BEYOND A WAITRESSby Shoshana Wineburg

Five months ago, I started working nights at a restaurant. Though the restaurant is cozy and well-attended, I noticed something peculiar: many diners were not communicating with each other. They were distracted by their screens. Disturbed, I wrote an op-ed and published it in The Seattle Times. At the end of the article, I included this short bio:

 “Shoshana Wineburg graduated from Stanford University in 2009 with a degree in American Studies. She waits tables in Seattle.”

Comments ensued. Most people responded to the article’s content; others could care less. They wanted to talk about my degree. One user wrote that my bio was “the saddest part of the article.” Someone else said my degree was not “worthwhile,” and that waiting tables after graduating from Stanford was “kinda depressing.”

I haven’t just waited tables after Stanford. I’ve done other things. But that’s beside the point. The point is that the comments represent a value system that measures success by achievement and income, not character. This is a type of success our culture breeds, a type of success that pervades our high schools and college campuses. We strive for status. We are defined by our name-brands. We are measured by our income.

I know this value system because I encountered it at Stanford. I know it intimately because I subscribed to it.

Like many other students, once I got to campus, I started looking forward. I made a post-college five-year plan. I had it all figured out.

Until I didn’t.

The problem was that as I equated my self-worth with my achievement, I got sick. It started as stress. Then it mushroomed into crippling anxiety. I spent days with a tightened chest and knotted stomach. The anxiety festered. By winter quarter junior year, I was miserable. I walked around campus with a plastered smile and glassy eyes exhausted from holding back tears. I slid into depression. Negative voices suffocated me. Writing my essays took forever. I imagined getting D’s. You’re worthless, the voices whispered. You’re a fraud.

The following quarter was my quarter abroad. I was supposed to go to France. I convinced myself that the Eifel Tower would solve my problems. Who gets depressed in Paris? How could chocolate croissants not make me happy?

I got worse. I lost my concentration. I couldn’t read because I couldn’t register the words. I struggled to speak. Sentences came out disjointed, thoughts incoherent. I had sleepless nights and my eyes started twitching. I would walk around with my hand clasped to my chest, because the pain throbbed. Complex thoughts shriveled to simple ones. Could I get through the day? How much more could I tolerate? How much longer could I last?

I never got to enjoy the croissant because food lost its taste. I stopped eating. I stopped talking. I stopped living.

Had I not had a best friend with me, I don’t know what would have happened. Her presence was my blessing. It was she who convinced me to go home. She told me that I had been strong, but the real strength would be to admit that I needed help.

So I did the unthinkable for someone who had been hard-wired to succeed. I dropped out of Stanford-in Paris. I failed.

Here’s what failure teaches you. Failure teaches you humility. Failure teaches you are more than your shortcomings; your humanity extends beyond the W’s on your transcript. Failure teaches you gratitude. It forces you to reexamine what’s important and appreciate all you have. Failure is impermanent. You get through it. Along the way, you cultivate perspective. And empathy. And compassion. You learn that despite the fall, you’ll be okay.

When I got back to school, I promised myself that I would live with integrity. I dropped the honors and the double major. I spent my senior year taking classes that resonated with me. I took meaningful classes, classes that forced me to think critically, ethically, and philosophically.

Failure gave me the courage to pursue different paths and paradigms of success. After graduating, I spent time at a religious institute in Jerusalem. I worked with an NGO doing community empowerment with Israel’s Ethiopian Community. I lived on a mountain in Peru and taught English in the Andes.

Now, I’ve returned to the US. And, yes, at night, I work in a restaurant. It’s good money and it pays my bills. It’s not permanent. I don’t aspire to serve food my whole life. But for now, it’s what I’m doing.

We all want to find stable and satisfying employment. But ultimately who we are—how we think, how we communicate, how we empathize, how we love—is just as much a part of success as achievement. Too often we value the latter at the expense of the former. Too often, that recipe makes us sick.

I won’t be made sick. Not again.

Shoshana Wineburg grew up in Seattle, Washington. She graduated from Stanford in 2009 with a degree in American Studies. Following graduation, she lived in Israel and Peru and waited tables in between. She currently works at a restaurant in Seattle.

Giving Our Kids the Best Practice Years of Their Lifeby Harriet Cabelly

The taxi number was up on the refrigerator. She knew the time had come. She had missed the bus one too many times. I was upstairs biting my tongue.

