Understanding parental pressure on students
Published: 03:10 PM,Oct 21,2024 | EDITED : 07:10 PM,Oct 21,2024
Does parental love mean that we truly understand what suits our children best.
On the occasion of the Omani Women's Day, several schools encouraged female students to 'dress up for their future careers' for a day.
Although she has shown a natural talent in entrepreneurism, gaming, and playing the piano, at the moment, my daughter wants to become a chef and hopes to undergo future training at a five-star restaurant in Paris. Hence, she chose her outfit accordingly. 'I think many kids will show up as doctors wearing scrubs or as lawyers dressed in suits,' she thought out loud while preparing for the special event.
When she returned home from school that day, my daughter was happy that few other girls turned out to have an interest in pursuing a culinary career as well. She also told us about having to comfort a student who had been crying at the playground. 'Mama, baba, this girl told us that her parents had forced her to wear a doctor's costume but she said she wants to become an artist! Maskeena!'
Having worked for what was then known as the Ministry of Higher Education, I had already heard and witnessed similar parental pressure stories, albeit all involving young school graduates. I am treading carefully here as I do realise that we, as parents with good intentions, want the best for our children, including in view of their future financial security. From years of experience, I also learned that young minds need guidance when navigating possible career pathways, especially considering today's many options and distractions.
But does this parental love mean that we truly understand what suits our children best, or are we consciously or subconsciously projecting our dreams on them? Do we realise that everyone has a unique talent and purpose but that “if you try and teach a fish to climb a tree, it will always feel like a failure?”
For example, my mother was a talented ballerina, and my father graduated cum laude in Physics at a very young age. Bravo, but that does not automatically mean that you will see me or my child performing at the Royal Opera House or becoming a brilliant engineer.
Also, do we want our children to become doctors, lawyers or engineers because of the social status attached to these professions, the high income, or both? Do we want them to do something they love, or do we consider this to be a ‘luxury for dreamers’?
Do we understand the diverse requirements of the ever-changing economy and, thus, the job market well enough to advise our kids properly? We often seem to think we know our children better than anyone, but do we beat a more objective aptitude test conducted by professionals and the valuable experience that derives from job shadowing and internships?
A couple of years ago, I kept running into two mothers at every major higher education exhibition held in the country. Both of them were highly successful Omani doctors who have undoubtedly added much value to society. However, they never brought their children to any of these events – instead, they were ‘shopping’ for them.
One of these ladies' daughters was selected for a scholarship to study Biomedicine. She ended up excelling in her field, while anyone with a degree in Biomedical Sciences usually still has the option to study medicine at the graduate level. However, the mum, not the student, kept on requesting to change the area of specialisation.
I also sat in on interviews conducted by reputed medical schools with Omani students, during which a few suitable candidates ‘self-selected’ themselves. They did not perform well on purpose. One day, I witnessed a distressed father insisting that his daughter continue to study medicine on a scholarship even though she failed in all subjects. And, probably, the worst case involved a girl ending up in a mental health institute because of being pushed by her family to study something that did not suit her.
Of course, these stories are exceptions as I am still in touch with many students who successfully pursued medicine because they love helping people, and our nation will always need good doctors. I also know students whose mums or dads are famous doctors but were allowed to pursue a different careers.
Overall, we should recognise that parental involvement in decisions regarding their children’s higher education seems to be a common practice. One that could lead to very positive results for most students, while a few others end up being ‘victims’, not victors, because of improper selections that did not suit them.
Although she has shown a natural talent in entrepreneurism, gaming, and playing the piano, at the moment, my daughter wants to become a chef and hopes to undergo future training at a five-star restaurant in Paris. Hence, she chose her outfit accordingly. 'I think many kids will show up as doctors wearing scrubs or as lawyers dressed in suits,' she thought out loud while preparing for the special event.
When she returned home from school that day, my daughter was happy that few other girls turned out to have an interest in pursuing a culinary career as well. She also told us about having to comfort a student who had been crying at the playground. 'Mama, baba, this girl told us that her parents had forced her to wear a doctor's costume but she said she wants to become an artist! Maskeena!'
Having worked for what was then known as the Ministry of Higher Education, I had already heard and witnessed similar parental pressure stories, albeit all involving young school graduates. I am treading carefully here as I do realise that we, as parents with good intentions, want the best for our children, including in view of their future financial security. From years of experience, I also learned that young minds need guidance when navigating possible career pathways, especially considering today's many options and distractions.
But does this parental love mean that we truly understand what suits our children best, or are we consciously or subconsciously projecting our dreams on them? Do we realise that everyone has a unique talent and purpose but that “if you try and teach a fish to climb a tree, it will always feel like a failure?”
For example, my mother was a talented ballerina, and my father graduated cum laude in Physics at a very young age. Bravo, but that does not automatically mean that you will see me or my child performing at the Royal Opera House or becoming a brilliant engineer.
Also, do we want our children to become doctors, lawyers or engineers because of the social status attached to these professions, the high income, or both? Do we want them to do something they love, or do we consider this to be a ‘luxury for dreamers’?
Do we understand the diverse requirements of the ever-changing economy and, thus, the job market well enough to advise our kids properly? We often seem to think we know our children better than anyone, but do we beat a more objective aptitude test conducted by professionals and the valuable experience that derives from job shadowing and internships?
A couple of years ago, I kept running into two mothers at every major higher education exhibition held in the country. Both of them were highly successful Omani doctors who have undoubtedly added much value to society. However, they never brought their children to any of these events – instead, they were ‘shopping’ for them.
One of these ladies' daughters was selected for a scholarship to study Biomedicine. She ended up excelling in her field, while anyone with a degree in Biomedical Sciences usually still has the option to study medicine at the graduate level. However, the mum, not the student, kept on requesting to change the area of specialisation.
I also sat in on interviews conducted by reputed medical schools with Omani students, during which a few suitable candidates ‘self-selected’ themselves. They did not perform well on purpose. One day, I witnessed a distressed father insisting that his daughter continue to study medicine on a scholarship even though she failed in all subjects. And, probably, the worst case involved a girl ending up in a mental health institute because of being pushed by her family to study something that did not suit her.
Of course, these stories are exceptions as I am still in touch with many students who successfully pursued medicine because they love helping people, and our nation will always need good doctors. I also know students whose mums or dads are famous doctors but were allowed to pursue a different careers.
Overall, we should recognise that parental involvement in decisions regarding their children’s higher education seems to be a common practice. One that could lead to very positive results for most students, while a few others end up being ‘victims’, not victors, because of improper selections that did not suit them.