My parents refused to intervene. It remains one of their most enduring, precious gifts to me.

How strict parental non-intervention led to the good things in my life today.

I had occasion to be thinking recently about the amazing gift my parents gave me by refusing to intervene or get involved in my life as as a child. They obviously fed me, clothed me, took me to the doctor, followed up on my schoolwork, etc. But when it came to problems that I could/should solve on my own, they simply would not intervene. It turns out this was an incredibly powerful gift.

Once upon a time, there was a tragically awkward boy in middle school. 

He didn’t have a whole lot going for him.

This was actually one of my better pictures—and even the parrot didn’t like me.

I was dumpy, awkward, and not good at anything, especially athletics. I had some friends, but we I realize now, as I look back on it, that it wasn’t so much that we were close. Rather, we hadn’t quite found our new people in middle school, so we still clumped up together as we had done in elementary school.

I had major ADHD which was unknown back then. Consequently, I was disorganized. I constantly lost papers and forgot assignments. My bad grades at school led to conflict at home. This created a constant state of anxiety and stress for me, both at home and at school.

Because of all this, there were a lot of ways people could make fun of me–and they did, often. I was rather a target-rich environment for such things.

However, I had at least one thing going for me, one massive advantage: My parents loved me enough that they refused to intervene in my life. 

When I had social problems with peers, my mom very kindly insisted that I work them out. She likewise insisted I address my academic problems with my teachers and other adults, even when it was very difficult.

My mom gave me another gift: she did not allow herself to be my chauffeur. She had her own work to do. So, when I wanted to go to the mall or the bookstore or the exotic pet store or anywhere else, I rode the bus. I had learned to do that, and I could around very efficiently and quickly, an hour or so in each way.

When I was 15, I got the crazy idea to direct a play. I’d never done such a thing. But against all evidence, I believed I could. 

Ironically, I was insecure in many ways, but I’d had enough experience managing my life that I just knew I wanted to and it didn’t occur to me that it might be a disaster.

I had to meet with the principal of the school and pitch the idea to him. I had to work with nearly all of the school’s teachers. I had a cast of 100 and I had to work with those kids and their parents.

It turned out, this wasn’t very hard. My mom’s insistence on dealing with teachers and authority figures paid off for me in a big way. I found I worked with adults very easily. 

In my small town, it was new and very radical for a 15 year old boy to direct a play. I faced a lot of snickering and doubts, even outright mockery, from peers as well as adults.

I didn’t like it, but I had learned to face it down. In middle school, I had grown learned important coping skills. I’d learned to let things roll off my back. I’d learned to ignore people. Thus, those mocking voices no longer had power over me.

I remember realizing with a lot of excitement one day that the people who liked me the least no longer got a vote in my life, in what I did or didn’t do. I defied them, consciously, and it was wonderfully empowering.

Because I was only 15, I didn’t have a driver’s license. But that was no problem. I was able to ride the bus to go buy costumes and props and so on.

The play turned out to be wonderful. Perhaps I was the beneficiary of low expectations. But it was a magical, fun, really memorable night. Live theatre is like that sometimes: you just feel that you are connecting with the audience. They laugh when they are supposed to and they clap when you hope they would. There’s just a very palpable energy that was there for four nights of the show. I believe we received a standing ovation each night, much to my shock and delight.

Speaking of shock, here I am after the curtain call on opening night, I’m being congratulated by the principal, who was truly shocked–everyone was.

That play led to a very well-paid job for me throughout high school. More importantly, it connected me to deep and lasting friendships. It instilled an enormous degree of confidence in myself. It gave me a way to learn how to not be a leader, which eventually helped me learn how to do it better. It was a creative outlet that led to a scholarship for college, and, began a straight line to what I do today, a job which has been a source of fulfillment to me, as well as a livelihood. It’s allowed me to feel that I contributing and providing something important, in turn, for many talented young adolescents.

I am deeply grateful that my parents loved me enough not to intervene. This proved to be one of their most precious, lasting gifts to me. They thought I could and should manage my life–and, against all odds, I did. 

Perhaps, there were times my parents might have intervened a bit more—times when a teacher was unfair, for example. In a perfect world that might be the case. And I do believe parents must intervene in actual bullying.

But the thing about intervening is that once you start, it’s habit forming and it is really, really hard to stop. Once you let that horse out of the barn, it is enormously hard to get it back.

If parent and child become at all used to parental intervening, then backing away starts to feel cruel and even negligent. It takes tremendous self-discipline to only intervene a little.

So, I remain deeply grateful that my parents just didn’t believe in jumping in and getting involved.

The world today is uncertain and complicated. Now, more than ever, in order to achieve their fullest potential, our children need time to practice developing strength, resilience, and competence in running their own lives. 

So many parents I know will resist intervention until things are really rough, and then they feel they simply have to jump in. But that presumes that there will ever be a time in life when things don’t get really rough and if we just help them now, they will one day manage their own lives.

But I very much fear many of us are not giving them a chance to practice and build that strength and competence, not to mention confidence, along the way.

The good news is that life presents a tailor-made curriculum. Allowing them to address their 4th grade problems builds skills that will allow them to address their 6th grade problems, which empowers them to manage 8th grade and so on.

If you think about it, we’re not raising 8th graders or 10th graders–we’re raising adults who are currently in 8th or 10th grade.

There will never be a better year to start this. Don’t bail your child out. Don’t do their work for them. Don’t reflexively intervene. 

There may certainly be times they need your help, but that shouldn’t be the default. There may be times when the school needs to help as well.

But start with the assumption that your child can likely do more than you might think.

You might be surprised what your child is capable of and what an enduring gift you will be giving them.

Happy parenting! You’ve got this—especially since this wonderful collection of triumphs and tragedies called life will help your child learn, so you don’t have to do it all alone! Just don’t insulate them from these lessons.

Best,

Braden