Q. My teen son has been playing soccer since he was 6, and he’s become pretty good, making the high school team. But he wasn’t a starter last fall, and now he’s talking about quitting. Meanwhile, his little sister is deep into gymnastics and swimming, and she’s talking about giving up piano. I feel like if I let them walk away, they’ll regret it later. What do you think?
JEFF: It sure can bring out the despot in a parent when a kid wants to quit, right? The only time I feel justified in my authoritarian tendencies, though, is when my children try to weasel out of their household duties. (“No, Rebecca, you can’t quit setting the table when it’s your night . . . if you want to eat dinner!’’) But when we’re talking extracurricular activities, not chores, I try to resist putting my foot down. I’ll feel better about myself afterward if I take a step back and look at the big picture. And breathe.
How much is going on in the child’s life? Is homework eating up her free time? Is the activity he wants to quit the only one of its kind in his weekly routine? I’d be less bothered if the questioner’s daughter wanted to drop either gymnastics or swimming, because they’re both physical activities. My wife and I like our kids to maintain some balance of exercise and arts. So if the girl no longer wants to play piano, might she prefer picking up another instrument rather than letting the music die?
When my son tired of classical violin, for instance, we got another year out of him by switching to fiddle lessons. Eventually he went, “Hey, wait a second,’’ but even then we just persuaded him to move on to a different section of the orchestra. Now he’s a trumpeter, he’s loving it, and my wife and I are thrilled he still has music in his life. (The neighbors? They’re adjusting.)
KATHY: Oh, how I’ve fiddled around on the subject of quitting! At first, when my kids quit something, it made me uncomfortable, because am I not supposed to teach them perseverance? My daughter really had quite the quits for a while — short stints with basketball, softball, piano, and dance, which made my husband and I fret she had an inherent lack of stick-to-it-tivenesss.
We had firm rules here: We never let her quit before the season was over (since that was letting down her teammates) and we insisted she had to do an after-school activity. We also considered the big picture? She wasn’t a “quitter’’ by nature; she’s a stickler on grades and homework, for instance.
Finally, when she turned 11, she found her passion — acting and improv — and I realized that “quitting’’ hadn’t been the right lens. It was more like she was trying on clothing until she found the right fit. I’ll get to the questioner’s son (hey, we all gotta ride the bench). But as to the daughter, might she be telling you she’s tried on something and would like to put it back on the rack?
JEFF: Yeah, well, in the Life Lesson Boutique, our job is to be the salesperson helping our kid button the garment all the way. I mean, there’s trying on and there’s trying on. Activities don’t always seem like a perfect fit right away. Some need to be lived in for?a while. Some require stretching — but our kids usually can use a good stretch.
The parental sweet spot, I think, is somewhere between insisting that our kids take on an activity more stimulating than texting their friends, and insisting our kids take on an activity that stimulates us. I played soccer in college, and for years I pushed my kids into that sport over others. My wife the classical musician wasn’t too keen on folk guitar lessons. But gradually, reluctantly, we’ve let go of the puppet strings, and by some miracle these young humans we carved out of wood are standing on their own.
And doing stuff they love. And they don’t want to quit.
KATHY: Aren’t we such good therapists Jeff? Such eager empathizers, such vital validaters. But no more Mr. Nice Guy: I’m hard-core that the questioner’s son should not quit the soccer team. It’s a matter of nearing adulthood, really. Once you get to high school, it’s an honor to be chosen for the team, because so many kids don’t make it. You make it — then you make the best of it.
Maybe the obstacle is a lack of imagination, so I’d spell out all the potential scenarios here. He works hard and becomes a starter. Or he shines when he’s subbed in. Or a spot opens up if another player has a slump, gets injured, or graduates.
But quit now, and you quit these opportunities. Brett Favre threw all of four passes in his first season in the NFL. Lou Gehrig batted only 42 times his first two years. In short, the world is full of great athletes who warmed the bench before they heated up the game. And so, young soccer player, I say that the only thing you should quit (and I mean this in the nicest way) is your whining.
Jeff Wagenheim and Katharine Whittemore were founding editors at the parenting magazine Wondertime. Whittemore now writes the “Four Takes’’ book review column for the Globe. Wagenheim writes about sports for the Globe, The Washington Post, and Sports Illustrated. Send parenting questions to parenting.globe@gmail .com
