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As an upper-income dad, I spend most of my expendable income on my kids' activities. I fear I'm giving them an unfair advantage.

As an upper-income dad, I spend most of my expendable income on my kids' activities. I fear I'm giving them an unfair advantage.

Business Insider9 hours ago
In suburban Philadelphia, they'll teach your baby to swim for $1,050.
A lifeguard-turned-PhD developed a program to train kids to become comfortable in water before they can even walk, and then they franchised it around the country. Now my wife and I have to decide if we're going to pay to see if our baby can float.
It's part of the dizzying array of decisions that confront parents with any expendable money, beginning even before birth. There are sleep coaches, automated bassinets, and early SAT prep.
For me, an upper-income father, this gauntlet is both anxiety-inducing and a worrying component of inequality.
My kids have access to unlimited activities and services
As two professionals in Philadelphia's mixed-income Fishtown neighborhood, my wife and I feel this pressure deeply. This fall, our eldest daughter starts at the neighborhood's well-liked public school, which is making more urgent the same question millions of parents ask: Where's the line between helping my children and unfairly stacking the deck?
We chose the nearby, affordable day care we could walk to over the highly-credentialed one farther away. We skipped most of the premium products marketed to new parents (no $1,700 Snoo bassinet here). We frequent our neighborhood secondhand store, swapping clothes and toys with local families there.
But we also made decisions we know others can't. For our first kid, we opted for the sleep coach ($400), which saved my wife and me from yelling at each other at 3 a.m. We also set a recurring monthly ($100) contribution to each of our kids' 529 plans.
And then there's water safety. Ultimately, we passed on the intensive, thousand-dollar infant survival swim classes. Instead, we became regulars at our neighborhood city pool, enrolling in more affordable swim lessons at the nearby YMCA, which we can reach by bicycle.
I believe giving my kids access will also give them an unfair advantage
Parents have always had to make decisions about how much money and attention to invest in their children's future. Today's achievement culture has raised the stakes.
The " meritocracy trap," as one Yale professor calls it, is an arms race in which too many parents buy their kids any head start they can find, daring other parents to do the same.
According to Afterschool Alliance, upper-income families now spend five times more on out-of-school activities than low-income families, significantly widening opportunity gaps before kindergarten even begins.
Plus, I know that putting my kids into all these after-school activities will only intermingle them with kids whose parents also have an expendable income.
I can't help but think about the families that don't have the privileges I have. It's hard to spend money you don't have, even on a kid you love dearly. But stories abound of parents stretching beyond their means, going into debt, or forsaking retirement savings to fund activities they feel pressured into.
I want my kids to spend time with children from different backgrounds. Research consistently shows that mixed-income friendships significantly boost economic outcomes for lower-income kids, enriching empathy and social outcomes for all.
My wife and I are focusing on three principles moving forward
Many more decisions are coming our way, so we're developing a philosophy.
We are guided by three clear principles. First, we prioritize interactions with people from diverse socioeconomic backgrounds. Second, we choose activities close to home to maximize family time. Third, we focus on our children's happiness rather than relentless skill development.
I want my children to have opportunities, but not at the expense of reinforcing societal inequities or their own sense of meaning.
I believe that if I parent intentionally, I will benefit not only my children but also my community.
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As an upper-income dad, I spend most of my expendable income on my kids' activities. I fear I'm giving them an unfair advantage.
As an upper-income dad, I spend most of my expendable income on my kids' activities. I fear I'm giving them an unfair advantage.

Business Insider

time9 hours ago

  • Business Insider

As an upper-income dad, I spend most of my expendable income on my kids' activities. I fear I'm giving them an unfair advantage.

