In defence of letting your kids quit... everything

As a kid, I had to be bribed to go to extra-curriculars that made me miserable. Safe to say, I have some notes. 

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“My six-year-old refuses to do extracurriculars, should I force her?” a mum asked a parenting advice forum recently.

She goes on to detail various activities her primary schooler has taken up, like dancing and roller-skating, only to quit days later when she “doesn’t get it right immediately.”

Her daughter will then gravitate back to things that she likes, such as reading, playing games, and art. 

“SOS, PLEASE HELP?” the mum pleaded to the group before hundreds of fellow parents grappling with the same issue flooded the comments and exchanged advice.

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Image: Supplied

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In defence of quitting

I’m not a parent, so I’m absolutely the last person this mum wants to hear from.

However, I was once a kid—or, as my mum used to call me, “a quitter”—so I feel I have some perspective to offer.

And here it is, even though the Reddit mum definitely won't read this (and I hope my mum won’t either because I know that she had my best intentions at heart.)

She probably thought that if I didn’t do all the extracurriculars as a child, I’d end up as a sad, hobbyless adult with no interests at all.

And I get that fear. But I just don’t think that if that ended up happening, it would be a direct result of me not going to rhythmic gymnastics classes in year three. There would probably be other issues at play that have nothing to do with whether or not I learnt the art of swirling those ribbon sticks when I was eight.

Basically, I don't think forcing your kids to do activities will guarantee that they'll be well-rounded, successful grownups.

I mean, they might not be the next Serena or Venus, but do you really want to be like their dad in that movie with Will Smith? 

Trust me, even without the pressure from you, your kids are going to turn out just fine. 

Because firstly, forcing someone to do something in hopes they'll eventually like it is a losing strategy. Numerous psychology and parenting books support this, but even without them, it just seems obvious, no?

Who knows if I would have liked rhythmic gymnastics had I not been forced into it? 

Perhaps I would have decided I quite liked karate, had my mum not bribed me with Hubba Bubba Grape Tape to get me out the door.

Maybe, and of course I can only say this with the benefit of hindsight, I actively resisted the very activities my parents encouraged me to do as an act of defiance.

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Hobbies are picked up through life

But here’s the thing. Even though my parents couldn't have known it back then, I ended up with more than enough hobbies and life skills because kids don’t just pick these things up from organised extra-curricular activities.

My favourite pastime, which I hold most dearest to me, is hiking and being in the outdoors. 

All my free weekends are spent exploring new trails with my partner or with the hike club that I lead, which has over 70 members. 

And you know what? I dropped Duke Of Edinburgh while I was still at the Bronze level because I couldn’t be bothered to complete the community service part. 

My love of hiking actually rubbed off on me from my parents, who took our family bushwalking every chance they could. It was one of their great loves, and now it’s one of mine. I hope I’ll pass this “extra-curricular” onto my kids too, and compel them to find nature inspiring, and relaxing and interesting and all of the things that the structured nature of the Duke of Ed course failed to instil in me. 

I also love playing the keyboard, singing and keeping my neighbours awake with my not-quite-audience-level voice. It's my comfort place where I go when I'm happy, emotional, or just need a specific form of release in the shape of an Adele ballad. 

And, you guessed it, I also “quit” piano lessons, and “quit” formal singing lessons - the latter of which I probably should have continued, for my neighbour's sake.

But the point is, these lessons didn’t foster my interests; they turned them into chores. Things that could be graded and therefore, feared. 

My love for music ended up coming from the nights around the piano in our home, my sister playing the tambourine, me banging out some rough chords, my mum singing beautifully and my dad not-so-beautifully but trying his best. “Bob Dylan was never in key!” he’d insist.

My love of cooking came from Greek feasts at my grandparents... my love for reading came from my bookworm sister...

I could go on (and I will!)

My love of cycling came from bike-riding holidays and my nerdy love of ping pong came from our family simply having a table set up in our garage.

I now have a table set up in my own garage and hope my kid/s will play ping pong with me one day.

Why does that sound so sad?!

Anyway.

I’ve lost my train of thought now, but I think that brings me to my next point which is - I have ADHD.

It all started to make sense...

It turns out I was never a “quitter”, I just had an undiagnosed brain and, therefore, little patience for things I deemed uninteresting or wasn't immediately good at.

But I didn't know about this, so as a child and well into my 20s, I genuinely believed that I was a quitter because, objectively, I was. 

Thankfully being diagnosed at the ripe old age of 28 helped get rid of some of that internalised shame, along with many other personality traits I misattributed to just being ‘who I am’. 

The thing I came to realise was — there’s no inherent moral value in sticking things out. It's not resilient, in my opinion, or admirable.

You might think that you’re teaching your kid that “they have to do hard things” and “life is full of things you don’t want to do.”

But there are other ways they can learn that lesson, which don't involve you ferrying them between activities or filling up your weekends watching them play a sport you convinced them to “just for the term.”

One obvious example that comes to mind is school. 

Yep, kids learn that they have to do things they don’t want to do when they have to attend a place for six hours a day, five days a week, for 13 years when they’d rather be doing quite literally anything else. 

They get it, and they don’t need another extracurricular to drive the message home. 

Also, when you insist that your child stick with an activity that makes them unhappy, you may inadvertently teach them to stay in bad situations, which, again—I'm no parent, but— doesn't sound safe.

Final thoughts

So, I say, let them be a quitter!

Let them work up the courage to tell you they detest something, and then let them do it all over again. 

Let them pursue their own weird and quirky hobbies, grow out of them and then find new ones. 

Or, let them do nothing!

Chances are they’ll end up seeing Sally, I mean Willow, Luna or Aurora, doing netball and decide they simply must take it up too. 

But in all seriousness, if you give them space, they’ll find their thing. 

I know when my future child, who may or may not inherit my neurospicy brain, tells me they no longer want to continue ping pong lessons and says, ‘that’s your dream, mum, not mine’ like in an angsty high school movie - I’ll let them quit. 

I’ll still tell them they’re a dirty quitter, of course. It’s only right they cop that like I did.

But at the end of the day, I’ll tell them it’s okay.

Because being a quitter just means you're trying lots of things, and eventually, you'll find something you like. 

Then, I’ll gently remind them that the dusty ping-pong table in the garage will always be there for them, if and when they want to return to it. 

Originally published as In defence of letting your kids quit... everything