I had rescued my daughter enough times by driving her to school when she overslept. “The next time you miss your bus, you’ll have to figure out how to get to school on your own,” I had said. “But none of my friends drive yet, how will I get there? I can’t take a taxi, it’s too much money.”

And so that became the solution to the problem, which quickly became extinct when she didn’t have enough money for her small pleasure items. When Esti had to dip into her weekly spending money and then some, getting up on time seemed like a better alternative than giving up her cash to a cab driver. I was out of rescue and savior mode and she was learning some great skills: responsibility, accountability, self-reliance. She obviously didn’t like it, but is parenting always about Liking and Pleasing?

It’s about preparing, guiding, teaching our children for real life. It’s about raising them with a future in mind; a future of successful living where the internal make-up of our children will propel them towards living lives of passion, joy, meaning, purpose, satisfaction; where challenges will not knock them out and keep them down but will rather raise them up with renewed strength and motivation to go forward.

Are we helping our kids towards this end? Are we encouraging independence, self-reliance and competence when we over-parent by doing everything for them, when we rush in to prevent them from falling, from making mistakes, from reaping the natural consequences of their actions? It’s by no means easy to sit back and watch our children ‘suffer’ knowing we could do something: intervene to get that mark changed from a C to a B, or get their class changed to the ‘nicer’ teacher. Are we not stripping them of vital opportunities to learn and practice the coping skills needed to deal with things not perfect to our liking?

We basically have eighteen years to do this preparatory work with our children and give them the best shot at creating an internally rich and satisfying life. We need to help them grow these intrinsic qualities of resourcefulness, zest and enthusiasm, perseverance, creativity and a host of others, as these are the perennial underpinnings in our forever transient world.

Experiencing and feeling a sense of satisfaction and pride that comes from struggling through to accomplish a difficult task, figuring out what to do when a problem arises, is what begins to build that resiliency muscle. “I did it myself” is a powerful statement of pride and joy the first time a 4 year old opens his milk container. That internal bit of new confidence will push him through next time despite the difficulty of manipulating the carton. With practice it only gets easier and he feels his own success. This is how we learn specific tasks, but more importantly, it’s how we develop an ‘I can do it’ attitude , a huge building block of competence and confidence.

“And why do we fall, Bruce? So we can learn to pick ourselves up.” (Batman movie)

We must teach our children to keep getting up and growing forward. We want to avoid overwatering their seeds and stunting their growth from blossoming into potentially high-reaching sunflowers.

If these are the practice games of their young lives, we need to teach them to play well, fall and deal with their cuts and bruises. For there will always be hurts. “I will want to take away your pain, but instead I will sit with you and teach you how to feel it.” (Brene Brown)

Harriet Cabelly is a social worker and parent coach. She's passionate about empowering parents to raise resilient, competent and passionate children. You can learn more about Harriet and her work at rebuildlifenow.com

COURAGEOUS PARENTING by Madeline Levine, Ph.D.Second-Hand Performance Anxiety:5 Reasons Why Parents Fret Over Their Kids’ Performance

Welcome to the season of parental anxiety. As surely as winter melts into spring and Uncle Sam demands his yearly tribute, we start worrying about end of semester tests, registration deadlines for the “right” summer camps and the arrival of college acceptance (or, heaven forbid, rejection) letters.

That parents fret about their kids’ performance is no secret. Why and what to do about it is less clear. In this blog I’m going to explore some of the reasons behind the handwringing. Yes, we all love our kids and we all want them to be successful. But that has always been true of parents, and yesterday’s parents didn’t obsess over every test grade and spend every spare minute shuttling them to rehearsals, matches and tournaments…did they?

No. They did not. (Ask yourself: did your parents parent the way you do? Did your friends’ parents?)

You probably know my position on overparenting. However well-intentioned, it doesn’t do kids (or parents) any favors. Research has proven this again and again, and has shed light on the damage it causes in the form of stress, sleep-deprivation and a variety of shortfalls in personal development, notably resilience and coping skills. Yet before parents can stop pressuring, driving and controlling their children they must first understand what’s driving their anxiety.

• The risk of going against perceived community values. Peer pressure is a powerful force. That’s true for adults, too. When everyone else is hiring tutors at the first sign of an A-minus and pushing their kids to pursue two or three extracurricular activities chosen with an eye toward bolstering their college application, to do otherwise is to go against the cultural norm. Even if we know in our heart that deviating from said norms is best for our child, no one wants to be perceived as a “not good enough” parent.

