London - To push or not to push? It’s one of parenting’s most enduring dilemmas.
I’m not talking about Caesareans - I’m talking about today’s competitive world of extra-curricular activities, or “how can I make my child better?” syndrome.
Whether we admit it or not, I reckon we all secretly harbour the belief that our offspring may turn out to be a genius — a Pulitzer prize winner, perhaps, or an Olympian.
Parents tackle this secret ambition in two ways. Some believe you can coax genius out of a child with a selection of activities ranging from musical to sporting, and enrol their youngster early on to unleash the talent they hope the child has.
Others do nothing more than send them to school, believing the markers of success are happy days and stress-free evenings. But could those little ones be missing out on the chance of winning that gold medal?
Most people want their child to live a life less ordinary. But how far one goes to make this happen is where the dilemma lies.
Personally, I have a rather slack attitude to childhood achievements, academic or otherwise. This might be because I am a time-poor, working parent who wants to be a mom, not a taxi driver ferrying them to clubs all the time.
Or it could be because I left school at 16 with no qualifications and no notable physical skills other than being able to rollerskate backwards, and life has turned out okay for me.
Either way, I have not gone down the push route.
In fact, I am a great believer in occasional “nothing time”, when our four children (aged between four and 13) are left to entertain themselves. We often enforce DIY Sundays, where the only rule is to get some fresh air at some point.
I am also a member of Team Quit: if they join a club and don’t like it, I don’t make them carry on.
This horrifies the push brigade, who demand their youngsters stick at everything.
But recently I have begun to understand the addictive joy of having a child who is good at something.
Last summer, during his “nothing time”, my nine-year-old son, Henry, taught himself gymnastics by watching YouTube videos.
We’d look into the garden and see him doing endless backflips on the grass. Another mom who witnessed it suggested I take him to a local gymnastics club.
Against all protocol, I finally turned up with him one evening a few weeks ago.
Two hours later, after seeing the extraordinary skill of all the other children in the gym - who were vastly superior to anything I have ever seen on Britain’s Got Talent - I apologised to the coach for bringing along a child who had learnt everything from dodgy internet videos.
The look on Henry’s face said: “When we get home, I am going to kill you.” But the coach surprised us. He said my son had a natural skill and, more importantly, a real passion for the sport. He was in the squad.
As I hadn’t looked into the club beforehand, I had no idea this council-run team is hugely successful in competitions across the UK and in Europe, and Henry was extremely lucky even to have got an audition that night.
He now goes four times a week for three hours at a time. It’s a tough commitment, but I can see how much he loves training.
Perhaps I should be more of a pushy parent, because without prompting from another mother I wouldn’t have given my bendy boy’s impressive no-handed cartwheels a second thought.
This is the paradox of parenting. Experts agree that when you push too hard, you risk your child rejecting the activity at which they excel.
But if you don’t push, they may miss out on being good at something that would build self-esteem and confidence - crucial life skills.
It’s all about how you measure success, isn’t it? Either way, it’s a maternal guilt-fest that requires tricky navigation and constant questioning of your own motives.
Early on in our gymnastics adventure (probably after whispers started of the England squad coming to coach Henry’s club) I began to mistakenly bask in the glow of having a successful child.
I gave in to the unforgivable temptation to show off during the competitive mom conversations I usually avoid.
I mentioned Henry’s newfound talent in a school-gate chat with a particularly ambitious mom.
“Maybe he’ll make it to the Olympics one day,” I said proudly.
“Or the circus,” she replied, before waltzing off.
Daily Mail
* Lorraine Candy is editor-in-chief of Elle magazine.