By
Paula Bolyard
When our first son was born in 1991 we were told to lay him on his
tummy at naptime — never, ever on his back because it would increase his risk
of choking and Sudden Infant Death Syndrome (SIDS). By the time our second
child came along in 1994 the experts had decided that parents should never,
ever let their children sleep on their stomachs because it increased the risk
of choking and SIDS. A month after he was born the experts told us that we
needed to buy a wedge that forced our son to sleep on his side. This would
prevent choking and lower the risk of SIDS. Thus was our introduction to our
generation’s obsession with hypervigilant parenting.
We were instructed to bathe our kids in Purell and to sterilize
everything that touched our bubble children. We were also told to instruct them
about inappropriate touch from the moment they exited the womb. Instead of
letting our children explore the neighborhood, entertaining themselves in the
great outdoors, parents were encouraged to prop their children up in front of Dora
the Explorer so they could vicariously experience her adventures in the
safety of their playrooms (while munching on organic peanut-free multi-grain
crackers and drinking hormone-free organic milk). Good parenting also demanded
scheduling and supervising every minute of a child’s day.
This video is a nostalgic reminder of the freedom children have
lost over the years. I was growing up (mostly in the ’70s), my parents had no
idea where my brother and I were or what we were doing most of the day when
school was out. During the summer, we’d leave the house in the morning and
wouldn’t return until dinner time, often at the behest of our parents. After
dinner we would play outdoors until it got dark. If our parents wanted us to
come home, they would shout our names out the back door (our more refined
neighbors would turn on the porch light). If we were out of earshot or ignored
their calls, there were consequences miserable enough to keep us close to home
the next time.
We organized epic neighborhood kick-the-can marathons and kickball
games without the help of our parents. We settled squabbles and rivalries with
heated arguments that sometimes led to shoving matches — or if a really
egregious injustice had been committed, we hurled rocks. We participated
in some organized sports, but they were not the center of our parents’ universe
— a lawn in need of mowing generally took precedence over a softball game. Because
we only had one car and my dad drove it to work every day, if we wanted to go
to the local pool or the library (2 miles away) we rode our bikes (sometimes
two to a bike), walked, or even roller skated.
Everyone I knew had a job in high school (my first was working for
$2.00/hour at the Dairy Queen) and nearly everyone got a driver’s license the
minute they turned sixteen. We exulted in our freedom and self-sufficiency when
we were able to buy our own clothes and purchase our own concert tickets. Our parents
didn’t have the option of tracking our movements by pinging our cell phones. If
we needed to let them know we’d be late, we’d drop two dimes in a pay phone and
call home (or if we didn’t have any change for the phone we would call collect
and pay for our rank irresponsibility when we got home).
Somehow, we survived all this independence and freedom, mostly
unscathed. And somehow, we managed to produce some of the greatest innovators
the world has ever know. I realize that we can’t go back — we live in a day and
age when busybody neighbors will call social services if they see your kids
unattended in the wild.
But it’s worth thinking about the consequences of raising a
generation or two of bubble kids and definitely worth considering how we can
give our kids more unstructured time to invent, to create, and to imagine — to
just be – free from structure and hovering helicopter
parents. Because it’s becoming apparent that all the hovering and
over-parenting, rather than helping our kids, has led to a generation of
approval-seeking, naval-gazing, adult dependents who cannot navigate the world
of adulthood without Buzzfeed or a government official telling them what to do
and what to think about everything.
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