So many parents describe feeling like “a salmon swimming upstream.” To watch your neighbors spend thousands to send their child to the top academic enrichment camp while yours hangs out at the local YMCA day camp all summer is tough. Even knowing he needs that break from the rigors of school, it’s hard not to second-guess yourself. It takes conviction and self-assurance and, yes, great love for your child. It is also part of your responsibility to be more tuned to the needs of your child and her healthy development than to community norms.

• The belief that not providing all possible opportunities and enrichment experiences will put your child at a disadvantage. Here’s the remedy for this one: realize that many of the strategies we use to optimize our children’s potentials are based on faulty thinking. Ironically, pressuring them to achieve, scheduling them to the max, and dismissing unstructured play as a waste of time is not only not helping our kids, it’s actually harming them.

For the most part, our children don’t need a puppet-master directing them to the “right” activities. They do need the space and freedom to find their internal motivation and develop self-efficacy.

Kids with no down time miss out on the vital developmental tasks of childhood. It’s through unstructured play and “hanging out” that children hone social skills, imagination, persistence, and a sense of self. The foundation gained in childhood is critical for eventually building a healthy adult.

• A dearth of career opportunities. It’s true that the economy is grim, that jobs are in short supply, and that our kids will graduate childhood and enter a super competitive “flat world.” I won’t deny this reality and I do understand why parents feel they must give their kids every advantage. But—again—the things we’re doing to provide that advantage are the exact opposite of what most kids need.

A singular focus on academics keeps kids from developing other life skills critical for success in a global economy: the ability to self-motivate, collaborate, problem-solve, and persevere when the going gets tough. These are the very skills business leaders say so many young employees lack; instead, they display a sense of entitlement and a distressing lack of work ethic and “grit.” When we turn our children into good-grade machines and neglect the rest of their development, we set them up to fail in the business world.

• “How else can I measure myself if not by my kid's performance?” This question has two potential meanings. One is, if my child doesn’t excel academically, then how do I measure my success as a parent? The other variation is, if I’m not the parent of an academic superstar…then how do I measure my success as a human being? Let’s discuss them one at a time.

First, academic success is not the be-all end-all. Every kid is not a whiz kid. Every child is not above average. (Talk about a statistical impossibility!) Yet, whether the school system labels them as “gifted” or not, every child does have his or her own unique and marvelous gifts. Learning to fully appreciate and nurture those gifts—and not just the skill-du-jour—is, in my opinion, the key to successful parenting.

Here’s the thing: not every child wants to be a neurosurgeon. All can be fulfilled in their chosen professions. (Research is clear that income and prestige are no guarantees of happiness.) If you can let your child follow his passions and make his own way—and enthusiastically support his choices while offering love and guidance—you’ll likely create a happy, healthy, confident adult. Parent this way, with an eye toward authentic success 20 years down the road, and you can count yourself as a success.

The second iteration of this question (which might be phrased “If not a parent, who am I?”) raises deeper, more complex psychological issues. For a variety of reasons—our own insecurities, loss of connection to our roots, lack of community support—we put all of our eggs in one basket. We confuse our own identities and needs with those of our kids. We look to our children’s achievements as tangible evidence that our own lives have value—and when they fall short of our expectations, no wonder we feel anxious.

• An over-involvement with child-centered activities and a neglect of adult activities. For the reasons I just mentioned, too many parents put children at the center of the family. We spend our time in the bleachers watching them play sports. We allot our disposable income to their activities. We structure our lives around them. In the process we eschew date nights, friendships and activities we enjoy. Then, we wonder why we get so upset and frustrated when our “investment” doesn’t appear to be paying off.

It’s time to rediscover our own needs, our own identities, our own relationships with friends and partners, our own sense of fun — Our own life. Not only will this alleviate the anxiety we feel over how our kids are doing, it will go along way toward preventing the entitlement and self-centeredness so many kids exhibit.

Finally think about this: We simply cannot control our children’s future no matter how many enrichment experiences we buy and how many tutors we hire. Actually, this realization may be the most powerful catalyst for behavior change there is. It lets us off the hook and allows us to let go a little. It gives us permission to stop worrying about our kids’ performance and grades—their heads—and start paying attention to their hearts. It allows us to model an exciting and vital view of adulthood. When we can make this leap it will feel much better to our kids…and to us.

