Helicopter parents not conducive to growth of their children

Let’s talk about clinginess. No, not the “How dare you choose your friends over me?” kind of clinginess that sometimes accompanies romantic relationships or the “Why did you wait an hour to text me back?” kind of clinginess that goes with friendships. I’m talking about clingy parents, better known as helicopter parents.

We’ve grown up surrounded by helicopter parents. They are the ones who attend fourth-grade chorus practice just so they can get behind-the-scenes footage for their son’s birthday party. They are the ones who chaperone prom in order to watch their daughter and make sure her date stays three feet away at all times. They are the ones who visit you in college every single weekend.

Having a helicopter parent is kind of like having a conjoined twin, only instead of being attached to a look-alike version of yourself, you’re connected to a woman in hair curlers clutching a Nikon D7100 who keeps wallet photos of you in her purse that she likes to hand out whenever you casually come up in conversation — which is all the time because her life revolves around you.

It may seem like I’m joking, but helicopter parents are becoming a serious problem. Google the phrase “helicopter parent” and you’re barraged with articles bearing titles such as, “Hover no more: Helicopter parents may breed depression and incompetence in their children,” “How helicopter parents can ruin a kid’s job prospects” and “Helicopter parents have neurotic kids.” These aren’t from hack sites, mind you — that second headline is pulled straight from CNN.

I was confronted with a helicopter parent situation earlier this semester when one of my professors told me he had a student whose mother tweeted him. Now take a second to think about that. Not only does this mother presumably know the names of all her child’s professors, but she took the time to find them on social media sites and send one of them a message. That’s terrifying. My parents can’t even remember what street I live on, let alone my class schedule and professors.

Just because we live in the Information Age and it’s easier to connect with one another than ever before doesn’t mean you have to be connected with your parents all the time, on all different platforms. It’s good that you’re not Facebook friends with your parents or, more drastically, that they don’t know your password and can secretly check up on you (this is a real thing, trust me). Privacy is helpful to everyone, especially at this age.

Before I went abroad, I friended my parents on Facebook so that I wouldn’t have to individually email them every picture I uploaded. After I got back, my dad told me that now would be a good time to unfriend him and all the other adults that friended me while I was away because it was a natural ending point.

I appreciated the option of an escape route. My dad still won’t talk about what he did in college, so he obviously understands the idea that some things are better kept personal and not circulated among family members. Some pictures should really never leave your desktop.

Parents are great, don’t get me wrong, but at some point the cord needs to be cut and college is the perfect time for both parties to assert some much-needed independence. It’s okay to call your parents asking if coloreds and whites really do need to be separated or where you go to file your taxes, but if your mother comes over every Saturday to wash and fold your laundry, then you know you have a problem.

We need to learn how to survive without our parents, and they need to learn how to survive without us. There’s going to come a time when they will no longer be able to accompany you to job interviews or call your professor to complain about the “B-” you received on your last essay. You’re going to have to do these things on your own and it’s important to know how.

And in your absence, your parents are going to have to find something to do with their free time aside from invading your personal space. They may have to start birdwatching, or playing chess or learning origami. Stalking you was probably time consuming, so they’re going to have a lot of space to fill. Better start finding hobbies now.

Write Channing at clk87@pitt.edu.