This is their first session with me and they seem relaxed and at ease, giggling conspiratorially, while I search around for my yellow pad and perpetually misplaced pen. I wonder why Karen wants to be stylish in the same way as her daughter. I wonder why Sophie, a teenager, is content to look like a clone of her mother.
After a few minutes of predictable small talk, Karen anxiously eyes her daughter, and begins to speak in earnest. "I'm concerned about Sophie. Her grades are terrific, and she's very popular, but she never really seems to care much about anything but shopping and boys.
"We can't get her to do any chores in the house and she rings up an outrageous bill on my credit card almost every month. I think she may be shoplifting because sometimes I find really expensive clothes stuffed in the back of her closet. Lately she's been breaking curfew and I'm worried that she might be drinking too much or even doing drugs. We've always been so close, like two peas in a pod. But now the only time she seems to want me around is when she's trying to manipulate me. I'm really not sure, should I be worried?"
By this time, Sophie, has moved to the other end of the couch and is in full adolescent exasperation. She sighs with exaggeration and rolls her eyes. "I'm a good student and I'm popular. Both my mom and my dad are always looking over my shoulder; I feel like they're waiting for me to screw up. Sure, I don't like to make my bed or take out the garbage. What teenager does? Besides, I've always been the ‘perfect' child, and now I'm tired of it! I'd like to feel like my life is my own and I'm free to make at least some choices about the kind of person I am. I guess that means I'm going to make mistakes once in a while. They think I'm materialistic, but you should see what they spend. And at least when I go shopping with my girlfriends, I'm free to pick out the kind of clothes I want, not the dorky stuff my mom is always buying for me." Sophie hesitates for a minute, locks eyes with her mother and says with unexpected vehemence, "You're really one to talk about drinking too much."
The usual suspects have, once again, all turned up in my office. Living and working in one of the most affluent counties in this country, I've become accustomed to issues of pressure, substance abuse, materialism, depression, anxiety, spoiled kids, and confused parents. Over the last few years, I've seen a steady stream of well-dressed, articulate, bright parents, and their high-achieving children who, in spite of considerable advantage, are unhappy at best, and more often truly impaired. Consistent with one of the more unfortunate values of the well-to-do, many have chosen to hide their problems. In affluent communities, privacy and perfection are highly valued, and, as a result, looking good can take precedence over feeling good — often until distress becomes intolerable. In spite of their initial good show of affability and camaraderie, Karen and Sophie are separated not by the normal and appropriate distance that adolescence imposes; they are separated by a raft of psychological problems that have ben percolating for years. Their problems, just like the problems of most of my teenage patients and their parents, are the outcome of many factors: genetics, well-intentioned but misguided parenting, unrealistic educational demands, and a soulless culture.
As it turns out, Sophie does, indeed, have a drug problem. She abuses cocaine so that she can maintain an active social life, and still stay up studying half the night in order to maintain the high grades that are so important to her and her parents. She also likes the high cocaine gives her, because much of the time she feels "empty."
Her repertoire of emotions is surprisingly narrow for a teenager. She can feel angry, vacant, bored, or sad, but little else. Shopping with her girlfriends gives her some relief from her depression. She is not enthusiastic, passionate, or empathic. Her mother's observation that Sophie doesn't seem to care about much is accurate.
In spite of Sophie's superficial social skills, she is unlikely to be able to handle the demands of later adolescence, of college, and of independent living. Like many of the teenagers I see, underneath a well-honed surface, there is little of substance. She depends almost exclusively on external motivation and recognition for a sense of self. A lower-than-expected test score can send her into a tizzy of despair way out of proportion with reality. When I ask Sophie about her excessive preoccupation with grades, her response is, "Grades and the schools you go to are what it's all about. It lets you know where you stand." The issue here is not grades, of course; we all want our children to do well in school. The real issue is how much Sophie depends on her grades in order to feel okay about herself. Good grades are fine; depending on them for a sense of self is not. It is estimated that 75 percent of students cheat; if you include copying homework, the number jumps to 90 percent.1 When you're fighting for your identity, cheating is the least of your problems. Integrity becomes easily compromised.