COURAGEOUS PARENTING by Madeline Levine, Ph.D.Put On Your Own Mask First: A New Year’s Message To Parents

Put your own mask on first, then assist children with theirs. Anyone who has ever flown has heard this bit of wisdom. It’s also a familiar analogy for how we should approach parenting. We can’t help our kids if we’re not okay ourselves. Most of us know this in theory. But how many of us live like we know it?

We parents worry about our kids’ grades, their social lives, their emotional health, how much sleep they get. We worry about whether they’ll get accepted to a good school and what their employability will look like. And (might as well admit it), we worry about how they stack up against our friends’ children.

What we don’t worry about is whether our own (metaphorical) mask is securely fastened. I’m sure there are a few parents who wear their self-denial like a badge of honor, who think living for their kids is the ultimate virtue. In most cases, though, the “kids first” life sneaks up on us. We wake up one day to find that they’re getting the lion’s share of the family’s time, resources and attention.

What lucky kids, right? Not really. From my 25 years of clinical experience, children who constantly occupy the center of their parents’ universe tend not to fare so well in life.

Kids model what they see. When Mom’s life is a lonely endurance race defined by a stressful job, nightly cooking and cleaning marathons, and weekends devoted to cheering on her offspring as they kick a soccer ball around, that becomes “normal” to kids. They may well grow up to build their own existence around joyless hard work, self-deprivation and little down time.

Or—and this is hardly an improvement—kids can become insufferably self-centered and entitled. Hey, if Mom lives to serve and adore me I must be something special! they quite logically conclude. The world exists to serve me. Me, me, me!

Perhaps I’m exaggerating a trifle. But you get my point: a healthy family life is one in which all members share the load and where everyone gets to play. That definitely includes moms and dads.

So here’s my New Year’s challenge to you: take an honest look at your life and be real with yourself about what you see. Are your needs being met? Are you taking care of yourself? Have you lost that “zest” that makes life fun and interesting? And what can you do in 2013 to change that?

A few suggestions:

To thine own self be true. Ask yourself: Am I living in congruence with my values? If you want one thing yet do the opposite—valuing fitness yet not making time to exercise, wanting to save for retirement but not doing so because your mortgage takes up all your income—the answer is no. And that’s a recipe for certain unhappiness.

We don’t live in a perfect world, but most of us can bring our reality closer to our ideal. Make 2013 the year you aim for that. Living in alignment with your values may be a matter of “just doing it” (getting up 30 minutes earlier and taking a brisk walk) or it may require more daunting changes (downsizing to a smaller home).

Incremental changes can result in a leap in happiness. A single step can shift your perspective.

Get healthy. (Or at least healthier.) Again, it doesn’t have to be all or nothing. No one is asking you to go vegan and train for the New York marathon. But you can slowly make the switch to organic food and take a Zumba class a few days a week. Taking care of your health, and maybe shedding the 20 pounds that’s crept up on you over the years, is the greatest gift you can give yourself.

Find a form of exercise that you enjoy and will actually look forward to. It will become your “me time” and you will figure out how to work it in. We find a way to do what matters to us. (If the kid has to catch a ride to soccer practice so you can get to your workout, fine. It will teach him self-sufficiency!)

Nurture your relationships. When people write these kinds of blogs they usually say to plan regular date nights with your spouse or partner. Good advice, as far as it goes; making time for romance does keep you from languishing in the decidedly unsexy “Mom” rut. But I think it’s just as critical—if not more so—to make time for our friendships. (And I don’t mean a once-a-year phone call on your old college roommate’s birthday. Friendship takes commitment and face time.)

Happy women are not socially isolated. They’re not “just” wives and mothers. They’re also friends. They have relationships with other women who know them deeply. Friends give us someone to kvetch to, to work out with, to try out new restaurants and see movies with. If there’s no one you can call right now and ask to meet you for a glass of wine or a cup of coffee, you’re missing an essential element in your life. It’s time to change that.

Learn something new. A big part of being a vital, healthy adult is refusing to stagnate. Take a creative writing course at your local community college, master a new language, or learn how to knit. Keeping your brain engaged sharpens innate natural abilities, staves off depression and makes life more rich and meaningful.

A big part of your job as a parent is showing kids what being a happy, fulfilled adult looks like. Sure you’re paying bills and providing for your kids and working hard...but are you having fun? If not, why would kids ever want to grow up?

