There’s something curious I’ve noticed over the years.
For an employee to grow, we instinctively know they need a boss who can challenge them — someone who doesn’t just approve work, but stretches thinking, asks uncomfortable questions, and refuses to accept the first obvious answer.
For an athlete to grow, we accept without debate that they need a coach — someone who can push them past their perceived limits, call out weaknesses without softening the message, and still be trusted enough that the athlete keeps showing up the next day.
But when it comes to children — our own children — the dynamic changes completely.
And not because parents don’t care enough.
If anything, it’s because they care too much.
Parents Are Asked to Play Too Many Roles at Once
Parents are expected to be guides.
And protectors.
And cheerleaders.
And disciplinarians.
And emotional safe havens.
All at the same time.
Unlike a boss or a coach, a parent doesn’t get to choose a single role and stay there. Parenting happens in the small, leftover pockets of time — after work, between responsibilities, in moments that are meant to be light, joyful, connective.
So parents want to be pleasant to be around.
They want to be the people their kids look forward to spending time with — not the source of pressure, anxiety, or judgment.
And this becomes even more pronounced with grandparents, who often feel their role is to only bring comfort, stories, indulgence, and unconditional warmth.
Which raises an unspoken tension:
If I use this limited time to push, challenge, or question… will I lose the closeness?
The Fear Beneath the Silence
Another layer runs even deeper — and it’s rarely acknowledged openly.
Many parents are not fully confident in their understanding of modern academics, careers, or pathways.
The world their children are growing into looks nothing like the one they prepared for.
Subjects have changed.
Careers have fragmented.
Success paths are no longer linear.
And unlike the workplace — where adults routinely say “Let me get back to you” or “I’ll figure this out” or even confidently wing an answer — parenting feels like a high-stakes environment.
Parents fear misinformation more than ignorance.
So instead of exploring uncertainty together, they either:
- give definitive answers they’re not fully sure about, or
- avoid the conversation altogether
Because when it comes to children, guessing feels irresponsible.
And silence feels safer than being wrong.
This Isn’t Unique to Parenting
Interestingly, the same pattern shows up at work.
A manager and a subordinate can talk freely about tasks, projects, and execution.
But the moment the conversation shifts to:
- compensation
- performance
- growth trajectory
- expectations
The air changes.
Suddenly, everything feels loaded.
That’s why organisations introduce HR, recruiters, compensation frameworks, and structured review systems — not because managers don’t care, but because some conversations need a container.
A neutral space. Clear boundaries. Defined red lines. Room for negotiation without emotional spillover.
Parenting Lacks That Container
Parents love their children unconditionally.
But they hesitate to say it explicitly — especially in conversations about academics and careers — because they worry it might lead to complacency.
They fear creating a cushioned environment where children stop striving, stop stretching, stop developing resilience.
So they oscillate between:
- being overly supportive, or
- becoming suddenly directive
Neither of which feels quite right.
And the child senses this inconsistency.
They sense the anxiety beneath the advice. The hesitation beneath the authority. The love that doesn’t quite know how to speak clearly.
Why These Conversations Feel So Heavy
Academics and careers are not just topics.
They carry:
- parental hopes
- unresolved regrets
- social comparisons
- fears of financial insecurity
- concerns about relevance and dignity
When a parent talks about a child’s future, they’re often also confronting their own past and present.
And that’s a lot to hold — for both sides.
Which is why these conversations either turn emotional very quickly…
or never really begin at all.
The Role of a Third Person
This is where I strongly believe something important is missing.
Parents don’t need to abdicate responsibility.
They don’t need to become distant.
But they do need help creating a space where:
- difficult truths can be explored safely
- uncertainty is allowed
- expectations are clarified without emotional escalation
A third person — mentor, coach, counselor, guide — changes the geometry of the conversation.
They don’t replace the parent’s love.
They don’t override the parent’s values.
They create structure.
Just like HR does in organisations.
Just like coaches do in sport.
And in that structure, parents and children can finally talk with each other, not at each other.
What Children Actually Need
Children don’t need parents who have all the answers.
They need parents who can say:
- “I don’t know — let’s figure this out together.”
- “I love you regardless — and I still expect you to grow.”
- “This is hard to talk about — and it matters enough that we should try.”
Growth doesn’t come from pressure alone. Nor from comfort alone.
It comes from environments where challenge and safety coexist.
A Question Worth Sitting With
Perhaps the real question isn’t:
Why don’t kids listen when we talk about academics and careers?
But rather:
Have we created a space where these conversations can exist without threatening the relationship itself?
Until that space exists — supported, structured, and emotionally neutral — silence will continue to feel safer than honesty.
And avoidance will quietly replace guidance.