Unlocking the Secrets of Successful Studying

My first memory of ever studying was in grade school. Like most students I know, including my own children, I’d receive a weekly spelling list. I’d take the words home and study on Thursday night by “looking” at the words and having either my sister or my mom read them aloud to me, so I could spew back the correct spellings. Fortunately for me, I was predominantly a visual learner, so my early success on spelling tests gave me confidence that I had a knack for school, even if it was no indicator whatsoever.

As the words became more challenging, I would write and rewrite the words to build my muscle memory, adding a kinesthetic layer of studying to back up my visual skills. I do not recall that anyone made this suggestion to me. Instead, I believe that I gradually deduced through an observation of others and through a growing awareness of my own needs that this practice might help. It did. I continued with success on my spelling lessons.

Despite breezing through middle school without too much challenge, I was in for a rude awakening as the coursework became more rigorous in high school. When I faced a subject that was less intuitive for me, such as chemistry, I had to scramble to adapt. I learned to lean on friends with an interest in these subjects, and building on my grade-school study skills, I would write everything down like a crazy person, so I could “play back” the teacher’s lectures at home.

In time, I realized that I was exerting far more energy than necessary in terms of my notetaking, and I, thankfully, was mature enough, invested in my school subjects and performance, to adapt. I tweaked my skills with each assessment to find a successful path and to become a more consummate learner.

Today, many parents seek my support and share, often with embarrassment, that their children, despite performing excellently in school and despite being very bright, do not know how to study. These children are not alone. They are following in my footsteps and in the footsteps of so many others, only the stakes “seem” greater and the pace “feels” faster. A few changes in recent years have heightened our concerns about our children’s inability to study.

We are pushing AP coursework, which demands more developed study habits, at an increasingly younger age, so the pressure to enroll in these courses has risen, even though our children may have no apparent interest in the offered subject matters. Historically, many of my tenth grade students enrolled in at most one or two AP classes, and always “softer” APs, such AP Psychology, a subject that is immensely relatable and vocabulary intensive, lending itself to easier studying. I always understood why some sophomores would seek out AP Psychology.

Recently, the public schools have added AP Government and Politics as an optional history choice for sophomores. While AP GoPo, as it is affectionately called, is frequently considered a relatable AP course, most tenth-grade students have not yet been exposed to or shown an interest in the subject matter. Political news is everywhere, but the current hot issues that plague our nation, such as gerrymandering and Supreme Court bias, are rarely the talking points of fifteen-year old students, and the vocabulary alone can strip these students of their confidence. Moreover, the mean score on the AP Government exam is notoriously low.

Meanwhile, underclassmen are also enrolling in pre-AP coursework, such as pre-AP English, which, frankly, does not seem very different from its counterparts, yet these pre-AP courses carry with them the “expectation” that students will pursue AP coursework the following year in that subject matter, again adding to the pressure culture.

Technology has had both positive and negative effects on our children’s study skills, too. On the one hand, students have access to incredible study tools and endless information. In some ways, studying has never been easier; however, this information overload, along with the pandemic and online schooling, has served to make our children more passive learners. They are often burnt out and have had access to so many shortcuts that they have not developed the work ethic or the motivation to put in the hard work required.

An underpaid teaching staff has compounded an already challenging issue. Low pay attracts low quality. While there are many strong teachers, schools are having a hard time snagging and keeping them with low salaries. The limited pay and large class numbers also dampen the teachers’ spirits. Many of these teachers are now taking shortcuts in teaching by using online lessons and homework assignments that lack the needed personal touch.

And the pressure of college admissions still looms.

Ultimately, many parents fear that their children do not have time to learn study skills through trial and error in this climate, which is why they seek my support.

As parents, you should know that children need to engage in active learning. “Looking over notes” will likely never suffice in preparing for a high school math assessment or for an assessment in other challenging coursework. You should be aware of whether teachers are inspiring and resonating with your children, and you should stand by, if you can, to help them troubleshoot their studying pitfalls. If you seek out my support or the support of others, know that the best possible academic coach should identify your children’s weaknesses and then give them the tools and skills that they need, so they can do the “heavy lifting” themselves. There are no real shortcuts to becoming a better student, nor would we want there to be. Success should require hard work.