Finally, when you “get a life” you won’t be so enmeshed in theirs, so invested in every test grade and the outcome of every game. Your kids will have breathing room to make mistakes, to figure out who they are, to find their own way. That’s what kids need—and that giving it to them also means giving yourself what you need is the real beauty of this thing we call parenting.

Lingering, Lights and Longingby Rabbi Patricia Karlin-Neumann

In this holiday season, too much of our lives are determined by desire. We are bombarded by the newest toys we must have. We obsess about the plans we painstakingly make. We long for friends and family from afar to be in our midst.

Some of those desires uplift us. Some are imposed upon us. Nowhere is this more apparent than in the blizzard of questions and assumptions faced by students navigating to and through high school toward a future college. Too often, for young adults and those who love them the holiday season can feel like trial by query. “What do you want to be when you grow up?” “Where did you apply?” “How many schools?” “What’s your safety school?” “What do you think you’ll major in?” While the questioners are often well meaning, the degree of desire increases exponentially with each question.

Students, how can you remove the heavy mantle of other people’s needs, anxieties and expectations and determine your own desires? How can you approach this season of evaluations and essays, deadlines and decisions from a place of elevation and uplift? Just as this season brings pressure, so too, it can bring clarity. At this time when days are short and darkness comes quickly, we traditionally and instinctively infuse the holiday season with light—light, which can help us remember what is worth waiting for.

The central symbol of Chanukah is the menorah. Simple or ornate, it holds eight candles, one new candle lit on each of the eight nights of the holiday and one additional sole candle, called the shamash, the server. The candles for each night are lit, not by a match, but by the small flame of the shamash. In Jewish tradition, the shamash is thought to hold hidden light, strength not only for its own glow, but also to illumine a path for others. The flame of the shamash extends strength to uncover courage, to give birth to hope, to harken awareness. Amidst the darkness of limited vision, of generalized and undisputed expectations, of a narrow view of success, of unbridled competition, of uncritical thinking and unacknowledged feeling, let the shamash, the small candle of strength illuminate, for both students and those who love them, deeper desires.

The commandment to light the menorah is widely recognized. What is less well known is the tradition to watch the candles as they slowly burn down each night. What might we learn about ourselves, about our desires, if we sit with those flickering flames, if we enter into a dream state looking into the light, untroubled by expectations, undisturbed by anxiety? What might we discover if we find ourselves meditating, contemplating, closing out the calls of competition, masking the marketplace, refusing the ratings?

This season, whatever our religious background, whatever our spiritual practice, let the metaphor of the shamash, of light engendering light help us to quell the chatter, invite understanding and unite us with our deepest desires. Here, for each night, is a question in service to the light. Like the shamash, let them kindle others, ignite discussion with those we love about what matters, awakening our own desire for purpose in this season of holiday light and of love.

What do I wonder about?
What are my gifts and strengths?
What have my mistakes and disappointments taught me?
When do I feel alive with learning?
What would I sacrifice for?
What do I do that inspires dignity and respect?
How do I want to make a difference in the world?
What could college or my next stage be?

As we ask our questions, as we come in touch with our deepest desires, as we create clarifying conversations this holiday season, let us remember the wisdom of educator and activist John Gardner,

“Meaning is not something you stumble across, like the answer to a riddle or the prize in a treasure hunt. Meaning is something you build into your life. You build it out of your own past, out of your affections and loyalties, out of the experience of humankind as it is passed on to you, out of your own talent and understanding, out of the things you believe in, out of the things and people you love, out of the values for which you are willing to sacrifice something. The ingredients are there. You are the only one who can put them together into that unique pattern that will be your life. Let it be a life that has dignity and meaning for you. If it does, then the particular balance of success or failure is of less account.”

May the holidays be filled with warmth, with wisdom and with love.

Rabbi Patricia Karlin-Neumann is Senior Associate Dean for Religious Life at Stanford University. She co-chaired the Campus Climate Study Group of Stanford's Task Force on Student Mental Health and Well Being and has been an advisor to Challenge Success since its inception. She teaches and lectures widely on rabbinical ethics, the relationship between religion and education, and social justice.

COURAGEOUS PARENTING by Madeline Levine, Ph.D.When Abundance Can Feel Like Deprivation (A Holiday Perspective)

The season of giving is here. And whether it’s due to Christmas, Hanukkah or any of the other holidays that coincide with the winter solstice, families everywhere scurry around trying to figure out what gifts they might buy to delight and dazzle their kids.

