Raising Kids Who Take Risks

Sometimes I feel like life is just like waiting to be chosen for the 5th grade dodgeball team.

See me. Choose me. Want me.

Always proving our worth. Always looking for validation. From the outside. It didn’t start with social media, although that hasn’t helped.

You know when this starts?

Very young. I wonder if this is how we fundamentally fail kids at an early age. Making them believe they have to fit in. Making them believe achievement is super important to success. And that success is only real if it’s measurable.

Now I’m not saying competition isn’t healthy or good. It has its merits for sure. But we don’t work hard enough on the internal stuff with kids—messages like failing is good. Or, it’s good if not everyone chooses you—it means you’re being you, and not everyone will like you. That’s sacred. That SHOULD be sacred. It’s not.

We need to make space for that. We need to have those conversations more often.

I remember the disappointment and the mean girl stuff. I wish I’d known how to not internalize that as my fault (but hell, sometimes it WAS me, and a “hey Laurie, you’re being a dick,” was appropriate). Sometimes it really wasn’t me. It’s hard to know the difference when you’re figuring out who you are as a kid. Or, as an adult going through major life changes, too.

We work so hard to solve our children’s problems, while often not asking the right questions~

How were you brave today?

How were you kind today?

How did you fail today?

I haven’t told my boys many achievement stories. The only “award” I ever left on display was the Ethics Award I received in high school. I wanted them to get early on how much character matters.

My son found my Senior Memory book one day, and after reading through it, informed me that I’d “really underachieved.” That might have simultaneously been the best and worst compliment I’ve ever received;) Clearly he was impressed and confused. But I explained to him that I don’t measure my success in dollars—I measure it in lives impacted and changed. I’m not sure I can think any other way at this point.

After he said that, I felt a little bit like I’d failed in helping him understand something so important to me, and yet, this concept is imbedded in our school system too—joining, fitting in, achievement.

Preschools place so much emphasis on getting along. And of course I think that’s important. But for the love of God, not every little kid that hits or bites needs therapy. I wonder if we are conforming all originality and personality out of them sometimes. Yes, social skills are important, but so is standing up for yourself.

What we should be doing is teaching them how to identify and express their feelings. Teaching them that their uniqueness, their originality, makes them special, and not their ability to fit in. To conform. To blend.

It’s no wonder we spend the rest of our lives trying to be SEEN. We were never seen from day one. I mean maybe, if we were lucky and had parents who got that. Who validated our uniqueness. But I still felt more seen for my achievement. For being “perfect.” Not just by parents, but by teachers, family members, friends. It’s a hard habit to give up once you’ve been so reinforced to do it.

We especially need to praise EFFORT and not outcome.

I’m glad I’m no longer on the sidelines silently waiting to be picked. The fear (of not being enough for someone else) will always be there. And really, the work is knowing it’s a GIFT when someone doesn’t “choose” you. And ”failure” is really just a lesson learned in how not to do something.

I still get a little whimsical when I see red rubber balls. I still throw groceries at my kids in the grocery store—they round the corner and take a package of bagels right in the face. If fitting in means growing up, being serious, following all of the “rules,” and not playing like a kid, I’ll choose outcast, happily.

Your conformity is killing your creativity.

Let that go.

Red

Rubber

Balls

and

Lots

of

Love,

Laurie