Setting New Year's Resolutions and Finding a Sense of Purpose

            I have always enjoyed goal setting, so the New Year, which brings with it the tradition of setting New Year’s resolutions, presents a great opportunity for me. I invariably have a resolution or two on which I focus, setting my intentions for the new year. I, like most folks, may only stick with these resolutions for a month or two, but just a month or two, if not longer, of working toward a goal is, I believe, of value. After all, most adults would benefit from a month or two of consistent exercise, a more nutritional diet, and/or reduced alcohol intake. This year, as one of my resolutions, I have dedicated myself to playing the piano more consistently, hoping for steady improvement in my lifelong hobby.

            Working with a sense of purpose toward a goal has tangible benefits. Making that goal public, at least to family and friends, holds us accountable. I’m hoping that by sharing my goal here, I will adhere to it a little longer than usual and possibly throughout the year.

With the start of a new semester for our high school students, they too would benefit from a sense of purpose. Indeed, a sense of purpose is, sadly, what I see missing in so many of our children. They are working, often aimlessly, toward straight A’s in coursework with which they have little connection. Seemingly forced to enroll in AP Language, when they neither read nor write on a regular basis, or in AP Physics, when they have never before shown curiosity about how a machine works, these students muddle through their coursework, sometimes miserably, striving only to improve their grade point average throughout the year. They sometimes spend more time calculating what grade they “need” on the unit test to preserve that A than they do on exploring with a fervor the unit’s topics. How tragic this predicament is! They are failing to appreciate and to realize the luxury they have in pursuing an education, something to which so many children across the world do not have access, and they are often failing to identify their own curiosities.

            A sense of purpose is energizing. In a world where we all seem to be experiencing post-pandemic fatigue, energy is a much-needed and welcome attribute. It can help us get out of bed each morning with vigor, embrace personal relationships, and strive to make the most of precious time.

            Moreover, chunking our work into more tangible smaller goals can help calm students when facing long-term projects, huge unit tests, or overwhelming to-do lists. With a sense of purpose and more specific goals in mind, students can better prioritize work.

            Importantly, not all goals need to be academic goals. Much like my own shared goal here, personal interests can and should lead to goals that feed our spirits. Any steps we can take to be more intentional about how we are spending our time are, in my opinion, welcome steps.

            It’s not too late to set those New Year’s resolutions, so I hope that you will set them tonight at the dinner table and pass them along to me. I’d love to hear from you. Let’s go score some goals!

Preserving Our Children’s Choices and Embracing Well Roundedness

For years now, as parents, we have received messages about guiding our children toward a passion when so many of our children seem truly passionless. The occasional perceptive student is highly driven to a cause or zealously pursues an off-kilter interest, but let’s face it, most of our children are less driven. They often cannot answer the question, “Which club would you like to join this year?” without consulting a friend or a parent. Finding a “passion” for them, therefore, seems like an impossibility.

I believe our pursuit of a singular all-in passion for our high school students was borne in the highly selective admissions practices of Ivy League institutions. Admissions committees for these schools have made it well known that they want to assemble a well-rounded class, which consequently is not comprised of well-rounded students. Instead, a well-rounded class means that, typically, an Ivy-League school will admit the very best tuba player, actor, chemist, and author who applies alongside stellar academic credentials in an effort to assemble a class of diverse, immensely talented, and (many) strangely quirky students. Parents, often hesitant to concede that their children may not be among this select and incredibly small group, are usually not deterred from trying to secure these slots and frequently plot a path to foster admissibility.

If, as parents, we are sitting at the dinner table with our children trying to brainstorm what activity or topic exists in which our young teen may have an interest and for which our teen may have great potential, such that he or she could conceivably “use” that interest to serve as an admission ticket to Harvard, well, that time and money will likely be wasted. I am not saying that an Ivy League admission is never earned in this way, but I am saying that it would truly be a very expensive lottery ticket.

These discussions about developing our children’s passions no longer apply just to Ivy League schools. The pursuit of a passion has now trickled down to other highly selective colleges, state universities among them, the likes of UVA, UNC, and UGA locally. Pursuing activities that will distinguish students from their classmates has often become the foundation for our children’s choices (which wrongly presumes that they are our children’s choices from the start when, in all likelihood, such decisions are often guided by a parent or counselor).

When I was young, my parents gave me the opportunity to pursue lots of activities without redirecting me. They enabled me to prove myself on the dance floor, to fumble the ball on the softball field, and to experience growth in sports that clearly were not natural fits for me. Because they were unaware of any college admissions stakes, they did not second guess my choices and allowed me the freedom to develop my own interests.