Being extremely popular is also important to Sophie in spite of the fact that her "Queen Bee" status often means that she acts cruelly toward other girls. She seems indifferent to this aspect of her behavior. Most worrisome is how poor Sophie's self-management skills are. Instead of working on many of the central tasks of adolescence — learning to control impulsivity, to manage time, to exercise self-control, to delay gratification — Sophie instead uses cocaine to bypass the development of these critical skills.
Psychologically, Sophie is just a stone's throw away from mom. They are both depressed, self-medicating, and disconnected from those around them. Karen has unfortunately modeled both substance abuse and materialism as solutions to life's challenges. Married to a powerful, bullying, and self-centered man, Karen had decided long ago that leaving her marriage was too costly, both literally and emotionally. Instead she found temporary solace in what her marriage could provide — her children, and the things that money could buy. Unable to really connect with her husband, and too fearful to show vulnerability to her friends who all seemed "perfect," Karen connected with Sophie by infantilizing her, by giving in to her ridiculous demands, and by finding it impossible to set appropriate limits for her. After all, Sophie was, in many ways, her best friend, and the thought of any rupture in the one relationship that had sustained her for years was unthinkable. When Sophie entered adolescence and began trying to separate from mom, Karen experienced this as rejection. Her drinking problem escalated.
The reason that Karen and Sophie have problems that are so similar is not simply because they live in the same house or share the same genes (although these two facts certainly play a role). Their problems are so similar because, in spite of their age difference, they both live in the same culture — swim in the same ocean, so to speak — and are susceptible to the same cultural messages. They have both learned that this country views "winners" with high regard, and "losers" with contempt. Success has a great deal to do with status and material goods and little to do with character. Much of the reason that Kate and Sophie are struggling is because they have both, wittingly and unwittingly, bought into a particular story about what exactly constitutes a life well lived in America at the beginning of the 21st century. It is a story that affects us all to varying degrees, often so well disguised that we don't even recognize it until it is brought to our attention.
UCLA, in conjunction with the American Council on Education, has been studying the values of incoming freshmen in colleges across the country for the past 40 years.2 The primary reasons given by incoming students for wanting to go to college in the 1960s and early 1970s was, "to become an educated person," or "to develop a meaningful philosophy of life." Beginning in the 1990s, the most frequent reason given for attending college had changed to "make a lot of money," outranking not only the reflective reasons noted above, but also "becoming an authority in my field," or " helping others in difficulty." This shift in values is just one manifestation of a profound shift in American culture, away from values of community, spirituality, and integrity, and toward competition, materialism, and disconnection.
Clearly, America did not precipitously change its character only in the last 15 or 20 years. Built on a foundation of forward motion, entrepreneurship, and free enterprise, our nation has long tended to romanticize rugged individualism. But with increasing wealth distributed to larger numbers of people and technological advances that bind us together as a global, not local, community, our culture has become increasingly vulnerable to homogenization and the damaging consumer messages of a few multinational corporations.
Karen and Sophie looked so much alike when I first met them because they are supposed to. The media sexualizes young girls, encouraging them to look older and more seductive, at the same time that it encourages older women to look younger and cooler. As a result, the critical "parent-child gradient" that keeps parents in control and children feeling safe is disappearing. Many children are increasingly deprived of all that we know makes for a healthy childhood: sleep, good nutrition, a role in the functioning of the family, playtime, and plenty of downtime. Too many mothers, preoccupied with their children's success and failure, find it increasingly difficult to fulfill their role as wise women capable of guiding the next generation into a successful and meaningful adulthood. The crone — once revered for her age, wisdom, and ability to help others through the stages of life — is a concept even Madison Avenue's most talented couldn't sell today. In a culture saturated with shallow values, we've been taught to take the measure of a person by the car they drive, the clothes they wear, the school they attend. Too often, too many of us are dazzled by the obvious and the superficial and lack the common sense and patience to see to the heart of things.
