Looking back, I had a very traditional 1970s childhood: lots of time just playing, watching too much TV and eating convenience food. My mum was - and still is - the absolute opposite to a pushy Mum. She wanted her children by her side, that was always enough for her; she didn’t have ambitions to launch us in any direction. I can’t remember when she so much as nagged me to do homework (in fairness, she didn’t have to, I was a swot). In fact, when I was revising for exams, she would beg me to stop and watch some TV because she thought I was doing too much!
I’m not saying Mum didn’t have ambitions for me, she did. She often told me that I could do anything I wanted; I could be an astronaut, an engineer, an actress or a brain surgeon but she never offered any guidelines as to how this might be achieved.
So if she didn’t push me, what did she do? Well, I was gifted an electric typewriter when I was 11, because I’d said I wanted to be a writer. Besides that, three things come to mind. One, she loved me unconditionally. Two, she taught me that working hard and trying were important. Three (intentionally or not), she gave me time to get thoroughly bored and to discover self-reliance. All valuable skills in increasing self-sufficiency, a key to success.
So my plan was to parent in a similar way, but goodness what a challenge. Times had changed. When my son was growing up, allowing a child to be bored, was (for the middle classes at least) seen as tantamount to abuse. On several occasions, I was challenged by other parents about my decision to have three nights a week that were for essential homework and then play only; no structured extracurricular. I remember one mother asking me, ‘How do you justify that?’ Keep in mind that four days a week my son attended football practice, fencing classes, Beavers and guitar lessons. At the same time, my mother was horrified at how much I expected of him, she was certain he’d burn out by the time he was a teen.
All around me, parents drove the length and breadth of the country to take their children to elite sports meets or sailing clubs, they facilitated lessons in Mandarin - but they didn’t let them get bored and kick their heels, muck around in mud piles or streams, (at least not without seeing it as a useful educational opportunity to talk zooplankton and the breeding habits of damselflies). I was accused of wasting his time and potential.
Like almost every aspect of parenting, it was tricky to know if I was doing the right thing; too much or not enough? There were some dreadful moments of self-doubt and regret, as my confidence in my "lo-fi" childhood, dipped but overall, I remained resolute in my plan to let my son find his own strengths and stride.
He’s 25 now and an incredible linguist, historian and adventurous traveller. Who knew that messing about making Hama-bead flags might lead to an interest in different cultures? He’s extremely self-motivated, structured and resilient, he’s also intellectually curious. So on my sample of one, I believe in the merits of boredom. I think we need down-times so we can process, create and grow. Devices and structured activities around-the-clock kill that opportunity. I don’t know, I’m just putting it out there, maybe life should be fun, ideally for us all - but certainly for children.
Eyes On You by Adele Parks (HQ) is out now