Part of the reason today’s children are so indecisive is because our society has made them question their decisions – which choice will distinguish me from my classmates? Parental advice on such matters is frequently steeped in judgment.

While I believe that students are best served to have multiple pursuits, whether they are joining a sports team, taking music lessons, or donating their time to service or whether they are obsessively mastering a personal pursuit, such as woodworking or ornithology, the choices our children make are less important than the self-discoveries made in the process, especially in today’s shifting educational landscape. While consistency in an activity is a bonus on a college application, making intentional choices to change activities midway through high school can lead to important lessons, too, and the accompanying learning lessons can make strong college essays. More importantly, though, these choices can help our children better understand themselves and prepare them for adulthood.

Well roundedness produces children who become insightful, sophisticated adults, adults who can move through crowds comfortably and who can adapt to different environments. The choice between pursuing a singular activity with complete dedication and enthusiasm versus trying a variety of activities to find oneself should be just that – a choice.

I was lucky enough to make that choice on my own as a high school student. I was the student who did not know until I had to declare what my college major would be. I had a string of activities listed under my high school senior picture, and I relish the memories of pushing myself to participate in a wide variety of sports, clubs, and jobs. I was emphatically denied by the Ivy League institution to which I applied, but I have no regrets about the way I spent my high school extracurricular time.

Banning Cell Phones in Our Classrooms

Recently, I was cleaning out papers in my house and came across an endearing note from my son who was seventeen years old at the time. In the note, he had applied his AP Language rhetorical skills and constructed an argument for his father and me about why he “needed” a smartphone.

At the time, circa 2012, believe it or not, he had a flip phone. Smartphones became the norm around 2012 or 2013. He contended that he was literally the only student in his grade who still had a flip phone. I think he may have been correct. Perhaps we, as parents, were overly protective, but having the world at one’s fingertips is, well, distracting.

Ten years later, we see just how distracting the smartphone has become, and now there is pushback in some school systems. Some schools are now banning cellphones. Rarely, in my opinion, is Florida on the cutting edge of education – they are self-declared anti-progressives -  but Florida may just have gotten it right this time.

Our impressionable young adults seem to be collecting their values from their cellphones now, notably TikTok, which is run by China, and Twitter, rather than from their parents, and the results are scary. Much of the rise in antisemitism on college campuses can be attributed to misinformation spread on social media.

Earlier this year, I shared my view that our high school students are not ready to learn to hone the powers of ChatGPT, countering the argument I hear often from teachers, that high school students need to learn how to leverage AI platforms to their advantage. Instead, I suggest that such mastery occur in college or even graduate school, not in high school, where students must first obtain and polish critical thinking and studying skills. I believe that position could well be extended to the use of smart phones by teens.

I understand that many parents may find banning cellphones in schools highly inconvenient and even barbaric. As parents, we would not be able to track our children 24/7, no sarcasm intended. In an age when a school shooting could break out at any time, the inability to track much less text with our children may be unfathomable. Yet, on the upside, cellphone bans reportedly reduce incidents of bullying, improve student engagement, and increase learning.

I concede that we do not want to curtail our children’s ultimate understanding of the power and breadth of technology. After all, our future will likely be driven by technology. Similar to  artificial intelligence, though, I believe our children would be well served to cross a few thresholds before diving deeply into the technology, namely establishing personal values, under their parents’ nurturing eyes, and learning how to read and think critically. Thereafter, these more mature students can proceed with caution. In other words, using technology and accessing social media is a question of maturity – it’s developmental – and while some children mature more quickly than others, teachers and school systems should establish rules about when students should have unlimited access to such technology in the classroom.

Imagine if when we were young students, we walked into the classroom with a teacher’s edition of the text with all of the answers to the day’s questions accessible at our fingertips. Imagine if we also had the capability of passing a note simultaneously to all of our classmates taunting, maybe even bullying, one student among us. Our past teachers would never have allowed such a farcical situation. Why then are we allowing it in today’s classrooms?

Easing the Anxiety Pandemic

            My goal as an academic coach is to give my high school students a broader, more informed perspective. I strive to help students find life-school balance. I help them realize, for example, the connections among physical fitness, consistent sleep, and a sharp mind. I build their self-awareness about their own academic interests, their learning needs, their organizational skills, and their study habits. I also wade through homework assignments alongside students to identify the teachers’ goals, to ensure thorough completion, and to assess within the assignments where students are most apt to falter.

