I find myself reminiscing about the days when my kids were in elementary school. Just about 15 minutes before the dismissal bell, moms would gather on the blacktop, chatting away. We exchanged stories about minor issues (like the challenges of third-grade math) and more significant concerns. We were all grappling with insecurities as parents, striving to “get it right” while continually doubting ourselves. Was making my child write out spelling words five times too harsh? Was it wrong to occasionally use the iPad as a babysitter? And when that bully poked my child in the back of the neck with a sharp pencil, was it unreasonable for me to imagine confronting him? What bonded our group was the shared understanding that we were all figuring it out together.
The only parents I found difficult to relate to were the rigid ones, those who seemed to have their household rules set in stone. They would often declare, “I was spanked as a child, and I turned out fine,” or impose strict dating rules for their daughters that prompted questions like, why are we discussing the dating lives of kids still losing baby teeth? Why even engage in such discussions?
A few of these moms infiltrated my circle, and I sometimes wish we could have politely ousted their know-it-all attitudes. Instead, they made me question my own decisions. Why didn’t I have a strict 8 p.m. bedtime? Why wasn’t I insisting on an hour of reading before snacks? Why didn’t I have a designated time-out chair?
Through countless discussions with like-minded moms, I learned some essential truths: (1) Parenting is not one-size-fits-all; (2) Overly confident parents don’t necessarily know more than I do—they just believe they do; (3) I would never fully know if my parenting choices were right or wrong; I had to rely on my instincts (and advice from trusted friends) and do my best.
Now, as I look around, those unyielding parents are still holding firm. Their advice may have changed over the years (I doubt any of them still use time-out chairs), but their inflexibility remains. They had all the answers back then, so why wouldn’t they now? Among their many rigid beliefs, one that truly bothers me is their insistence that you drop your child off at college and leave until Thanksgiving break.
I understand the rationale: encouraging freshmen to disconnect from home helps them adjust to their new environment. It’s an attempt to avoid indulging homesickness—because apparently, feeling homesick after 18 years of stability is unacceptable.
Leaving a child at college, regardless of their readiness, feels as risky as tossing them into a swimming pool and expecting them to swim. Some adapt and learn to float; others may struggle, and some might remember the trauma of being left to fend for themselves. So, if a child manages to dog-paddle to the pool’s edge, do the ends justify the means? Aren’t there more personalized approaches to achieve the same outcome?
It’s unrealistic to assume every child will flourish if simply dropped off at college. I was among those who thrived. I jumped out of my parents’ car, grabbed my things, blew a few air kisses, and headed straight for my dorm. I was the type who, just minutes into college, dreaded returning home for fall break. Meanwhile, my roommate, left alone in our small dorm room, crumbled. She spent her first semester feeling isolated and longing for her cat. She never forgave her parents for what she saw as abandonment. We are extreme examples, but think of all the nuances in between.
It’s challenging to predict what support a child needs as they embark on their first big adventure. My son has been away for five weeks, and with care packages and invites for free meals (he’s only an hour away and our eldest), his desires fluctuate wildly. One moment he says, “Leave me alone; you’re suffocating me,” and the next, “Send more cookies. Now.” His needs are constantly changing, and we don’t always meet them, which is perfectly fine. That’s what I anticipated when he left home.
Each day, I’m uncertain whether we’re being too overbearing or successfully giving him space. Our goal isn’t to predict every challenge; it’s to respond to his cues and confusion. Contrary to some beliefs, there’s no single way to navigate the college experience, especially from the start. The best approach is to acknowledge our uncertainties and move forward from there.
If you’re interested in exploring more about the journey of parenting and home insemination, check out this related blog post. For authoritative information, Make a Mom offers excellent insights into home insemination, and Medline Plus is a fantastic resource for pregnancy-related queries.
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Summary:
The article discusses the complexities of parenting a college freshman, highlighting the challenges of letting go while acknowledging that every child’s needs are unique. It critiques the rigid belief that students should be left alone to “tough it out” at college and emphasizes the importance of adaptability in parenting approaches.
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