INDPNDT: The Profound Act of Getting Out of the Way
Tiny nuances in language send colossal messaging

Walking to my office on campus yesterday, a car parked on a bustling street. Students streamed past on the way to their final classes of the fall term. The license plate read something like: INDPNDT.
I stared at the plate and thought, Good for you kid.
More and more, I am understanding the value of getting out of the way. As a parent to sons, 16, 17, 19, 20, and 22, I have not cued them into my epiphany, but I am hoping they feel it in some ways.
I constantly ask myself, Is this helping or enabling? I used to text: Hey- you should apply for this internship. It looks really cool. Then a day or so later, I would follow up: Hey, did you apply for that internship? Crickets. I would grow frustrated; I am sure they were already at frustration level, too.
Now, I spot something cool on LinkedIn, and I might send a screenshot here and there sans advice. It’s amazing when they write back: This is really cool. How do I apply?
Insert solicited advice.
I am learning that leaning out allows our boys to lean in.
My walking partner this morning said, “When you do it for them, it tells them, I don’t think you are capable.” Even at a subconscious level, when we jump in and nudge, push, or straight up do the task– we tell our kids that they need us. Who is that helping? Them or us?
This is not a profound school of thought, but one new epiphany I had this week was the subtle nuance of language when it comes to leaning in or out. Are we using “you” or are we saying “we” and “us”? When we lump ourselves into what they need to be doing– we again give subtle clues that this is a shared responsibility. We remind them they need us to get said task completed or completed to our standard.
Having taught in both high school and now in college, I see the students whose parents, by choice or inadvertently, leaned out. They seem to be the most prepared and the most adaptable to independence.
In my other role with our writing company, I talk to parents often. These conversations often happen in the summer and fall when their seniors are applying to college. Parents are concerned– it’s stressful. I get it. They will say things like, “We are looking at [insert college name], but we want to see what type of merit we receive first.” I often want to ask, Are you climbing in the suitcase and moving into the dorm? Of course, I refrain from sarcasm and respond with something like, “[Insert student’s name] is a really bright and hardworking student. I am sure he will have clarity on the best spot for him when the time comes. I know it is stressful for everyone involved, but you have raised a great kid; I am confident that he will know what is best.”
Tiny nuances in language send colossal messaging; I believe in your student.
Last week, I wrote an article about LLM’s taking the frustration out of the writing process for kids. As a result, they did not learn as much when it came to writing. I think the same principle applies here. The struggle is the lesson. The navigating is the confidence builder. The result is their win, not ours.
Independence is not given; it is accomplished through hard work, amazing wins, tough losses, and of course – parallel parking.