            In recent years, though, I have watched my interactions with students lean increasingly toward therapy. Although I am not a therapist, I find myself spending more time reminding students of their strengths, boosting their self-image, and instilling renewed confidence. I make recommendations to them about how to handle interactions with teachers, parents, and friends. And I calm their nerves. Test anxiety, social anxiety, and a lack of confidence are so prevalent among today’s high schoolers that my primary job has often become to help my students relax first. They must relax in order to be ready to learn, and then I help them find ways to optimize their high school experiences.

            I have tried to pinpoint why we face on the heels of the COVID pandemic a new pandemic, a pandemic of anxiety. I believe that today’s children are bombarded with societal and parental expectations, so much so that they can do little more than move robotically, at times, from assignment to assignment and from test to activity. I also believe that a certain amount of cynicism exists toward education today that undermines the school experience. Students and parents question assignments, grades, and curricula, which derails the system and which causes students to question the value of their assignments and the need to take assignments seriously. Such uncertainty can add to anxiety and detachment and result in a lack of focus and discipline. The levels of anxiety I observe should not exist, in my opinion, in the absence of homelessness, abuse, or food scarcity, but they do.

If it takes a village to raise a child, our village is failing our children by disseminating negativity, prioritizing social media platforms, and demanding unrealistic expectations - that every student earn straight A’s and attend an esteemed university. Most of the children with whom I work seem weighed down by the pressures that they put on themselves (due to societal expectations), but they are also reading subtle but constant parental cues to determine what we deem important, too.

            While I believe in setting a high bar for our children, in these times, our children would benefit greatly if we as parents exercise some restraint and focus instead on role modeling. If we want for our children, as surveys suggest, ultimate stability and job satisfaction, we need to model stability and job satisfaction and model setting high but reasonable expectations for ourselves. And if we want to calm our children’s fears, we should care less about our social media presence and especially less about posting accomplishments. Our pride over familial accomplishments will mean more to them if it is celebrated quietly within our own homes. We should parent our children by emphasizing values, such as discipline, compassion, resilience, and integrity, instead of accomplishments.

We need to preserve our children’s childhood, so that they do not feel critiqued 24/7. By focusing more on our own lives and by freeing ourselves from social media, we can demonstrate the healthy lifestyles we want for our children.

Let’s loosen the reins just enough, so our children can gain the confidence they need to leave our nest and to spread their wings. We may be making this parenting thing harder than it needs to be.

Parenting in the Age of AI: Guiding High School Students Towards Integrity

* This is my second installment of two in my “Learning to Learn” series for the return to school.

“Character is doing the right thing, even when no one is watching,” a quote that has been attributed to multiple sources, some of biblical origins. If we could all adhere to this commandment, I believe that the world would be a much better place. Unfortunately, though, the world is filled with temptations, so straying from the “right thing” is often far too easy. Knowing what the “right thing” is can be confusing too because, depending on the source, we may receive conflicting directions. Every issue today seems polarizing.

As parents, we struggle with knowing what is the right thing to do as we raise our children. We are pushed more than ever before to ensure the happiness of our children. Accordingly, we enable them at times, become their friends rather than their mentors, and even sacrifice our own values due to societal pressures.  We are inclined to feel sorry for our children, who, as products of the pandemic, have had a difficult educational journey. No doubt, our high school children face uncertain futures in many ways, and their pressures may seem to be mounting (or possibly their resilience is underdeveloped). Naturally, we want to make their paths easier. But at what costs?

Our children are watching us closely and taking notes based on our lead, so we must step up and take responsibility, modeling the values that we hold dear. And this year will be a particularly critical year for such modeling, in my estimation. During this academic year, most high school students will be aware of the opportunity to cheat on almost every single school assignment by accessing ChatGPT or similar alternatives, and our children might not perceive doing so to be “cheating.”

The web is flooded with articles that convince parents and students that knowing how to leverage AI (a technical misnomer for these services but a readily-accepted label) is essential to optimizing learning. I disagree when it comes to high school students. Most high school students are too immature to be able to distinguish between acceptable uses of AI and unethical uses of AI, and the slope is ever so slippery.

