“…she explained that there was no tansy in the neighborhood with such snap to it as some that grew about the schoolhouse lot. Being scuffed down all the spring made it grow so much the better, like some folks that had it hard in their youth, and were bound to make the most of themselves before they died.”
-from “The Country of the Pointed Firs” by Sarah Orne Jewett
Many Americans have blind and unfounded confidence in giving children a “good start” in life. What does that entail? Always “education,” always. There is perhaps no more prevalent preoccupation among the bourgeoisie than “education.” Whether by sending our children to fancy schools we are “educating” them is another question, but there is an undying conviction among involved parents that schools are of the utmost importance.
Then there are the trivialities that we seem to think are essential. People will explain as though completely rational that they will intentionally forego additional children because they want to throw appropriately lavish birthday parties. Who enjoys children’s birthday parties? The lead-up is somewhat fun, the planning can be exciting. But the idea of spending hundreds of dollars on a “venue” for a child’s birthday and countless hours on miscellany that will decompose slowly in a landfill is bizarre.
Of course, what people mean by a birthday party is the resounding affirmation that they love their child, a good and worthy goal. But it is unloving to pile material things and lofty expectations on a little child in the midst of an inappropriately extravagant social event celebrating said child for “being just who he is.”
Affirmation is important, but children are masters at detecting all that is hollow or saccharine. The child feted with phenomenal birthday parties and sent to exceptional schools will one day, if he is perceptive, shout into the abyss: “What is the point?” The great foundation we thought we were laying for the goal of “having a good career” comes up empty.
Steamrolling all obstacles—interpersonal, financial, existential—in order for the child to grow in what is now called “self-esteem” does a grave disservice. The person with towering self-esteem and a paucity of actual skills or anything approaching excellence is a ticking time bomb in the arena of reality.
What’s worse than being bad at everything? So-called success in the engine of schooling, the centerpiece of all that is worthy in our conventional conception of childhood.
Woe to the child who does well in school. Predisposed to follow tedious and often meaningless assignments to the end to be rewarded with arbitrary accolades and a false sense of importance, he leads a dull life. The child who excelled in the rigmarole of the classroom may sit stunned into silence when encountering genuine, curiosity-driven conversation of depth as an adult. Nothing in the confines of schooling prepared the child to be educated.
And what about those other adults who are capable of probing, passionate, interesting dialogue and living? More often than not, they tend to be the subpar students in conventional schooling. Like the tansy in Sarah Orne Jewett’s perceptive analogy, they were subtly berated for a lack of success, precisely the feedback necessary to contend in the school of virtue. The tansy “[b]eing scuffed down all the spring made it grow so much the better, like some folks that had it hard in their youth, and were bound to make the most of themselves before they died.”
Some children encounter horrific obstacles: absent or destructive parents, ill health, lack of beauty, war, and relentless primal fear. We should not impose any such suffering on our children in the name of helping them out. Rather, we should not stand in the way of a full education, age-appropriately introduced. The greatest gift we can give a child is maintaining innocence and growing in rich relationships with people of virtue. Teaching by example will give them a great start. Boring them into a stupor while trying to convince them they matter is not the “good start” they need.
On a final note, consider the conventional wisdom: Send your child to an elite university for the benefits of networking and personal development. Here your child will encounter all the future lawyers going to the Big 10, the future doctors slaving away in the chemistry lab, the future politicians cutting their teeth. Now, consider the people you know who attended an elite school. Some are exceptional and successful (in the full sense) people who are a credit to all who know them. These are, however, thus despite the limitations of their social attachments made in elite university settings, it sometimes seems. How many “accomplished” graduates of the ivory tower are crippled by self-doubt? Always dreaming up the next big idea but never executing? Hoarding beautiful things and notions but never able to draw out order amid all the grandiose visions? So consumed by complex interior disorders that they fail utterly to connect meaningfully with those around them?
And really, what is the point of an education in the true sense if it is not shared with others? The people who burst forth as the trampled tansy have a strong sense of self and reality to offer. Don’t worry about giving children a “good start” in life. The formula for joy is much simpler: close relationships, time outside, and time for wonder. We aim for a good life in eternity, not just the first 22 years.
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