#Unsettled

Last month, I was driving my fifteen-year-old daughter home from a dance competition when we got into a conversation about some of the dancers on the circuit. My daughter and I always have these deep debriefs after a weekend of dance. It’s on these car rides that we crack open a much larger truth about the world we are living in. We check in with each other mentally; it’s our way of keeping our priorities straight.

In the competitive dance world, there is a distinct culture where some athletes travel the country weekend after weekend, competing relentlessly. It becomes more important than school, more important than life outside the studio, and—in my opinion—more important than family.

As I drove and we exchanged our observations, it hit me just how much pressure we, as parents, are putting on our youth to become the next superstar, the next prodigy, the next big thing.

We have turned childhood into a high-stakes business. Whether it’s youth sports, the arts, or academic games, the pressure to “peak” early is suffocating. It’s so easy to get caught up in the moment—in the “spotlight.”

But here is the reality check we all need to hear: Nobody cares what you did your sophomore year of high school.

When you enter the workforce and step out into the real world, absolutely nobody is checking to see what you got on your tenth-grade science test. Nobody cares about your SAT scores. Nobody cares where that dance placed or if your team won a specific tournament. We have bought into this lie that a standardized test or an early-in-life trophy is an exact representation of who a person is.

That one early accolade does not dictate the final direction of your life.

I look at my own son, who is dyslexic. He has a hard time staying focused on certain school assignments, and he is the first to tell you he isn’t a great test-taker. His standardized test scores weren’t dazzling.

But if you sit down and have a real conversation with him, you immediately see the depth. He’s an outside-the-box thinker. He possesses a rare kind of wisdom for his age—he already knows that this brief, fleeting moment in time is not going to dictate the rest of his life.

Yet, so many people get utterly consumed by the immediate moment. They chase that early fifteen minutes of fame.

But why? Why are we forcing our kids to sprint toward a finish line before they’ve even figured out who they are? Whatever happened to just having fun and letting talent develop naturally?

Like most youth competitive sports, there are some extraordinarily talented young individuals out there. It’s exciting to see that potential at an early age, but sometimes I wonder: at what cost?

I’m at a phase in my life where I’ve watched too many parents project their own unfulfilled dreams onto their children. They push them to be the “GOAT” (Greatest of All Time), and the tragedy is that the child often loses sight of their own identity because they are too busy living out a parent’s script.

Sometimes, that artificial pressure turns into entitlement. The kid gets an ego, becoming arrogant. And the arrogance completely eclipses the actual talent.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I completely understand that those who excel at an extraordinarily high level possess a specific kind of edge. They have a laser focus, an intense confidence, and a level of self-discipline that most ordinary people simply don’t have. You need that to get to the top.

But having an edge is never an excuse to forget humility.

I am lucky enough to have a unique vantage point on this. My father has been in Major League Baseball for over half a century, and he is perhaps one of the most humble men I’ve ever met in my life. He works hard, keeps his head down, and just does the right thing. My husband spent almost two decades as a professional athlete, and he is the exact same way—a genuinely humble human being who never got swept up in the glitz and glamour of the spotlight.

I personally call them “annoyingly humble.”

Both of them spent their entire lives watching people rise to the top at lightning speed, get blinded by their fifteen minutes of fame, and completely lose sight of what actually matters.

They saw firsthand that the spotlight burns out, but character endures.

We need to stop training our kids to peak at seventeen. Let’s teach them to see the bigger picture. Let’s encourage them to work hard, stay humble, and remain accountable to who they are.

Because a life well-lived isn’t about capturing a fleeting moment of internet fame or a high school headline.

Don’t forget to appreciate the ride. “Enjoy the journey,” as my daughter’s studio owner often tells her dancers. Find that peace, stay grounded, and bloom on your own terms.