THE SILENT SPECTRE OF PARENTAL INTERFERENCE

THE SILENT SPECTRE OF PARENTAL INTERFERENCE.

A popular and perhaps apocryphal story is told about a young man whose greatest desire was to become a musician. His parents, especially his father, however wanted him to study medicine and become a doctor. Both parties raged between the polar options: medicine and music, until the son apparently gave in and got into medical school. Years passed and at the appointed time, the young lad graduated with a medical degree to the absolute delight of his parents. The requisite party was thrown with fanfare and pomp, to the delight of all and sundry. Imagine the chagrin the next day, when the young man walked up to his parents, handed them his medical degree and declared, ‘You wanted a doctor in the family. Here’s the degree. I’m now going to study what I’ve always wanted: music’.

Parents, God bless them, are somewhat unjustly called the appendices of family relationships, especially where grown children are concerned: at one time they may have played a valuable, even vital function, but have now been relegated to a vestigial capacity. As Africans though, we are brought up with an inflexible regard for the elderly, more so with parental figures. Their sage advice is still largely welcomed, their presence is accorded privilege, and their company treated with deserved reverence. There comes a time, however when parental influence crosses the line, and is transformed into its evil twin: parental interference. The overbearing, cloying, all permeating influence that sucks initiative from the young, replacing it with a limited, parentally correct version of life. One might be tempted to think that such behavior reveals itself only when pivotal decisions are required, but alas, most parents have a long and nasty of micromanaging the lives of their children, wards and indeed any young person within their sphere of influence.

Let us be clear: no one wants to do away with parental guidance. But then the key word is guidance, not control. Children are by nature highly mercurial and some degree of parental administration is vital. This will vary from child to child, and there is no one–size- fits-all model. Some children may require a softer touch while others may require a hands-on approach. But we can all agree that the older a normal youth gets, the more responsibilities (s)he should assume. Odd indeed is the thirty-something year old who cannot attire himself without the input of his mother. Or the father that insists that his daughter studies a particular major at a particular institution, despite the multiplicity of choices available elsewhere.

Parental interference may stem from the noblest of intentions: parents may believe mistakenly that the youth in question does not possess the skills, character or talents required to successfully pursue a particular course of study. Others may be convinced that financial well-being and societal status are attached only to certain professions and therefore seek to spare their young ones future hardship. Conversely, more insidious motives are also prevalent, in which parents desire to live vicariously through their children, forcing them into fields and endeavors for which they are poorly prepared. A colleague of mine working in the South-South Region told me that an appalling number of the youths in final year at the local secondary school could not write their names. How then did they get to SS3, you ask? Because parents in the community demand that their children are upgraded to the next class, despite their obvious deficiencies or even whether they pass or fail. This attitude is replicated in public and private schools from Kaduna to Calabar and all over the nation. Parents are shocked, insulted even, when a teacher dares to even suggest that their child isn’t ready for the next class. Teachers, not wanting to lose their clientele, go along with the parents’ demands. All the children, regardless of their performance, are promoted to the next class, parents get their egos massaged; everybody wins.  Unfortunately, there is a hidden, pernicious cost to all this duplicity, one that far outweighs any ‘gains’ made in the present.

First, we deny our youth the joy and pleasure of achievement. The rewards of pitting our wits against problems and tasks, and winning, is a feeling unlike any other. Even when we try and fail, we honestly learn more about ourselves than when we actually succeed, so we win both ways. But when parents take the path of least resistance, whether by promoting students who don’t deserve it, or buying grades when they fail, or even paying mercenaries to write their exams for them, they are sending a clear message to their young ones: You do not have the skills necessary to make your way in the world. You will always have to buy your way into positions, friendships and even relationships, because you are incapable of proper social function.

Forcing the young to achieve excellence via ‘study boot camps’ and a Spartan like devotion to academics, is the other unfortunate extreme. Amy Chua, Harvard professor and author of the best-selling satire/memoir ‘Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother’ paints a vivid portrait of raising children in a driven household. Professor Chua forbade any frivolous activity she deemed as distracting to her daughters’ academic prowess. Her daughters were not allowed to score any grade less than an A. There were no sleepovers and they were only given time off to play the violin or the piano (No other instrument was permitted). Television was completely off-limits. Professor Chua herself comes from a family of high achievers: her father is a renowned pioneer in electrical engineering and a professor at the University of California, Berkeley. Her mother holds a degree in chemical engineering, and her sister Katrin is a physician and professor at Stanford University School of Medicine. Yet another sister, Cynthia, holds two gold medals from the Special Olympics, despite being born with Down’s syndrome. Professor Chua seemed keen to continue the trend, and adopted a rigorous schedule for her daughters, even in one extreme case, threatening to burn her daughter’s toys when she found a certain piano piece too difficult to play.

Fortunately Professor Chua saw the error of her ways and began to pull away from the more extreme and controversial standpoints she once held, especially when she discovered her schedule encouraged defiance and rebellion in her younger daughter, Louise, when she expected obedience and compliance. In fact, her book has been described as a ‘coming-of-age story- where the one to come of age is the parent. Professor Chua herself describes her experiences as ‘a bitter clash of cultures, a fleeting taste of glory, and how I was humbled by a thirteen year old. Overbearing parents be warned; a fleeting taste of glory may be all you enjoy before the realities of rebellion and humiliation set in.

Parenting is never an exact science; similar causes do not produce exactly the same results. But as children grow older, parents need to begin the slow and steady transfer of authority to their young ones. The alternatives, either laissez-faire permissiveness or autocratic dominance, have failed us spectacularly. Perhaps it’s time for an approach that marries the needs of youth and the worries of parents in an attempt to provide the best way forward for all parties. The consequences of failure will be far worse than dire.