High school students are using these platforms to solve math problems, to translate foreign language passages, to answer short answer questions, and to write term papers. They are using AI platforms to develop creative project ideas and to respond to take-home exams. They are using them to write college essays, too. The dangers of using AI in high school are monumental. Our students are developing a reliance on these AI tools, much as we have developed a reliance on Waze for directions or on Google for general daily information retrieval. In the process, our high school students are sacrificing a solid educational foundation for short-term results and are misrepresenting their abilities. They are simultaneously eroding their own self-confidence and motivation to learn. They are demonstrating a complete lack of character in order to secure higher grades, and they are doing so, often blatantly, because they believe that what they are doing is acceptable. 

AI detectors are still under development, and teachers are overextended and unlikely to catch transgressors. Any teacher who is willing and able to spend the time trying to subvert students’ misuse of AI, though, could likely do so. The discrepancy between the work produced by AI and the general high schooler’s understanding of concepts is usually significant. However, the educational system is overtaxed, so the burden of ensuring that students “do what is right” must fall on the shoulders of those with the most to lose: the parents.

Now is the time to have open discussions about these platforms at the dinner table. Now is the time to read your children’s essays. Now is the time to make ever so clear our expectations for our children. Right now, our high school students must learn how to learn. If they bypass this crucial skill development, they will likely fail to launch.

I’m still clinging to the belief that cheaters never win. These students will likely be “caught” eventually. If our students never learn to think creatively, to write proficiently, and to apply critical reasoning skills – all independently – then, they will lose self-respect and character, and they will lose genuine access to higher education.

Mastering the Art of Learning in a Fast-Paced World

 * This is the first installment of two in my “Learning to Learn” series for the start of school.      

     Like many students, I remember sailing through the early grades without needing to study much. I am a visual learner, which facilitated my ability to memorize spelling words and terms. When I reached high school, though, I had to regain my footing: I had to invest more time in studying elevated concepts, especially in order to respond to challenging essay questions. I made a few missteps along the way, and my mistakes helped me hone my study skills. In time, I became a more confident and capable learner.

Parents and students today, though, generally have less tolerance for the gradual building of study skills. We live in a much faster paced world. Impatient students seek shortcuts, and technology offers many. We have now all grown accustomed to accessing technological shortcuts. Leveraging technology appropriately can eventually yield a stronger academician, but first . . .first, our children must learn how to learn, and unfortunately, true growth in academic competence requires patience, both from the students and from their parents.

As we face a new school year, a reminder of what is required to achieve optimum success in high school is warranted.

First and foremost, students must put in the hard work to learn the basic content of their coursework, which means that they must complete their homework in a meaningful way and that they must strive to gain a full understanding of its content, no short cuts allowed  - no copying answers from the internet or their friends, no joint completion of assignments, and no ChatGPT. Then, students must gradually learn how to apply their knowledge.

Parents and their children often complain to me when their children face a high school assessment that covers material that the teacher (allegedly) did not teach and that the textbook (if there even is one) did not address. Occasionally, these complaints are valid, and the teaching is subpar. More often, however, these parents and their children fail to understand that what the teachers are asking their students to do is to apply critical thinking skills. The teachers are knowingly giving the students a question that they have never before seen in order to evaluate how well the students can reply to the question based on what they have learned.

            As parents, we have faced many unknown situations independently, without Google and without receiving prior instructions or guidance, whether as high school students or as adults (who cannot locate their phones). For me, these high priority dilemmas included in high school how to trim my accumulating post-pubescent weight, how to convince my parents to extend my curfew on prom night, and how to reengage the chain on my bicycle in the middle of my journey or, more recently, how to eliminate a stain from the sofa or how to make a recipe without a key ingredient. To address each of these predicaments, I gathered up all of the knowledge I had learned from prior experiences and developed a strategy. Sometimes I was successful; sometimes I faltered. Either way, I grew from these experiences.

            Today’s teenagers, though, are battling these daily crises with a constant resource in their pockets. They are not troubleshooting, developing strategies based on experience; instead, they are Googling. It’s no wonder then why our children may be less resilient and less prepared to become proficient learners. They are used to the quick fix.

            Learning is like Connecting the Dots. In order to realize the big picture, we can’t take shortcuts; we have to patiently connect each line, and we may even need our eraser.

            As an academic coach, I do not hasten the process as much as I make my students more aware of the context of their lessons, which helps them visualize the big picture perhaps a little faster but almost always in crisper detail. And I can accelerate the students’ understanding of how to successfully apply their newfound knowledge.

As we face the school year ahead, let’s instill in our children a hunger to learn without shortcuts and the patience to persevere. The world is spinning fast. We just need to slow down and enjoy the process.

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.