What lucky, lucky kids they are. Yes?

In some ways, sure. It is a blessing to be warm, well-fed, well-loved and growing up in the land of opportunity. But in other ways, no. Ironically, while cushioned with the trappings of abundance, many of our kids are deeply deprived. And what they’re deprived of is a childhood.

Think about it: today’s kids are perpetually stressed and hurried. Short of sleep. Overscheduled. Constantly pressured to get perfect grades, excel in their extracurriculars, get accepted into “the right” schools. It has to be this way, parents frequently remind them, if they’re ever going to be able to compete in a global economy.

“More, better, faster” is an exhausting way to live, but worse, it’s debilitating. It leads to emotional problems like depression and anxiety, substance abuse (honors students taking Ritalin to stay awake), social isolation and shallow relationships (how can you form friendships if you don’t have time for friends?).

And the overparenting that fuels this lifestyle wreaks its own damage. Steered, pushed and propped-up by parents, kids never develop the coping skills, the self-sufficiency, and the internal motivation they need to thrive as working adults. Heck, they may not even develop a working identity. (How can you find out who you are when someone else is always telling you who to be?)

That we’re actually harming our kids’ ability to live successful lives is astoundingly ironic, because—of course—parents believe we’re doing just the opposite. We believe we’re giving our kids a much-needed “edge.” Thus, the behavior I’ve just described is culturally sanctioned. It’s simply what parents do now.

Still, on some level we know something’s not right with the way we’re raising our kids. It’s hard not to tell they’re miserable and exhausted. Perhaps this is why we go overboard on the holiday gift giving: we’re compensating. Yet we need to realize that no amount of gift-wrapped “consolation prizes” can begin to make up for a stolen childhood.

Here are some of the “gifts” (and yes, some of these seem unlikely to appear on any wish list!) I would love to see parents give their kids this holiday season and beyond:

• Less overscheduling and more “PDF”™ time (Play Time, Down Time and Family Time). In our frantic attempts to give kids an “edge” we have replaced free time (during which kids play, form friendships and just hang out) with lessons, practices, matches and tutoring sessions. Not only do kids miss out on some of the richest and most memorable parts of childhood, they lose the critical developmental work that happens in the quiet spaces between activities—relationship skills, coping skills, creativity and more.

Infuse some breathing room in your child’s schedule and you’ll see them blossom in surprising ways. You’ll also get to know them better…partly because you see them more, and partly because they’ll have the chance to get to know themselves. 

• The gift of failure. Sure, there’s a time and place for parental intervention. But most of us intervene too quickly, too often and in situations where it’s inappropriate. We micromanage our kids’ school projects, bring their forgotten book bags to school, step in to “rescue” them from social conundrums. Yes, it’s painful to watch kids struggle, but it’s the struggle that develops coping skills and resilience. 

Stop doing for your child what he can almost do for himself. When he was a baby he fell on his diapered bottom numerous times but, eventually, he got up and walked. Let him “fall” now and, eventually, he’ll develop the competence and the confidence he needs to do that which life demands of him.

• The freedom to be imperfect. When a single B on an otherwise A-filled report card results in headshakes and dire lectures about the future, kids quickly learn that “perfect” is the only acceptable result. First, this is untrue. The path to a successful life doesn’t always involve academic superstardom followed by an Ivy League degree. (Success is not a straight line, but an unpredictable squiggle.) But even if it were true, the stress involved trying to get there can be spirit crushing.

Next to genetics, perfectionism is the strongest predictor of clinical depression we know of. Life is full of mistakes, imperfect days, human failings. By keeping kids from learning a healthy sense of perspective, we set them up for certain unhappiness in the future.

• More contributions and fewer entitlements. Your child may have a big physics test tomorrow, but that’s no excuse for letting her get out of helping you clear away the dinner dishes. She’ll gain far more from learning that everyone must pitch in to solve problems than from the extra 10 minutes of study she might get. (Yes, her test is important, but no more important than the work presentation you have to prepare for tomorrow, right?)

• Acceptance of who they are. Every child cannot be academically exceptional. Most children are not likely to be neurosurgeons or rocket scientists. (And high-prestige, high-income jobs are no guarantee of a happy life—there are plenty of CEOs who are miserable and carpenters who are fulfilled.) We need to learn that normal is okay. In fact, it’s more than okay.

