“They got a name for the winners in the world, I want a name when I lose,
They call Alabama the Crimson Tide, call me Deacon Blues”
Steely Dan
They say history is written by winners. That idea is commonly attributed to Winston Churchill, although a 2019 Slate article suggests that similar sentiments have been expressed by historical losers ranging from Robespierre to Herman Goering.
I have always been more drawn to the losers, those who finish fourth in the Olympic event and just miss a medal, or just miss making the Olympic team after devoting years to the quest for a gold medal. I commiserate with those beaten out for a scientific breakthrough or invention because a competitor had more funding or published first.
I know their pain all too well. I know what it’s like to put your all into something and find out it’s not good enough. My moment of failure and disappointment came in my quest to find the perfect parenting metaphor.
In the late 1990s it became clear that there was a changing dynamic in the behavior of parents. I labelled the new generation of parents as the “high maintenance parent,” and was part of several conference panels on that topic and using that language. But it took going to Disney World to confirm that I was on to something.
My Disney epiphany didn’t come from seeing Mickey assaulted by frantic parents demanding a picture or autograph for their three-year-old, nor did I witness a fight when someone tried to cut in line for Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride. It came during a professional conference held at Disney World in February of 1999.
The conference was a joint meeting of the Middle States and Southern regions of the College Board. My session on “Working with the High Maintenance Parent” was scheduled for 3:30 p.m. on Friday afternoon, a time slot suggesting that the conference schedulers didn’t see the topic as much of a draw. It was also 75 degrees and sunny outside. Those of us on the panel prepared for an empty room, because we would have picked enjoying the weather over the session ourselves. At 3:30 we were shocked that the room was packed. Before we had even finished our introductory remarks, the audience hijacked the session and a lively, passionate discussion broke out. We had touched a nerve.
Unfortunately “High-Maintenance Parent” ended up losing out in the marketplace of ideas to “Helicopter Parent,” a metaphor with a better visual. I became Elisha Gray losing out to Alexander Graham Bell, Netscape Navigator losing out to Internet Explorer, MySpace losing out to Facebook. Call me Deacon Blues.
I have since been fascinated by parenting metaphors. Most, but not all, fall into two categories.
The first category is machine-based metaphors. In addition to the helicopter parent, so named for the ability and tendency to hover, there is the “stealth bomber” parent, who lurks in the background then swoops in to attack when their child doesn’t get the lead in the play. Then we have “snowplow” parents, also called “lawnmower” or “bulldozer” parents, who attempt to clear a path forcefully to remove all obstacles and prevent their children from experiencing adversity, struggle, and disappointment.
The second category of parenting metaphor revolves around animals. The best known is the “tiger” parent, more often than not the tiger mom. This parenting style resembles the stereotypical stage mother driven for their children to make it in show business. At the other end of the spectrum are “jellyfish” parents, who lack backbone, have few rules and expectations, and avoid confrontation. In between those two extremes we have “elephant” parents, who may like peanuts and never forget, but are nurturing, protective, and more concerned with child’s well-being than success. We also have “dolphin” parents, who are firm but flexible. They have rules and expectations for their children, but parent by being role models.
There are other parenting metaphors that don’t fit into either category. There are the “lighthouse” parents, who strive to be beacons of light for their children to follow, showing the way and protecting them from crashing into the rocks.
Then there are “free-range” parents, or what when I was growing up would have been called simply “parents.” Free-range parenting is a throwback to the 1950s, when children left the house early in the morning and didn’t return until dinner time, and were unsupervised by adults the whole time. Free-range parents can be seen by other parents as negligent, and there are examples of neighbors calling the police when free-range parents allow their children to walk to the store by themselves.
The newest addition to the list is the “Operation Varsity Blues” parent, named for the parents involved in the 2019 admission scandal, who were willing to go to any lengths to obtain admission at prestigious colleges, from hiring stand-ins to take the SAT and ACT to bribing coaches to falsifying student credentials and accomplishments. Those parents were spoofed in an episode of the Simpsons, which had one such parent going to “photoshopping camp” as a means of getting her child into the University of Southern California.
