Whose life is it anyway?

What is it with parents living their lives vicariously through their children? Before I continue, big caveat: I love my parents very dearly. For the most part they are supportive, kind, understanding and generous, but from Day One they made it clear that they had big ambitions for me. This wasn't such a bad thing in middle school, junior high or even high school since the future was far off and if they thought that I would someday be an international business lawyer, well sure, why not? It seemed as good a career choice as any other.

The problems really started in college. I wanted to study political science--they thought that economics or computer science would be better. My less-than-stellar grades in an introductory Java programming class and four economics courses convinced them that I was no John Maynard Keynes or Steve Jobs in the making. I wanted to do lots of extracurriculars--they were worried about my grades. Understandable. For the most part, my parents didn't really stick their nose into my career plans, though they did express some disappointment when I revealed to them that I wanted to become a professional social scientist rather than a lawyer. Still, they rolled with it. So I applied to grad school and off I went. Here's where things started to get a little hairy.

Dad wasn't too excited about my wanting to study Chinese nationalism. "If you want to study China, you have to study something that the Chinese government will want. They don't want to hear about nationalism or racism or anything like that. You should really study political economy or something like that so you can help China." Dad, for the record, is not a social scientist, nor does he have a degree in social science, nor does he keep up with political science (although he fancies himself an international relations realist).

Several months into my first year, I get some more calls from Dad. "I really think that you need to do some work on computer modeling in political science. There has got to be some way to integrate mathematical modeling into this, otherwise all this politics is just random. If you can develop some software to model these processes, I tell you, you will be golden." True as that might be, I patiently explained to him the limitations of game theoretic models and how I really wasn't interested in that nor did I have a wisp of an inkling of a thought of how to go about modeling political processes on paper, let alone on a computer.

Fast-forward to more recent times. I come up with what I think is a brilliant dissertation topic and mention it to my parents, who think it's a great idea. It plays to my strengths, it ties into all of my interests, it even jives with my personal beliefs about what politics should be about (more on that one of these days). Dad tells me, "If you can use this to link into some kind of policymaking research or consulting or security or think tank, maybe you can get into politics. You should be making connections." Never mind that I really don't WANT to get into politics. When I reply that I really just wanted to teach, ideally at a liberal arts college, he says, "BAIT, I'm really worried about you. Every time we talk it seems like your goals just get lower and lower. You should be aiming high."

Which brings us to the past few days. It seems like I can't talk to Dad about even the most innocuous subjects without the conversation veering into a ham-fisted career counseling session. A few days ago, I call Dad just to see how things are going. Of course, I make the mistake about discussing the upcoming exam, which leads into a discussion about the dissertation topic, except now Dad is very skeptical. He doesn't think that it will fly. He thinks it's too fluffy. He thinks that the phenomenon I want to study doesn't really exist and that no government or company would be interested in it and that I'd be rendered irrelevant. And then the kicker:

"I spent a few hours yesterday looking at what people are writing for their dissertations, just searching on the web, and it really looks like everyone's studying a lot of economic stuff and doing a lot of statistics and modeling. I think that you should seriously consider switching programs. It sounds like the University you're at isn't very good." What gives? The timing could not have been worse. I'm stressed out of my mind about the upcoming comprehensive exam and already filled with self-doubt. I don't need my alleged cheerleading squad second-guessing me and suggesting that I start all over again! As he's telling me this, I am sitting in my office banging on the desk and pulling my hair all the while listening to him drone on and on. It's driving me crazy.

The problem is that Dad just takes ideas and runs with them, heedless of what he's doing to my sense of independence and self-esteem. I'm a pre-quals grad student. I've been in the program long enough to know that I've got a long, tough road ahead but not long enough to see the light at the end of the tunnel. My insecurities are at an all-time high. I contemplate worst-case scenarios when I lie in bed almost every night. I know Dad thinks he's helping, but he's not, and it's almost like he can't help himself. My theory is that he's tickled pink by the idea that his son might one day be a Famous and Powerful Political Figure even though that idea is so far removed from reality as is the notion of the earth being flat. The truth of the matter is, I don't WANT that life. I don't want to work in Washington--I've been down there in the think tank and legislative communities and they're just not for me. I want to teach, do my own research, and hopefully convey some useful policy advice (but that's secondary), which is why I'm here at a Ph.D. program and not at public policy school. Why can't Dad get that through his head?

Even more than all of this, though, is the sense that Dad is trying to manipulate me into living the life that he wants for me because it's the life that he would want for himself. It doesn't help that Dad's dreams for me are ridiculously unrealistic almost to the point of hilarity (and it would be hilarious if he wasn't so darned serious about it). Even if I wanted to go into policy (and maybe I will someday, who knows?) I want to do it on my own terms. I can't ignore him...he's my Dad and I can't just brush him off without seriously harming our relationship, but egad...no one else can make me pull my hair out and put dents on my desk like he can.

Moral of the story: Parents, when your kid hits the mid-twenties, is in a Ph.D. program and has a fairly good sense of where s/he is going, it's probably a good bet that you've done your parenting job well enough and should let go. We know what we're doing, and even if we don't, we still know our own lives better than you do. So please sit back, relax, offer some unconditional love and encouragement, and enjoy the rewards of your hard work. We promise that you will be pleasantly surprised at how well we can handle ourselves.