I read a lot of articles from Academic websites, mostly because of my background. Although I haven't had sufficient time, you'll probably see a rant or an occasional rave from me concerning something I stumble across. This is one of those times.
Now and then, I read the "Mama PhD" column from Inside Higher Ed, which is basically a bevy of women discussing their parental experiences on the side of their academic career. One such woman, Susan O'Doherty, wrote a blog post last month about a "unique" experience that her son got himself tangled up into, which included the police. To make a long story short: her son and his friends were meeting periodically in Central Park where they supposedly were just "hanging out", free from parental supervision. At one such get-together, alcohol was involved, one kid got a little tipsy, threw a beer bottle over a fence, it hit a cop car, the cops ran towards them, they all hit the ground. It gets rather silly when her son, who was standing over by the side away from the group, runs over towards the group and the cops think he's going to assault an officer. /sigh....
All of this happened because Ms. O'Doherty did NOT want to be one of those dreaded, odious, noisome Helicopter Parents, or in her words, "those pathetic souls who hover so closely their kids never get to experience independence, and so they remain perpetual adolescents."
Such B.S.
Despite her ominous "don't let your kid go, moron" voice inside her head telling her it was a bad idea, she let her son go to an odd little party she instinctively knew was going to go wrong. But Heaven forbid she should seem, well, uncool.
I understand that having a son is probably different than supervising a daughter. Young women are far more prone to peer pressure, insecurity or simply enough muscle to beat off an assaulter to let them be on their own sometimes. I was an only child and if I, as a teenager, had mentioned to my Mom that was I going to a party on my own with a bunch of other kids in a darkened park, the answer would have been a swift "NO". Not because she didn't trust me (trust me, reader, she did), but if she didn't know the kids, I wasn't allowed to go. Why? It was better to be safe than sorry.
Granted, my situation is dramatically different than others, mostly because I was home-schooled and the bad experiences of middle and high-school were just things I read about in books. Peer pressure? I laughed. Drugs, alcohol, sex? Those were things I heard about from other parents or saw on CNN. I took allergy meds, drank tea and read Jane Austen. Being taunted? My quick-witted tongue shut them all up quickly and I could have cared less what my peers thought of me. So my experience of adolescence was decidedly sterile and I'm glad.
The point is, if you're not able to stand up and protect your kids from what they really shouldn't be getting into because you're afraid of being a "helicopter" then you're not thinking straight. Real Helicopter parents are those who squash their children's creativity by doing their work for them; squabbling with professors because the kid earned a B- and not a sterling A; or any kind of activity that leads your child to think that he or she simply cannot make intelligent decisions for themselves. However, if you're an adult with a brain and you know that your kid won't be making a good decision if placed in a certain situation, then you make that decision for them. That won't ground them into perpetual adolescence - that will keep them out of trouble and away from experiences that they will dread and regret for the rest of their lives. They will thank you later. They will also, erm, grow up. Drinking, getting high, getting pregnant, dropping out of school - that keeps you in a state of denial of what reality is as you fail to get a job, or pass a drug test or end up relying on welfare...or worse yet, fail to receive a college education...not the other way around.
This isn't very complicated, you know.
Stop being a wuss, Mommy and Daddy. Your kids need to graduate. Who else will be taking care of you in your old age? Hint: it won't be Barry.
:-)
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