Rich Kids and Rich Parents

“Rich kids” are American archetypes. They are brash and entitled, spoiled, self-centered and concerned only with their own pleasure. They are materialistic, shallow, and believe that the world revolves around them. While I am describing a stereotype, I have taught long enough to know that these kids exist. I also know that they need not be the product of wealthy families, but wealthy families have an easier time producing them.

Often, when I am traveling, I observe older teenagers in the airport, on their way to exotic and expensive vacations. I don’t know these kids but I wonder about them. I see them playing with their toys, throwing teenage tantrums, being rude and unaware. I wonder if I was one of those kids. I worry that my children will become like them too.

As a child, I never thought of myself as wealthy. I think that the air I breathed was so “rich” that I didn’t know what a rich or “non-rich” kid was. I have never driven a fancy car. I didn’t wear expensive clothing or have the latest gadgets. My house was neither extravagant nor enormous. I never saw myself as snobby or entitled. Yet others noticed: I came from money.

When I was in middle school, a new family moved next door. They immediately built a pool in their backyard. That didn’t shock me; my family had a tennis court. What did shock me was the way their children left their toys around. Their toys were awesome. I would have loved these expensive, often electronic, toys when I was their age. I knew this because I frequently found their toys in my backyard. At first, I would return them. Then I set them aside and waited to see if anyone came to collect them. No one did. Finally, I left them where they fell. These kids didn’t value these toys. They didn’t miss them when they were gone.

Stereotypically, rich kids have an air (heir?) of entitlement. They expect expensive toys to reappear after they have lost them. As a teacher, I have worked with children like this. They expect the good grade and are flabbergasted when I expect them to earn it. Families with resources sometimes have the expectation that all problems can be solved easily, quickly, and without non-monetary costs – and money can buy a lot. Their children see that it only takes a checkbook to make challenges vanish. And without challenges and struggle, real learning doesn’t exist.

If your every desire appears when you wish it (or even appears before you had the chance to wish it), then you are in a perpetual childhood. Your happiness depends on your parents providing and you are ineffectual. You have no intrinsic power and are dependent on external things to keep you happy. It must be frightening for a child to think, “without all this money, I can’t do anything and neither can my parents – and our happiness depends on it.”

Money is only a piece of the happiness puzzle. Granted, it is an important piece, but there are other critical factors that shape our lives and our children. The great author, Robert Heinlein said, “Do not handicap your children by making their lives easy.” Some well-to-do parents are concerned about “wealth poisoning:” that their money may rob their children of the motivation to achieve independently. My experience says that this concern should not be taken lightly. It has become a central piece of my parenting philosophy. I don’t want my children to fit any of that rich kid stereotype.

Providing our children the best of everything without any of the costs may be robbing them of real wealth. Good parenting requires a consciousness of how our need to provide for our kids will shape their outlooks on the world and thus their futures. We also need to look in the mirror and think about the lessons that our behavior teaches them.

Greater, Further, Harder, Meaner

I used to think that assigning more challenging work was the mark of a good teacher. It seemed to me that the kids most respected the tough teachers. Teachers in my department bragged about rigor. Teachers would look over each other’s shoulders and judge. Those who assigned fewer assignments or texts were lightweights and slouches. I didn’t want to be one of those!

The other day, as part of a school in-service, groups of teachers sat down and graded the same paper. Everyone had his or her own beef with the sample paper. There were dozens of ways the student writer didn’t measure up. It felt like a game of “can you top this.” I was so glad that the writer of the paper wasn’t in the room; he would have felt horrible.

Is that how kids feel when they get their papers back? Do they feel beaten up? Is that how kids feel in class, rigored and worked to death? Has the goal become greater, further, harder, meaner? I have become concerned that we are moving in that direction and it isn’t good for any of us.

My daughter has an unbelievable amount of homework and an overstuffed schedule. In some classes, she can have several hours of homework. For example, in her English class right now, she is working on a paper on the last book they finished, and reading the current book. In addition, she has an independent reading book and a project on another set of readings. That is four assignments at once – in only one class. In addition to her six other classes, she is a varsity athlete, member of the student council, orchestra and stage crew. She is busier than most adults I know, including those who are parents of teenagers!

Is all this work, all this intensity, and all this time making our children better students? By spending this kind of effort, our kids are learning the skills and scoring well on tests. Rigor works. That is why schools that are struggling use old fashioned drill strategies and cut out the “fluff.” But we all pay a price for that rigor.

The real question isn’t does it work, but is it worth it; is it making our children better people? That is the question I am asking myself as a teacher and as a dad. My child is stretched thinner than cellophane, but she can write well. She doesn’t get enough sleep and is frequently stressed out, but she performs well on tests. Is this healthy?

I can’t teach students how to write without assigning writing. Learning requires some degree of effort, but do we have to take a “no pain, no gain” approach? Can’t learning be fun? Can’t learning be balanced and healthy?

As educators and parents, we often judge our own effectiveness by our children’s success. That is both natural and problematic. Teachers and parents should be held accountable, of course. So do we get more gold stars or brownie points if our children have twelve activities instead of eight or scores in the 99th percentile instead of the 94th? How much is enough? We have been sucked into an increasing spiral of expectations for them and for us! We are never happy with our performance or theirs because we always want more, more, more!

The latest educational buzz word is “targets.” The idea is that the student is like an archer and it is our job to help him or her hit the bull’s-eye. But the bull is Argos and has a million eyes! A porcupine shooting all of its quills couldn’t hit all these targets. Each time we review the targets, we come up with more. The list is never ending and just thinking of it makes me tired and worried.

More is not always better. Harder work isn’t always more meaningful. We have caught ourselves in a rigor trap and it is eating our children’s childhoods and our sanity. It is time to look at the real targets: what do we want a student to learn? What should the school experience look like? How do we redesign school so that kids can be kids and still learn the really important things they need? It is time to name the important things, the real important things!