Spelling Bees and Gymnasts' Knees

Well, the national spelling bee is finally over. I know a lot of you out there were following it pretty closely. You were all worried when Anurag Kashyap had to spell “sphygmomanometer,” but there was no need. He was a rock.

I’m fascinated by the things we do to our children. For those of you who haven’t seen Spellbound, do. There’s also another film that just came out called Mad Hot Ballroom. It’s about a ballroom dancing competition for children in New York, and it looks like it is really good too.

I’ve tried to figure out why I’m so enthralled by these things. I’m so very drawn in by the amazing things that children can do when they are allowed/encouraged/pushed/forced to do them. Miniature girls can twist themselves into pretzels and win a gold medal. Conveniently tall kids can weave through a crowded basketball court with grace. Chess Champions, quiz kids, athletes, pianists and polyglots – the ability for the young to mold or be molded is nothing short of miraculous.

What makes the scene even more absorbing is the ‘be molded’ part. The parents of these prodigies are sometimes more terrifying than I can easily come to terms with. I can be comfortable with my extreme distaste for the beauty queen who dolls her 4-year old up child and shoves her in front of a crowd for some pageant. Do we really live in a world where we need beauty pageants for four-year olds?

Similarly, I find it difficult to get behind those parents who ‘played ball’ in high school and decide to live vicariously through their child by trying to make them into super-athletes. I was lucky enough to play sports when I was younger while having the complete support of my parents, but they only wanted me to play because I wanted to, or in any case, that is how I saw it at the time, which may be just as important. Some of the players on my teams weren’t as lucky. Even the parents who don’t snap and take a baseball bat to the coach can be just as cruel emotionally.

So I end up with such admiration for the children who achieve, but always, in the back of my head, I wonder if they really chose to do what they do. In an extreme example, to be an Olympic gymnast, especially for the girls, you must start early. Some gyms will start training your child at one or two years old! Luckily, the US Gymnastics team, at least their trampoline team, waits until they are six years old before recruiting.

I realize that I’m skirting hyperbole here, but the point is: can a six year old really make these decisions? can a seven-year old? Eight? At what point in maturity (and I do believe that age is not necessarily a good measure of maturity) are we able to dedicate our lives to something? I’m asking because I honestly don’t know. It boils down to a simple question that gets asked in all sorts of other contexts: if they can’t make those choices, then should we just come to terms with parents designing their children, or should we allow them to mature a bit and allow them to make their own choices. And if the latter is more acceptable, are we willing to give up on gymnastics and spelling bees?

I imagine the answer is different for each parent and each child and each individual circumstance. I’m very happy for Anurag Kashyap, and I hope that he gets to enjoy his victory, but I’m so very glad that I didn’t go through all that.