When I was a child, back in the relatively halcyon days of the 1990s, I had my fair share of angst – friendship problems, homework, sibling rivalry and appalling fashion sense. But one thing remained clear and stable: the advice I was given on how to achieve the best possible life.
In those pre-digital days, this was imparted by a few trusted adults: teachers, relatives and parents. And it rarely wavered from “get a good education, choose a good career and climb the ladder”. There was an implicit understanding that if you jumped through the accepted hoops between childhood and adulthood then success and happiness would be your reward.
These days things are less clearcut. The path to perceived success is muddied, and the route to financial stability and potential happiness less clear. House prices have soared and it’s more difficult than ever for first-time buyers to make it on to the property ladder. The current financial crisis has led to an increase in job insecurity; and with the pension age looking set to rise over the years, a comfortable retirement is far from guaranteed.
So, as parents, what should we do? It seems wrong to act as if the world hasn’t changed, or to encourage our children to aim for something that may be practically out of reach. But without goals and dreams to fuel the fire of their ambition, how can our children find the motivation they need to push forward?
Recently, my 13-year-old began to question why she must attend school and study subjects that don’t interest her. How can I tell her she must go into school each day, when two years ago she was told to stay at home for her own safety? How can I tell her that without education she may not get a “good” job when – after my own experience – I’m no longer sure what a “good job” should look like. Is it one that nets a higher income? Or that offers personal fulfilment? And with AI on the horizon, will the jobs she might be interested in even exist in five years’ time?Plus, how can she look to the future at all when we’re racing towards a climate emergency and war is raging close to home?
In my childhood, my only real knowledge of news was gleaned from the gentle reporting of John Craven’s Newsround, so much so that when a classmate told me her pilot father was off to Baghdad during the Gulf war, I just assumed it was somewhere dads sometimes went. While my children don’t generally read or watch news, somehow it filters through. (“I hate that bully,” my son recently remarked on glancing at a screen in a restaurant while waiting for a takeaway. I was about to admonish him, until I turned to see Kim Jong-un.)
But perhaps I ought to remove the rose-tinted glasses through which I view my own childhood. Yes, I was given a feeling of stability – but the one-size-fits-all advice didn’t serve me well as I grew. After eight years of teaching, I suffered complete burnout and started a new life in France. The experience helped me redefine my idea of “success”.
I learned that no job is more important than your mental health; that money, while desirable, doesn’t solve all problems. Moving to France – where property prices are lower – gave me financial breathing space, and I was able to build a freelance career. The payoff has been amazing – I now do what I enjoy, set my own hours and never experience the “Sunday night dread” that used to poison the last hours of my weekend.
My five children were all born here – they have never known parents who disappear at the crack of dawn and mark exercise books long into the night. Instead, they see a father who is rarely without a paintbrush, and a mum who beavers away on the computer in her home office (which, to their mind, as I’m on a screen, isn’t “work” at all). I’d rather model a version of a balanced and happy life than give my children stable, unwavering advice about their futures that will probably turn out to be wrong.
Plus, not all changes have been bad: jobs are becoming more flexible, and younger generations are questioning the idea that work must be relentless. Importantly, while the route to wealth creation may be harder to navigate, talking about and prioritising mental health is no longer taboo. (When I was signed off work with depression at 24, my doctor offered to put something else on the note so that I wouldn’t be stigmatised.)
Perhaps, then, I am able to offer better advice than the narrow route to a “good life” offered in my own childhood. Perhaps I can teach my children not to aim for monetary success in isolation but instead consider what it might mean to be fulfilled, content and fully rounded. Education is still of the utmost importance, but so are relationships, leisure time, sport and gaining an understanding of the world around them.
The path is no longer clear, but maybe the edges aren’t muddied after all. Perhaps the path has simply widened, to fit a different kind of life, with different goals and different measures. And maybe we can help our kids to find their own route to “success”, whatever that means for them – not just in terms of career, but contentment, security, mental fitness and living well.
Gillian Harvey is a freelance writer and mother of five living in France, and author of One French Summer
