Guiding Your Kids to Their Good Life

As a dad, there’s nothing more important to me than the welfare of my kids. I’ve lost count of how many times I have dropped everything and literally run to help them in times of need. (Typically, it’s my son, on the way to the emergency room for another injury from an action sport. But my two daughters have had their fair share of crisis moments, too.)

Besides those emergency moments regarding their health and safety, they get my full attention whenever a big decision or looming issue arises that will impact their future. I’m thinking of their transitions to a new school, struggles with a particular teacher or subject, problems at their part-time jobs, and, indeed, everything related to college admissions. I always want to provide emotional stability and support for them, but more importantly, help guide them to make the best decisions for themselves that will have a positive impact on their future. 

Most often in those consequential seasons or moments, I step in with parental authority and insert my perspective. As you can imagine, my opinion or approach isn’t, how would you say, requested or appreciated. We’re talking about adolescents here. Nevertheless, I am there and play an active part, for better or for worse. 

Now and then, though, I’m allowed to speak into their lives and how they’re approaching big decisions. For instance, I’ve had several occasions when my now 19-year-old son has asked for my opinion on his education and career path. These opportunities, of course, are incredibly rare and sacred, and I’ve been caught off guard every time. It’s surprising to me because these moments should be very straightforward to a parent. Like getting the ball passed to you when you’re wide open under the basket, layups are easier in concept than in reality. (If you prefer a golf metaphor, these are parental gimme putts.) 

These are the moments that we’ve been preparing for for years. Yet, in my experience, I’ve found myself tongue-tied and unable to pull together a meaningful or helpful thought, especially when I am the “YouSchool Guy”, someone who’s been fortunate enough to dedicate my almost quarter-century career to guiding young adults through identity formation. 

So, we’re going to pull this moment apart and help you, parents and mentors, prepare for your moment when the clouds part and the sun shines on you and the kid you care about wants to hear your opinion about their life. 

I know what our kids are requesting in those moments is an answer. “Tell me what I should major in.” “What should I do for work?” That’s how they frame it, at least, because those are the downstream dynamics that bring them the most anxiety.

But answering those questions directly is NOT what they need. That would violate their autonomy, and the way autonomy works. Autonomy is a core psychological need for them, a sense that their actions flow from an inner source. Infringing on their autonomy by giving them your answer would short-circuit the very process that’s required for them to find their inner source. (How’s that for a mindbender?)

It’s tempting to give them a direct answer, though, because their anxiety is also ours. We, too, worry about what they will study and what they will do for work. We worry because their time is connected with our investment—both financially and emotionally. We worry because their choices are reflections of our value as parents and our success in raising them (or not). 

Their success and our success are intimately intertwined. 

So what do we say when they ask us for our opinion? How can we guide our kids well so they find their own inner source, grow into clarity about how to navigate the complexities of the time of life they’re in, and develop the confidence to trust themselves?

That’s what we’re going to tackle together. Welcome to this new series: Guiding Your Kids to Their Good Life.

This marks the first in a forthcoming series of articles and podcast episodes to help you guide your kids to clarity about the life they’re building. Notice the operating word in that sentence: *they’re*. It’s not your life, even though you are intimately connected and concerned. It’s their life. Stay tuned for what’s coming.