“Being a parent these days is kind of a lot.”
That’s how a recent guest essay in The New York Times began, written by a woman who became a “helicopter parent” to her dog. Initially skeptical of the over-the-top pet culture, she found herself making homemade treats and enrolling her dog in a fancy daycare.
(I share this with full disclosure: I am a proud dog owner who occasionally bakes treats and feels guilty leaving my rescue dog when I go to work, often trying to make up for it on weekends.)
While this devotion springs from love and is humorously relatable, it also reveals a deeper, more complex dynamic about how we cope with modern pressures. It is not dissimilar to the challenges we face as parents.
When my elder son was a toddler, I was balancing a full-time teaching job and pursuing a master’s degree in counseling psychology, all while managing the demands of parenthood, far from any nearby family support. Over the years, I made my sons’ baby food from scratch, practiced “attachment parenting,” agonized over countless decisions (many of which seem trivial in hindsight), and felt the relentless weight of raising two children.
What I needed was not more effort, but more perspective.
I needed a village—people to stand with me, steady me, and remind me that doing my best was enough. I needed wise counsel that my children didn’t need perfection from me but presence, and that backing off didn’t mean neglect but rather trusting them to grow into who they were meant to be, not who I imagined would take the safest route or be the “most successful” (whatever that even means).
These pressures are not unique; last year, former Surgeon General Vivek Murthy released findings showing that many parents today feel overwhelmed by financial strain, time demands, isolation, worries about the future, technology, and cultural expectations about parenting and children’s achievements. I deeply relate to his statement that “chasing these unreasonable expectations has left many families feeling exhausted, burned out, and perpetually behind.”
Parenting is undervalued and unsupported, and social systems often fail to promote family well-being.
It is within this context of relentless pressure that, as the essay’s author points out, many of us extend those high expectations to our pets. Instead of building communities that value rest, meaningful relationships, and connection, we burden ourselves with unrealistic demands, even in how we care for our four-legged companions.
This leads to an important question: when is “good enough” really good enough?
This struggle to loosen control is not limited to pet care—it is central to parenting itself. Letting go, especially of something beautiful and precious, is never easy. Yet, gradually releasing our grip is essential to helping children grow. This process begins long before the teenage years. Every time we allow our children to walk into a new classroom, tackle a challenge, or navigate frustration on their own, we are building their confidence and resilience, qualities they will need for a future marked by constant change.
Today, that future is shaped by forces like artificial intelligence, which is transforming how we live, work, and learn. AI can write essays, pass exams, analyze data, and simulate conversations, but it cannot imagine freely, care deeply, or connect meaningfully. These human capacities—collaboration, leadership, perseverance, agility—are what our children must develop to thrive in an uncertain world.
Preparing children for this future requires us to rethink what matters most. We cannot predict exactly what skills or jobs will exist in 15 or 20 years, so we must ground our children in enduring qualities: curiosity, motivation, resilience, empathy, and the ability to learn and relearn. These are not extras; they are survival skills. In a world awash with instant information, engagement and adaptability matter more than rote knowledge.
This insight challenges traditional ideas of academic rigor.
Many of us grew up equating rigor with long hours of homework, memorization, and strict routines, proof of a “serious” education. But that model was designed for a predictable, standardized world. Today, we know those long hours with pencil and eraser in hand often stifled curiosity, discouraged risk-taking, and harmed mental health, treating stress and burnout as inevitable.
Fortunately, modern rigor looks very different. It means purposeful, meaningful work that challenges students thoughtfully, not through sheer volume but through depth.
It involves applying knowledge creatively, solving real problems, collaborating, and building resilience with support. When you don’t see stacks of worksheets coming home, it’s not because the work is easier, but because it is more meaningful.
Just as innovators transform breakthroughs into progress, we trust our educators to apply current world context to the science of learning. Together, with your partnership, we can nurture the thinkers, collaborators, and citizens our children will need to meet the challenges ahead.
Your presence and contributions strengthen the bonds that sustain us all.
As the self-proclaimed “helicopter parent” of a dog put it in her essay, “the thing about kids is, they are themselves. They are not us; they are not our theories or our hopes and dreams. Our task is to parent the kids we get. Same goes for puppies.”
And honestly? Puppies don’t care about your expectations. You wanted a calm and obedient furball? Instead, you got one who’s systematically dismantling your furniture with its tiny, adorable teeth. And yet, you love them.
The same goes for educators; we know we don’t teach idealized versions of children, we teach the wonderfully real, gloriously unique humans who walk into our classrooms each day. Our vital and sacred role is to meet them where they are, nurture their growth, and walk alongside you as part of the village, shaping who they are becoming.
The way we educate them, with intention, empathy, and high expectations, equips them to navigate an increasingly complex world with clarity, courage, and compassion. And when they do, the world won’t just be ready for them, it will be better because of them.
Thank you for your continued trust, shared vision, and philanthropic generosity. Your commitment to Turning Point School’s values and mission empowers our students to grow, thrive, and make meaningful contributions now and in the future.
Warmly,
Laura
Dr. Laura Konigsberg
Head of School
lkonigsberg@turningpointschool.org