Finally, we have my favorite parenting metaphor, one that is particularly relevant right now during the Winter Olympics. It is the “curling” parent, named for the winter sport that resembles bocce ball or shuffleboard on ice. Curling is the Rodney Dangerfield of Winter Olympic sports, in that it doesn’t get any respect. In the past week I have heard several different commentators either question curling as a sport or complain that during the Winter Olympics curling, like Law and Order reruns, seems to always be on TV.
Curling parents, like the sweepers in curling, move ahead sweeping away all impediments. Curling parents are thus not all that different from snowplow or lawnmower parents, but the curling metaphor is more fun. I wish I had come up with it.
So which parenting metaphor best captures your parenting style? And what kind of parent do you wish you were?
It is worth thinking about curling parents (as well as the other metaphors for parenting) not only because we are in the midst of the Winter Olympics, but also because we are in the midst of the college admission season. Parents of seniors are fairly far along in that journey, while parents of juniors and younger students are early in the process.
I firmly believe that the college process is harder on parents than it is on students. That is true for several reasons.
First is the existential challenge of being a parent. I learned early on that I derive far more pleasure from my children’s successes, and feel more pain from their disappointments, than anything that has happened in my own life.
That is entirely normal. Where it crosses the line is when parents live vicariously through their children. In the college admissions process it is easy to confuse what is best for your child with your own desire for status. Taken to extremes, the college your child attends can become a measure of your success as a parent.
There are other factors at work as well.
The college process can be your last chance to influence your child’s future in a significant way. You will never have the same role and influence once they leave home.
It is also the case that the tables may turn in our relationship with our children during the college process. They now exercise power over us by controlling information and communication, and for many of them non-communication can be an art form. They may also have learned to manipulate us and push our buttons. I have heard numerous parents during the college process express a similar sentiment about their children —“They think we’re stupid.” No, they don’t, but they’re certainly happy to let us believe that. And that may actually be their job as they transition into becoming their own person.
That last phrase, “their own person,” is important. The college search is an important developmental step on the journey from adolescent to adult, and where our children end up in college should be their choice (so they can’t blame us for the choice) and their victory. The adults in their lives, both parents and counselors, should be support personnel, trail guides.
I recently read an interview with Rick Bischoff, the new senior vice president for enrollment management at Chapman University in California after a long tenure at Case Western Reserve. He was asked about his approach to the admissions process as a parent, and he stated that he and his wife (a respected college counselor) stayed out of it. They set parameters about cost and then let their son do his thing. They trusted their child to be able to handle the process while being readily available to help if needed. That’s a good model for all of us.
How can you best support your child’s journey? First, recognize the warning signs of parental college admission overinvolvement. One early sign is excessive use of the word “we,” as in “we’re applying to.” I know better, and yet I’ve fallen into that trap. If you find that all of your conversations with other parents are about college, that’s not good. And if you find yourself spending hours late at night on College Confidential or photoshopping your child’s head onto an internet photo of an athlete in a sport your child doesn’t play, seek help immediately.
Here are some tips on avoiding becoming “that” parent and supporting your child:
Focus on helping your son or daughter figure out who they are and what they care about.
Cultivate ownership and responsibility. Let them take care of business whenever possible. They should be fully capable of asking for transcripts, registering for tests, and even scheduling college visits. Don’t enable them by doing things just because it’s easier.
Schedule an agreed-upon time when you will discuss college, and stick to that. You may get a glimpse into your child’s mind if you catch them off-guard during unscripted times in the car or while doing something together, but otherwise don’t bring up college except during the negotiated time.
Be an asker of questions rather than a provider of answers. (That may be hard.)
Recognize that you may be a source of stress. Your children want to please you and make you proud. If you are uptight about college, they’ll sense it and will be uptight.
Practice informed consent. Don’t give your consent until you are informed. In thewords of the Russian proverb borrowed by Ronald Reagan, “Trust but verify.”
Don’t believe all the Suburban Legends you hear.
Focus on what you control rather than worrying about what you don’t.
Don’t let college admission get in the way of your relationship with your child. It’snot worth it.
Above all, let them know that you love them and are proud of who they are. Learn from the wisdom of a parent who said at the end of her son’s senior year in highschool, “I wish I had appreciated who my son is rather than focus on what he is not.”
Regardless of whether you prefer the University of Alabama or Wake Forest educationally or athletically, as a parent you want to be the Crimson Tide and not Deacon Blues.