In suburban Philadelphia, they'll teach your baby to swim for $1,050. A lifeguard-turned-PhD developed a program to train kids to become comfortable in water before they can even walk, and then they franchised it around the country. Now my wife and I have to decide if we're going to pay to see if our baby can float. It's part of the dizzying array of decisions that confront parents with any expendable money, beginning even before birth. There are sleep coaches, automated bassinets, and early SAT prep. For me, an upper-income father, this gauntlet is both anxiety-inducing and a worrying component of inequality. My kids have access to unlimited activities and services As two professionals in Philadelphia's mixed-income Fishtown neighborhood, my wife and I feel this pressure deeply. This fall, our eldest daughter starts at the neighborhood's well-liked public school, which is making more urgent the same question millions of parents ask: Where's the line between helping my children and unfairly stacking the deck? We chose the nearby, affordable day care we could walk to over the highly-credentialed one farther away. We skipped most of the premium products marketed to new parents (no $1,700 Snoo bassinet here). We frequent our neighborhood secondhand store, swapping clothes and toys with local families there. But we also made decisions we know others can't. For our first kid, we opted for the sleep coach ($400), which saved my wife and me from yelling at each other at 3 a.m. We also set a recurring monthly ($100) contribution to each of our kids' 529 plans. And then there's water safety. Ultimately, we passed on the intensive, thousand-dollar infant survival swim classes. Instead, we became regulars at our neighborhood city pool, enrolling in more affordable swim lessons at the nearby YMCA, which we can reach by bicycle. I believe giving my kids access will also give them an unfair advantage Parents have always had to make decisions about how much money and attention to invest in their children's future. Today's achievement culture has raised the stakes. The " meritocracy trap," as one Yale professor calls it, is an arms race in which too many parents buy their kids any head start they can find, daring other parents to do the same. According to Afterschool Alliance, upper-income families now spend five times more on out-of-school activities than low-income families, significantly widening opportunity gaps before kindergarten even begins. Plus, I know that putting my kids into all these after-school activities will only intermingle them with kids whose parents also have an expendable income. I can't help but think about the families that don't have the privileges I have. It's hard to spend money you don't have, even on a kid you love dearly. But stories abound of parents stretching beyond their means, going into debt, or forsaking retirement savings to fund activities they feel pressured into. I want my kids to spend time with children from different backgrounds. Research consistently shows that mixed-income friendships significantly boost economic outcomes for lower-income kids, enriching empathy and social outcomes for all. My wife and I are focusing on three principles moving forward Many more decisions are coming our way, so we're developing a philosophy. We are guided by three clear principles. First, we prioritize interactions with people from diverse socioeconomic backgrounds. Second, we choose activities close to home to maximize family time. Third, we focus on our children's happiness rather than relentless skill development. I want my children to have opportunities, but not at the expense of reinforcing societal inequities or their own sense of meaning. I believe that if I parent intentionally, I will benefit not only my children but also my community.

Heron Road Community Centre to reopen after nearly 2 years as emergency shelter
Heron Road Community Centre to reopen after nearly 2 years as emergency shelter

Yahoo

time13 hours ago

  • Yahoo

Heron Road Community Centre to reopen after nearly 2 years as emergency shelter

Community programming will soon resume at the Heron Road Community Centre, nearly two years after the facility began serving as a shelter for the homeless, according to the local councillor. On Friday, the last people staying there were transitioned to other shelters in the city, including the YMCA and the Queen Street transitional facility that opened last month, Alta Vista Coun. Marty Carr said. "There was a place found for every single one of those residents in a more suitable location than a community centre," Carr told CBC on Saturday. "It's fantastic for the community and it's fantastic for unhoused individuals who no longer have to sleep in bunk beds in a gym." Carr said the community centre will reopen "on a staggered basis" as cleanup and renovation work is completed, but they hope to reopen the seniors' centre on the second floor as early as mid-September. 'Long-term plans' being forged Using community centres as emergency shelters was a practice that began during the pandemic, when city facilities were shut down, Carr explained. "There was no plan in place to actually address the emergency that was declared," she said. "And so that practice of using community centres has continued, even when the city was able to resume recreational programming." After COVID-19 lockdowns ended, Carr said she and other councillors tried to end the practice, but a surge in "irregular migration" to the city prolonged their use. "So, hopefully as of Friday, this chapter of using community facilities as shelter has finally come to a close." Carr added that the Bernard Grandmaître Arena on McArthur Road is also no longer operating as a shelter. "And we're making long-term plans so that we can address this housing and homelessness strategy," she said. "We actually have plans in place."

