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I Won’t Mislead My Kids by Telling Them They Can Achieve ‘Anything’ by Julia Matthews
My daughter taps the microphone. “Are you watching?” she inquires.
“I’m watching,” I reply, taking a seat on the couch beside our Goldendoodle, both of us entranced as the karaoke app loads Idina Menzel’s “Let It Go” for the third time.
My middle-schooler shifts and beams with anticipation, and I’ll confess, for a fleeting moment, I allow myself to share in her hope. Perhaps she will nail it this time, and with dedication and practice, maybe one day she’ll fulfill her dream of becoming a celebrated singer.
She launches into the first line. My ears perk up. The dog adjusts his position at my feet. The chorus swells, and the dog exits the room. And my daughter? The wonderful, intelligent, kind, and capable light of my life? She gives it her all, hitting flat notes along the way.
“Was I good?” she asks, breathless and flushed.
It would be easier to tell a white lie. I’ve done it before.
“Mom, do you like this painting?”
“Like it? I love it.”
“Mom, aren’t those leaves cool?”
“Wow, those are the coolest leaves I’ve ever seen.”
Lying can boost a child’s confidence. It can even feel like a necessary part of parenting. But it can also be misleading. Just watch any season of American Idol, where you’ll find numerous hopefuls who are far from ready, and you’ll realize that honesty has its place too.
This moment feels like one of those times. My daughter is not merely singing for fun; she’s earnestly practicing for a potential Broadway audition. Knowing I’m her reflection and inner voice, I choose my words carefully: “It was pretty good.”
She looks at me intently. “Good enough to audition for The Voice?”
“I think you have to be 13 or older for that, right?” Even if that’s not accurate, it’s my way of sidestepping the conversation.
“You know what I mean. Good enough to be a celebrity?”
And there it is.
“Well,” I say, attempting a casual tone, “everyone has a unique talent. Your singing is good, but it might not be your unique talent. That doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy it, though.”
“So you’re saying it was horrible.”
Her sharp intellect may indeed be her greatest asset.
“No. I’m saying everyone excels at different things. To succeed as a singer, you need to be exceptional at singing.”
“Do you think if I take lessons, I could be exceptional?”
“Maybe,” I reply, wishing to believe again. I’ve read Malcolm Gladwell’s Outliers and know about the 10,000 hours needed for mastery.
Years ago, during our Mommy and Me music classes, our teacher—a free-spirited woman reminiscent of the 1960s—shared a similar view. After decades of working with kids, she concluded that no child is born with a good or bad voice; it comes down to exposure to music. She would likely echo Gladwell’s sentiment that supposed prodigies have simply dedicated immense time to honing their skills.
Yet, even if it’s true that we can achieve whatever we desire through effort, do we really not require some inherent talent? Moreover, if I encourage mediocrity in the hope that it someday leads to excellence, am I steering my child away from the things she naturally excels at, preventing her from truly shining in one specific area?
I adored writing in my youth, yet I wasn’t very good at it. The journey was often exhausting, but I persisted, dedicating years to it, even without encouragement. I’m decent at it now and grateful that I explored other creative avenues that supported my writing passion.
That realization hits me on this karaoke day. I should nurture her singing as a hobby, allowing it to develop organically over time. If she’s genuinely interested, she will pursue it, just as I did. She can sing along to the radio and host living room performances, and I’ll offer supportive, honest feedback. However, pushing her to prioritize singing now and seeking voice lessons could distract her from other areas where she truly shines.
Then there’s the crucial question—why does she want to be a celebrity?
“Let me ask you something,” I say, plucking fuzz off a couch pillow. “Why do you want to be a celebrity?”
She shrugs. “Because everyone knows you.”
“And for what? Singing? Wouldn’t it be better if everyone recognized you for something more significant? Something that makes a real difference, like curing diseases or helping people?”
“I can do all that when I become a celebrity.”
Touché.
“Here, let me sing it one more time, and you can give me your honest opinion…”
I lean back to listen. To my surprise, she’s not as flat as before.
In summary, while it’s tempting to tell our children they can achieve anything, it’s equally important to provide them with honest feedback about their strengths and weaknesses. Nurturing their passions while encouraging them to explore what truly makes them exceptional can guide them toward fulfilling their dreams in a balanced way.
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