil Lloyd, a father of two in Chicago, has been a musician all his life (although he’s a lawyer by day). His children, now sixteen and fourteen, started lessons early, but never fell in love. His daughter stopped playing the viola at twelve; her brother does the minimum to fill his school’s music requirement. “As a musician, it was kind of heartbreaking,” he says. “I tried saying things like, ‘If you stick with it just a little longer, you’ll have it for the rest of your life.’” For now, it looks as though his passion won’t be shared, except that his daughter just joined an African drumming group. “We’ll see,” he says.
Protect Your Family Values
Where do your child’s sports and activities fit within the spectrum of what’s important in your family? When extracurriculars conflict with family relationships, traditions, religious practices, or important values, what choice will you make for your children when they’re young, and how will you guide their choices as they get older?
Friends of ours whose two youngest sons played hockey with our older son keep the Sabbath, observing quiet and family time from sundown on Friday through sundown on Saturday as part of their Christian religious practice. That’s twenty-four hours during which hockey is often played (among many other things), making theirs a difficult choice as their four sons got older.
Conventional wisdom would suggest that those boys might have found themselves on less competitive teams, or at the end of the lineup, because of that family observance. Sometimes they did. One son was excluded from the invitational pre- and post-season tournaments by his coach. Sometimes they found themselves on teams with coaches who did accommodate them, but made it clear that they were annoyed and unhappy about it. And sometimes things went right. When the family moved to New Hampshire, two of their sons tried out for the high school’s varsity hockey team.
Before the team placement decisions were made, says mom Rebecca Goff, her son Matthew went to the coach with his freshman brother by his side “and told him they wouldn’t be able to play in any Saturday games.”
“We tried to be very respectful,” said Matthew Goff, the older of the two and now a student at Dartmouth. “I think we both knew there was a distinct chance that expressing our belief might mean we didn’t make the team.”
The coach (who is now my older son’s coach) put both boys on varsity and then moved all the home games to times after sundown on Saturday (not unusual for high school, when games are often in the evening). “The following year he not only scheduled home games later on Saturdays but also asked the away game coaches to schedule their Saturday games for after sundown,” Rebecca Goff said. The practice continues for their youngest son, who made the team as a sophomore.
The prevailing norm in many communities is that children’s activities take precedence over all else. “Important” games or competitions are scheduled on Fridays, requiring children to miss school and parents to miss work. Tryouts and auditions are declared “no excuses”—skip the family reunion or Bat Mitzvah, or the spot will be taken by someone else who will. And there is no spring break in athletics, often even when school policies say otherwise.
But parents and older children can still make choices, and your choices don’t have to be the same as those of the people around you. You do you i
s a lighthearted mantra, but it’s also a very important one. If something about a child’s sport or activity intrudes on something else important, it’s time to speak up. You may find that once you say no to any practice scheduled to go on long past bedtime, others agree and things are changed. Or your decision might be accepted without comment. Or you might find your child or family excluded from some things.
All of those results are fine if you’ve made the choice that works for you and your family. Three Goff boys attend or have been accepted into excellent colleges. The fourth is a successful high school student. More importantly, they’re a strong and connected family, with young adults now making their own choices about how their values affect their lives—the kinds of choices all of our children will face one day.
“I have often had people ask how I am able to take an entire twenty-four-hour period off and get everything done and not stress out about it,” Matthew Goff, now a student at Dartmouth College, told me in an email. “In response, I have always told them setting aside the Sabbath every week is exactly what gives me the sanity to get everything done in the first place.”
How to Be a Happier Parent: Raising a Family, Having a Life, and Loving (Almost) Every Minute Page 12