Every child has “superpowers” of his or her own, and we need to learn how to appreciate, respect and nurture those unique talents and abilities. We need to love the child in front of us, and not try to shape him into being the child our culture tells us he should be. Efforts to do so will fail, and our child will never feel loved for who he is.

• Happy, fulfilled parents who have their own (adult) life. Too often, parents confuse their own needs with those of their kids. They spend all their time pushing their child to study more and shape their family life around “supporting” him in the all-important extracurriculars. As they spend weekend after weekend sitting passively in the bleachers cheering as he plays soccer, they lose themselves. This does no one—parent or child—any favors.

When everything is centered on your child, you’re likely to perpetuate an unattractive sense of entitlement and self-centeredness. So get a life! Get a hobby. Find a friend. Having interests of your own not only allows you to be less reliant on your children’s triumphs to feel good about yourself, it paints a more appealing picture of adulthood. (Maybe she’ll actually want to grow up and move out some day!

It’s fun to show your kids you love them. If lavishing them with Christmas and Hanukkah gifts gives you a warm glow, so be it. Just don’t neglect the things that aren’t things at all—namely, the skills, the habits, the mindset, the perspective and the emotional health your kids will need to create happy and meaningful lives. These are the gifts that matter, the gifts she’ll still have for years, for decades, down the road.

Why Cheat? More Importantly, Why Not?by Stephanie Rafanelli

Reports of academic dishonesty – within prestigious universities, on high school exit exams, by authors of bestselling books – have been widespread this fall. In the wake of cheating, academic communities rush to bolster or clarify disciplinary procedures. New or repeated sessions about proper citation techniques are added to the curriculum. Teachers ask students to leave backpacks at the door and phones on the front desk.

Then we all pause and ask, “Why?”

The answers may vary slightly each time, but they usually include some variation of the following:

“I just didn’t have time to really ‘do’ the work.”
"Because I could - it is so easy."
"I don't care about the material - it's totally irrelevant to my life."
"The teacher doesn't even care or check."

And most often:

“Because I can't mess up.”

In our current high stakes system where every test or assignment seems to be a critical step on the pathway to adult success, students frequently feel that they have no room for error. The process of learning the material pales in comparison to the importance of earning a top grade. In addition, they may doubt their own ability to accomplish the task. Combine fear with some doubt, and copying someone else’s ideas may seem like a pretty good option.

How can we help students become invested in the process of learning as much as, if not more than, in the product? How do we help students develop authentic confidence in their own competence? How can we help students take more pride in and responsibility for their own effort?

Beyond the work we are doing at Challenge Success, there is a solid and rapidly growing body of research exploring these questions. Carol Dweck, Angela Duckworth, James Heckman, and Eric Anderman are just a few people actively investigating what is often referred to as ‘character education.’ The research is varied, but three suggestions for educators and parents consistently emerge:

1. Foster intrinsic motivation.
2. Encourage persistence in face of failure.
3. Nurture grit and stick-to-it-ness in pursuit of mastery.

While I still grapple with cheating incidents each year, I have tried to honor the ideas above in multiple ways. I let learners design projects, write some of their own test questions, and choose areas to explore. Students are allowed to revise and resubmit assignments multiple times. I involve students in creating assessment standards, participating in peer evaluation, and developing self-evaluation skills. With every task, I ask them, “So what? How might this relate to your life outside school?” Any time they can connect outside interests to something we investigate in class, I cheer. At school and at home, we talk about people who display integrity and people who don’t. We discuss why they might have made the choices they did and what we might have done in a similar situation. Was the short-term reward worth the long-term result?

Learners need to feel some authentic connection to and engagement in a task, they need to recognize small failures as a healthy aspect of the learning process, and they need to develop an understanding that true mastery and pursuit of a passion may take years. Essentially, we need to help each individual find her own answer to the question, “Why not cheat?”

Stephanie Rafanelli is both a school coach and a parent education facilitator for Challenge Success. Stephanie has been a middle school science and math teacher for nineteen years. In addition to almost two decades in the classroom, she has served as department chair, both academic and also grade level Dean, a parent and faculty educator, and a leader of curriculum reform. She has founded and run several summer and afterschool programs such as Sally Ride Science Camp for Girls and Menlo Summer Explorations. Stephanie is an educational consultant for multiple organizations. When she is not thinking about education, Stephanie is usually creating chaos with her three children.