I recently received a call from a mother, a doctor, who wanted me to give her names of elementary schools in the area. After offering a list of public and private schools without suggesting which was best, I was then asked what I thought the best way to prepare her child for our school. I’ve learned from experience that this is essentially what we call the “red flag” question. To translate: ‘Which school will guarantee my child will qualify for your school.’ Of course, there is no such school since every school has its own strengths and philosophy about the ends of education but I was curious:

“How old is your child?”
“Oh, she’s four.”
“Four?”
“Yes, I want to be sure she’s best prepared.”

For what, I was thinking. “But, we are talking ten years from now. How could one possibly prepare for a school that might look completely different by then?” I knew what was coming so I continued, “I would hope that you simply let your child learn to play. Read to her. Let her dance. Encourage the joy of learning something new in the sandbox. Play music for her. Take her to the zoo but please do not push reading lessons on her or have her begin math tutorials.”

“But I have had her with a reading tutor since 3.”

She went on to tell me that all the educators she has heard have given her the same advice but that her friends have given her different advice. That of course begs the question, “Why would one lean on your friends who have no expertise in the field rather than listen to the experts?” She had no answer and we left the conversation at that. I am convinced I made no difference in her plans.

What has happened out there? I grew up in a time when one went home after school and played touch football in the street. I learned to love reading because my father would answer my many questions with “Well, let’s look that up.” And into the encyclopedia we went. That was followed by trips to the library where I was left to read anything I wanted. There were no Kumon classes; no standardized test preparation. When I learned to play the drums, I was allowed to spend hours in my basement attempting to duplicate the rock rhythms of the Beatles or the Rolling Stones. I did not have to achieve level five or six or whatever is being sold out there to our budding pianists. I learned to love music because I was allowed to explore it as a distinct passion. My father put the drumsticks in my hand and let me take it from there.

My father was the supreme skater, a hockey player of enormous skill, but his attempts to teach me to skate were met with my inability to enjoy falling on a frozen lake over and over again. He never pushed me and when I found I could run fast for great distances, he would show up at my races, smile and leave it at that. We never discussed whether this was an activity that might get me a college scholarship (It didn’t). He never insisted he meet with the coach to go over my training strategies or wonder if someday the Olympics were in my future. To this day, at the age of 59, I still love to run simply for the sake of running.

So what does this have to do with our misguided doctor? Well, I am sad to say that she is not out of the ordinary. My admission officers interview as many as four hundred high school applicants every year and we are struck by how over-programmed are these candidates. It’s as if every child is expected to build a resume that will lead to some distant promise land that, in fact, may not exist. And I am convinced these children have no idea of what’s happening to them. Could it be true that, perhaps, three quarters of all children are learning to play piano? Well, of course, I may be wrong and there is nothing wrong with that. But ask them if they just love to clink around the piano or improvise or just do it all for the love of it. Blank stares. What I am talking about, their eyes say. They are preparing for Royal Academy Level Whatever. Period.

We are seeing students attending after school tutorial sessions on a daily basis not because of some intellectual infirmity but because their parents expect them to get A’s. We have a student in ninth grade who is taking pre-calculus because she’s that strong in math, but what are her parents expecting her to do? She goes to a pre-calculus tutor on Saturdays. We have students attending PSAT prep classes which is a bit absurd because the PSAT is in itself a practice test for the SAT. Why would one take time to prepare for a practice test? And these are ninth graders!

Our good doctor intuitively knew what I was saying perhaps made sense. She had heard it all before from other educators. Yet, she has put her faith in others who know absolutely nothing of which they speak. Why? Well, she wonders, if I or my colleagues are mistaken then her friends’ kids will get the upper hand, that little edge that will lead to that celebrity school or college. In meeting just such a parent our very wise head of school once asked a pointed question, “Well what, then, is the end game?” Stops them every time for they have no answer.

Maybe the answer lies with this generation of children who when they become parents decide they’ve had it with tutors, rote piano lessons, test preparation, soccer at age three. Maybe, just maybe, they will have their child simply go outside and do nothing but play. They’ll be allowed to let their imagination run; climb a tree; sit in the leaves; make a snow angel. And there will be no purpose but the joy of having no purpose. I’d like to see that and, if I am still an admission director, I hope those children come to my school.

Leo Marshall serves as the Director of Admission and Financial Aid at The Webb Schools in Claremont, CA- a coed, boarding school offering grades 9-12.