"I called the head of the Chloe camp to let him know that she only drank orange juice with pineapple juice for breakfast...not ordinary orange juice."
"We let Jacob's football coach have dinner to make sure he understands that Jacob's reaction to the command is not good. We hope that the coach will use the "suggestions" when talking about football technology with Jacob.
"I can't believe the teacher asked Phoebe to write her thesis again with better calligraphy. Doesn't the woman know that this is the content of writing rather than what it looks like? I don't want Phoebe to think she is a poor writer. Because the handwriting rate is not high."
Ah, the thinking mode of the helicopter parents! These over-burden, obsessive, and embarrassing parents micro-manage all aspects of their children's lives. It is not enough to just ensure that their children listen to Einstein and perform well in the Golden Baby class. The Wall Street Journal recently reported on the case of helicopter parents accompanying their college students to the interview. Some companies that offer internship opportunities for college graduates are now conducting parent training programs to stop a large number of calls from helicopter parents. Although helicopter parents may have the best intentions, in fact, they are raising children and there are few skills to solve problems. Children with parents will never have the opportunity to face disappointment and increase flexibility.
Let us listen... Samaritan! Think about your typical submarine. [Not a daily topic for parents to discuss.] Submarines are usually underwater and not in sight. In the case where an emergency surface is required, the submarine can rise so rapidly that it partially advances from the water. The submarine parents are not in sight, but can pop up in an emergency. Let's take a look at the difference between helicopter and submarine parents: helicopter parents: prepare lunch for their children, match dinosaur-shaped sandwiches and lengthy notes, celebrate their children's wisdom, beautiful appearance and use of remote control ability. Submarine Parents: Provide a variety of school lunch supplies and encourage their children to pack their own lunches. If Matt only wraps French fries and carrot sticks, then the next day he will feel hungry and pack up for a bigger lunch.
Helicopter Parents: Selling Family Heirloom at E-Bay to pay $3,995 for the Silver Cross Pram. [Canopy only needs an extra $225.00!] To make the most of this stroller, even children aged three and four will be squeezed into the park while chewing delicious flaxseed biscuits. Submarine parents: Buy a sturdy and comfortable stroller when the garage is sold for $25.00. Once the child starts walking, the stroller will be resold when the garage is sold, and the children can exercise by walking and running.
Helicopter Parents: Participate in all of their child's homework projects. When a fifth-grade teacher assigned the task of building a solar system model [without styrofoam balls!] the helicopter parents complained a lot. How can their future astronomers rebuild the galaxies of non-proportional styrofoam balls? Submarine parents: Encourage their children to look around for items. A mother donated a series of dry cotton linters, so her son could add glue and make a mini cotton ball representing the planet.
I admit, I am the parent of the submarine. My job as a parent is to make my daughters have fun and let them explore and learn the natural consequences. My youngest daughter, Sandra, didn't know that the store had a locker room until she was eight years old. I bought all her [cute!] clothes at the garage sales and consignment store. After washing each piece of clothing, she will find it hanging in the closet or folded in the drawer. No one has ever discussed, "If I buy it for you, would you wear this?" My older daughter found herself performing better in commercials than the minimum wage for teenagers. In order to let her know about the real world, I insisted that she spend three weeks each summer, picking strawberries and earning $3.50 on a good day. When Sandra was six years old, she wanted a super expensive American girl doll. I cut a full-color 18-inch photo from the American Girl Directory and laminated it. "This is your American girl doll." I said, "When you are nine years old, I will buy you a three-dimensional doll on your birthday." Sondra played her flat doll for months and made clothes and furniture for her. She learned creativity. I saved $88.00.
Orignal From: Forgotten helicopter parents - become a submarine parent!
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