What I Want My Son to Remember As He Goes Away to College
What I Want My Son to Remember As He Goes Away to College

Yahoo

time2 days ago

  • Yahoo

What I Want My Son to Remember As He Goes Away to College

My oldest son is leaving for college. He's more than ready. George can't wait to live with his peers, not his parents. And he really wants to go to school – he's spent hours reading the course catalog and he's made a spreadsheet to figure out how to fit in all the classes he's excited to take. Our family will miss him. I will miss him. Even when he's in his most sloppy, forgetful, self-centered teenager moments, George is a person I love to be with and makes our foursome complete. (Yes, I got a little teary putting that into words.) More from SheKnows Majority of Teens Talk to Their Parents About Money - But Still Don't Feel Confident in Financial Literacy But when my husband and I drive him a couple of hours away to his new campus home, a dorm-room double in an all-freshman hall, I won't make his bed. I recently made this statement to two other moms I know well, both who are delivering their own sons to college this fall. One replied wistfully, 'I really want to make his bed for him.' The bed, it seemed, was central to showing him a last bit of mommy love. 'I feel like I should. At least I'll know that it started out made,' the other said. Making a bed is not rocket science, I thought. Perhaps it's time he learned. Somehow this last 'bedtime' tuck-in carried meaning for these moms in a way that baffled me. I silently scoffed at their neediness. The bed-making wasn't going to help out their son. It was going to reinforce the hovering mother (or the privilege of a housekeeper) that had been in their lives for years. And the bed-making would double down on the stereotype of what a mom needs to do for a son. Smooth the blanket, and tuck the corners in tight. See? Mom is essential. At least this one last time. I easily get choked up at the thought that George will no longer live closely with us, be home to eat innumerable tacos on Tuesdays, or streak from his room to the laundry in search of clean shorts. But I've been trying to make myself dispensable for years. My boys both know how to make a bed and clean a bathroom. They go to the dentist and the doctor on their own. Danny, my 16-year-old, went backpacking solo in June (including driving himself 200 miles each way to the trailhead.) I will also admit to my own moments of holding on too tightly. I've dutifully organized too many duffle bags for summer camp and filled too many lunch boxes. I've reminded about deadlines and been a backup alarm clock. I drove George to the SAT so he could save his brain power during the hour drive to the test center. And yes, I made Danny take a GPS emergency device on the solo backpacking trip. (He did forget bug spray, though.) George couldn't care less about his bed and the furnishings of his dorm. The dorm beds require twin XL size sheets, something we needed to pick up rather than swipe from the supply from our bunk bed days. I asked George to pick some out. Not white, George said. Navy or gray? Shrug. I'm not sure he will even pack anything very personal, though he's been a collector of many things over the years. (I'm told his bottle cap collection, arranged carefully with magnets on metal boards on his bedroom wall, will remain here for my enjoyment.) Another mom described to me the carefully curated collage of posters her daughter is bringing from Massachusetts to Michigan. The posters have just the right color combinations and say exactly what she wants to say about who she is and what she cares about without her having to say it. George might not come up with the artistic idea to use wall art to introduce himself, but he's far from shy. He's a big talker. He loves improv theater, and meeting new people is a fun game for him. He's ready to jump in and start doing what he wants to do: join the rock climbing team, try out for a singing group, and take a class called 'How to Survive in Space'. So how will I be helping George if I complete this expected ritual of bed-making? I won't. He doesn't want us to linger. He doesn't want help in putting away his stuff. My guess is he will live like college is temporary, like summer camp, running from activity to class to gathering to meals, and barely organizing anything. At least through Halloween. He doesn't plan to come home before winter break. Meanwhile the message I want to send when I hug him goodbye can't be said by carefully folding his top sheet. Be open. Care for others. Find others that might keep an eye out for you, too. Eat a salad. Better yet, eat a cooked vegetable here and there. Put your phone away as often as possible. Find other people who put their phones away as often as possible. Ask questions. Laugh your ass off. At no other time will George have a more fertile place to be unsure, unfettered and with only the expectation that he engage. Sing. Run. (George loves to do both.) Find people to sing and to run with. Shoot your mom a text every few days. In fact, send me a text after you make your bed that first night. … Or a selfie. A selfie of you, tucking in your very own self. Best of SheKnows Birthday Freebies for Kids: 25+ Places That'll Make Their Big Day Extra Sweet These Raw & Beautiful Breastfeeding Photos Show There's No 'Right' Way to Nurse 'But I Hate School': What To Do When Your Teen Dreads Going Back Solve the daily Crossword

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