Meredith Sjoberg, PhD

Many teens in high-achieving high schools have all sorts of support at their fingertips, whether it’s from the school or from their parents. Resources abound and are quick to be implemented when there is an issue. Seems wonderful, right? And having been in a role that offered support, I deeply believe that it is often helpful, warranted, and sometimes even life-saving.

But I wonder about how much support is offered and how long it’s kept in place. What’s the sweet spot here so we don’t under-do it or over-do it? The risk of under-doing it seems clear, but there’s also a risk of over-doing it. It actually makes me think of teaching kids to ride a bike. Please note that there are lots of methods out there, but I tried the “old-school, hold the back of the bike so they don’t wobble and run along with them as far as you can” method. Spoiler alert: it didn’t work and I tore some ligaments. The good news? My kid did, in fact, learn to ride a bike despite my weak ankle. And, that method has worked for countless others. But I digress.

If we think of holding the back of the bike as support, it is often a comforting and stabilizing presence for the person on the bike. And they get a sense of what it feels like to ride. But are they really riding a bike if it’s being held? Should we hold on forever? Just keep supporting them so they can “go places” on a bike and feel like they are riding one? How do we transition to letting go so they can ride on their own? We know we can’t develop resilience without struggle. We know they need to wobble and right themselves. They need to fall and get back up. We know this. And it can’t happen if we keep holding the back of the bike.

But it’s also not a full letting go. It’s a gradual transition that first involves less gripping and a looser hold. It passes the control from us to them. It’s empowering. Because it seems clear that they’ll feel more confident if they can ride by themselves. And they’ll also be able to go much further than they could’ve imagined.