Do not.

 

The Extraordinary Beauty of an Ordinary Life

There is a small piece of writing by William Martin that begins with a rather unusual piece of advice:

“Do not ask your children to strive for extraordinary lives.”

At first, the sentence seems almost wrong.

Don't we want our children to do well?

Don't we want them to aim high, work hard, excel and make something of themselves?

Of course we do.

But perhaps somewhere along the way, “doing well” became “being exceptional.”

And that change may be costing our children something very precious—the ability simply to be happy.

When childhood becomes a competition

A child barely into the teenage years may already feel that life is a race.

Marks.

Rankings.

Entrance examinations.

Sports.

Music.

Competitions.

Certificates.

Social media.

And then the inevitable comparison:

“Look at what he has achieved.”

“She is already doing so well.”

“You must work harder.”

Even when parents mean well, the message can slowly become:

“You are valuable when you succeed.”

And a young mind is not always equipped to carry that burden.

We hear increasingly about anxiety, loneliness, emotional distress and depression among young people. We should be careful not to reduce these complex problems to parental pressure alone—there are many causes. But surely we must ask ourselves whether our definition of success has become too narrow.

Perhaps we have forgotten the ordinary

The poem offers a wonderfully simple alternative.

Teach a child to enjoy the taste of a tomato, an apple or a pear.

Teach them to notice the rain.

Let them play without every activity having a purpose.

Let them know the pleasure of sitting beside someone they love.

Let them cry when a pet dies.

Let them experience disappointment without immediately rescuing them from it.

Let them help someone who needs help.

Let them discover that a quiet evening with family can be as memorable as winning a prize.

Because these are not insignificant things.

These are the things from which a life is actually made.

We should teach children to live, not merely to achieve

There is nothing wrong with ambition.

We should encourage children to work hard, pursue excellence and discover their abilities.

But ambition should be a part of life, not the definition of life.

A child who becomes a brilliant doctor but cannot enjoy a morning with his family has missed something.

A child who wins every competition but is terrified of failure has not necessarily succeeded.

A young person who enters a prestigious university but believes that one examination determines his worth is carrying a burden no teenager should have to carry.

Perhaps the better question is not:

“How successful will my child become?”

but:

“Will my child know how to live?”

Will they know how to make a friend?

How to lose gracefully?

How to say sorry?

How to appreciate what they have?

How to face failure without feeling that they themselves are failures?

How to sit quietly without a screen?

How to enjoy an ordinary meal?

How to care for another person?

How to laugh?

How to grieve?

How to begin again?

These are also forms of education.

The wisdom of our own tradition

This is where ancient Indian wisdom has something profound to say.

The Bhagavad Gita does not tell us that our worth lies in the result we achieve. It teaches us to perform our duty sincerely without making the fruits of action the sole measure of our life.

योगस्थः कुरु कर्माणि

saṅgaṁ tyaktvā dhanañjaya

“Established in equanimity, perform your action.”

The lesson is not “don't strive.”

It is:

Strive—but don't let the result become your identity.

That distinction may be particularly important for the young.

Let children have a childhood

Perhaps we should occasionally put away the timetable, the comparison and the constant pressure to improve.

Take a walk with them.

Eat a mango together.

Listen to their stories—even the silly ones.

Allow them to be bored.

Let them make mistakes.

Let them discover something without being taught.

And sometimes, instead of asking:

“What did you achieve today?”

ask:

“What made you happy today?”

Or simply:

“Tell me about your day.”

And listen.

No correction.

No comparison.

No lecture.

Just listen.

Because a child who knows that he or she is loved even when nothing has been achieved that day has already been given something far more valuable than another certificate.

And perhaps the extraordinary will take care of itself

The beautiful thought in William Martin's piece is that we don't have to manufacture extraordinary children.

Give them curiosity.

Give them values.

Give them affection.

Give them resilience.

Give them the freedom to fail.

Give them the ability to appreciate simple things.

Give them a secure place to return to.

And then let them discover who they are.

Some may become scientists.

Some artists.

Some doctors.

Some entrepreneurs.

Some teachers.

Some may achieve things nobody expected.

And some may simply become good, kind, contented human beings.

That too is a remarkable achievement.

Perhaps our greatest responsibility as parents and grandparents is not to ensure that our children live extraordinary lives.

It is to ensure that they never become so busy chasing an extraordinary life that they fail to notice the extraordinary beauty of an ordinary one.

The extraordinary will take care of itself.