It was the violin practice, in the end, that broke me. I hung on, last year, through clashing after-school activities entailing frantic cab rides between venues so we were never there on time. I sucked up complaints from my children who would have rather been at home. I put down amazing amounts of money to furnish them with useful skills (official rationalisation) and (actual case) avoid having to watch them in the playground. “This is a hostile environment,” I muttered after the first day of term, as 500 kids converged on the park near the school. The mum standing next to me looked around in alarm. “Oh, sorry. I just meant I guess I didn’t miss it.” And then, two weeks ago, I quit everything cold.
A lot has been written about parental overinvestment in extracurricular activities, and the anxiety that underpins it. Happiness isn’t strictly the goal. We can talk about enabling our children by helping them identify their passions – such a wily phrase – but under the age of about 10, what we’re really referring to is competitive advantage. “Passions” in children at this age are largely transient, cultivated and massaged by parents. Left to themselves, my children’s passions are playing Roblox, watching Henry Danger and writing each other spiteful little notes. How is any of that going to help them when all the jobs become AI?
