My daughter, Mia, taps the microphone with excitement. “Are you watching me?” she asks, glancing my way.
“I’m right here,” I reply, settling onto the couch next to our Goldendoodle, both of us ready for another round of Idina Menzel’s “Let It Go” through the karaoke app.
For the third time today.
Mia, now in middle school, shifts in her seat, a grin spreading across her face as the intro begins. I’ll admit, for a fleeting moment, I let myself share in her enthusiasm. Maybe today will be different; maybe she’ll hit those notes and, with enough determination and practice, she might just become the star she dreams of being.
As she belts out the first line, I can’t help but brace myself. The dog, sensing the tension, shifts at my feet. The chorus builds, and suddenly, the dog decides he’s had enough and wanders out of the room. Mia? She gives it her all, hitting some notes and missing others.
“Was I good?” she asks, panting and flushed.
It would be easy to lie. I’ve done it before.
“Mama, do you love this painting?”
“Love it!”
“Mama, aren’t those colors amazing?”
“Absolutely the most amazing colors I’ve ever seen!”
While these little white lies can boost a child’s confidence, they can also mislead them. A stroll through any season of a talent show will reveal countless contestants who truly believe they have what it takes — often to their own detriment.
This time feels different. Mia isn’t just singing for fun; she’s preparing for a Broadway audition. I’m her sounding board, and I know I must choose my words wisely.
“It was pretty good,” I say, cautiously.
Her eyes narrow. “Good enough for The Voice?”
“Isn’t the age limit 13?” I respond, using this fact to sidestep the question.
“You know what I mean. Could I be a celebrity?”
And there it is.
“Well,” I say, trying to sound casual, “everyone has their own unique talent. Your singing is good, but it might not be your one true talent. That doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy it.”
“So, you think it was terrible,” she replies, a hint of disappointment creeping into her voice.
“No, I’m saying everyone excels at different things. To make it as a singer, you really need to be exceptional at it.”
“Do you think if I take lessons, I could be exceptional?”
“Maybe,” I reply, hoping to rekindle that spark of belief. I’ve read Malcolm Gladwell’s Outliers; I understand the concept of putting in 10,000 hours to achieve mastery.
Years ago, during our Mommy and Me music classes, our instructor — a free-spirited woman inspired by the 1960s — shared a similar perspective. With decades of experience, she believed no child is inherently good or bad at singing; it’s all about exposure and practice. She’d likely back Gladwell’s idea that those labeled as ‘talented’ have simply put in the hard work.
Yet, even if it’s true that anyone can become whatever they aspire to with enough effort — that we all have a bit of potential genius within us — isn’t there still a need for some level of inherent talent? If I encourage mediocrity in hopes of it blossoming into excellence, am I not hindering Mia from discovering what she truly excels at?
I loved writing in my youth, but I was far from great at it. The journey was often frustrating, yet I persisted, logging my own 10,000 hours without any external encouragement. Now, I’m decent, but I’m equally grateful for the other creative paths that supported me financially.
This karaoke session leads me to a realization: it’s best to allow her singing to unfold organically. If she’s genuinely passionate, she’ll continue on her own, much like I did. She can sing along to the radio, perform for the family, and I’ll offer her honest feedback with a loving touch. However, to push her into formal lessons now would mean neglecting other talents she might possess.
Then there’s the bigger question: why does she want to be a celebrity?
“Why do you want to be famous?” I ask, plucking lint from the couch cushion.
“Because then everyone knows you,” she replies nonchalantly.
“And for what? Singing? Wouldn’t it be better to be known for something that truly matters? Like curing diseases or helping people?”
“I can do all that once I’m famous,” she counters, a hint of sass in her tone.
Well played.
“Alright, give it one more shot, and I’ll be honest…” I lean back, ready to listen. Surprisingly, her voice is much more on point this time.
In the end, nurturing her passion should come naturally and not be forced. Encouraging her to explore a variety of interests seems like the right path. After all, the world of creativity is vast, and she may discover what she truly loves along the way.
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In summary, while it’s tempting to tell our children they can achieve anything, the truth is more nuanced. Encouraging them to find their unique talents while nurturing their passions leads to a more fulfilling journey.
Keyphrase: Encouraging Kids’ Talents
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