My daughter has explored a variety of sports ranging from the classic (soccer, swimming) to the unexpected (ice skating and martial arts). While she was decent at all of them, none sparked her enthusiasm. Each new endeavor began with excitement, but soon it became a struggle to get her to practices. I often wrestled with the idea of letting her quit—shouldn’t I be teaching her to persevere? Yet, I eventually gave in each time. Investing time and money into something that didn’t bring her joy seemed pointless. Besides, I’ve been there myself. In my younger days, I quit dance, gymnastics, basketball, and softball, among others. Like my daughter, I was far more captivated by books and academics than by athletics. And I turned out (mostly) alright.
However, one lesson I didn’t learn from my childhood was an appreciation for staying active. I didn’t want my children to follow my path of fitness avoidance, so I kept introducing new activities, hoping she would find her passion. Finally, about a year and a half ago, at the age of 10, we discovered tennis. Inspired by her interest, I decided to dive into the sport as well.
She quickly moved up through recreational classes and earned an invitation to the high-performance program. I took private lessons and managed to become an alternate on the club’s doubles team. We invested in a ball caddy stocked with four dozen pink tennis balls and practiced our serves together at our neighborhood court. Last summer, I took her to a local pro tournament, and her eyes sparkled as we watched top female players compete just a few feet away.
Her skills improved rapidly, and her coach frequently praised her progress. I attempted to encourage her to participate in local tournaments, but she consistently declined. When the YMCA’s tennis team sign-ups were announced this spring, she reluctantly agreed to join, but she dreaded the practices and pleaded with me not to push her into competing for a better ranking.
One day, her dad asked me if she truly enjoyed tennis. She always assured me she did, but doubts began to creep in. I asked if she envisioned herself playing competitively, and she mumbled, “Yeah, maybe,” while staring at the ground. Around that time, she began experiencing stomachaches before practices.
I gently approached the subject again, expressing my concern that she might not be enjoying tennis, and suggested scaling back to just one lesson a week for the summer. She agreed but expressed disappointment. The stomachaches persisted, mysteriously disappearing about thirty minutes after practice ended.
I was torn. On one hand, the cost of tennis lessons was more than I could comfortably manage, and the practice times clashed with our schedule. On the other, I longed for her to excel at something. Her younger brother thrived as a competitive gymnast, and I thought it was only fair for her to have a sport where she could shine. Plus, I cherished our shared interest in tennis.
As the deadline for fall session sign-ups loomed, I broached the topic again. “Why do you want to continue with tennis?” I asked. She burst into tears. Amidst her sobs, she confessed that she wanted to quit but felt guilty about the money I had invested and thought quitting would mean all of it was wasted.
I tried not to dwell on the fact that the costs for lessons, tennis rackets, court shoes, and skirts could have funded a lovely trip to Europe. I explained the idea of “sunk costs”—we shouldn’t continue pouring time and money into something that doesn’t spark joy just because we’ve already invested in it. She kept crying, and I handed her a tissue, telling her how proud I was for being honest about her feelings.
Later that evening, we made the final decision to step back from tennis. I felt a mix of relief and surprise that she was truly quitting, although I framed it to her and her coach as her taking a break. Maybe one day, she’ll return to tennis, but I’m perfectly fine if she doesn’t. I’d rather her time and my money go toward activities that genuinely excite her.
I admit I’m still unsure about the balance between teaching perseverance and recognizing when it’s time to walk away. The belief that one must always “stick it out” led me to remain in unhealthy relationships and unfulfilling jobs, and I don’t want that for my daughter. Yet, I also recognize that one cannot simply quit when things get difficult. What about that old Vince Lombardi quote, “Winners never quit, and quitters never win”? Nobody wants to raise a quitter.
But here’s the thing—she doesn’t quit everything. She is a talented musician who plays three instruments and never complains about practicing. She is a dedicated student who independently manages her homework and studying. She’s a skilled artist who spends hours sketching. So, she may not be a tennis player, and that’s perfectly okay.
I’ve maintained my requirement for her to engage in some form of physical activity, and she’s opted to give fencing a try next.
Anyone interested in swapping a tennis racket for an épée?
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In summary, it’s perfectly fine for children to explore different activities, find their passions, and sometimes choose to quit. This journey of self-discovery can lead to a happier and healthier life.
Keyphrase: My Child Chose to Quit
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