Of course we give lip service to "good values." Schools throughout the country have banners lining their gymnasiums listing the five or six or eight "pillars of character" — integrity, discipline, generosity, compassion, etc. These banners declare that schools are committed to the "whole child" and that "character counts." But when the school paper comes out, there is, in most cases, no "compassion roll" or "integrity roll," but only the "honor roll" paying homage to those kids who are particularly academically talented — or, as the research suggests, who have cheated to secure high grades. (It is estimated that 75 percent of students cheat, if you include copying homework, the number jumps to 90 percent.3) Many high schools throughout this country publish the name of every graduating senior and the college or university they will be attending. This is the coup de grace for all those nice kids (most of our kids, actually) with average or "simply" good grades and "unimpressive" college admissions. As the college counselor at our local prestigious private high school remarked to a friend's daughter — a lovely, thoughtful girl, who had a good, but not stellar academic record — "Kids like you are a dime a dozen."
Isn't it time that we let parents and students know the truth, what researchers have long known? That there is no correlation between the school you attend and well-being, and that there is also no relationship between your school and your income.4 Yet, many kids are spending 15 or more hours a day, working overtime, sacrificing their emotional and physical health, to get into name-brand schools that will figure far less in their future success than building a robust sense of self and a healthy repertoire of social and self-management skills.
Parents, for their part, are truly worried that, without the right "credentials," their children will end up miserably sliding down the socioeconomic ladder. Certainly, demographics play a role in this increased worry. We have more kids going to school and few new schools being built, particularly not the schools with long traditions of academic excellence. Don't misunderstand this point. If a student is accepted at Harvard or Princeton or Yale — and has the ability to thrive at these schools — that's terrific. But the fact is that very, very few kids end up in Ivy League schools or their equivalent, while the vast majority end up in schools that are a good match for their particular interests and skill level. The New York Times just ran a series of articles on how next year will be the most competitive year ever for the Ivies, and that what used to be the fall-back schools for the Ivies are also next to impossible to get into, as are the highly regarded small liberal arts colleges like Middlebury and Amherst. A parent reading these articles is left to conclude that their child doesn't have much of a chance. So $1,000-an-hour tutors are recruited and kids are shipped off to summer programs and, yes, private schools, to "beef up" their résumés.
I know that most educators do care deeply about the psychological development and well-being of their students, and that many schools try hard, working against the culture and the often ill-conceived wishes of their students' parents. I know that many students, despite the cultural trends, come out of the far end of the education system ready to do good, fulfilling work in this world. Still, the trend toward rewarding style over substance is troubling. And independent schools that cater primarily to affluent families need always to remember that they remain part of this culture — even if they work against it.
Here's the problem: the statistics for emotional problems among privileged kids are startling. There has been a large upswing in everything from depression, anxiety disorders, and substance abuse to psychosomatic disorders. Suicide among teenagers, level for many years, is on the rise. Researchers on the cutting edge of adolescent mental health are finding that affluent teens and preteens, in both public and private schools, can have the highest rates of some of the most substantial emotional problems of any group of kids in this country. Among affluent high school girls, rates of depression can be 22 percent. That means that one out of every four or five girls is not simply crabby or unhappy, but meets full criteria for clinical depression. One in three affluent boys and girls show signs of an anxiety disorder. Substance abuse and antisocial attitudes are particularly high among affluent adolescent high school boys.5 Children of privilege constitute a large group in this country, and, contrary to popular expectations, the future for many may be bleak. This matters to these youngsters, many of whom are suffering mightily, but it should also matter to all of us. One day, these children are likely to be our doctors, judges, policy makers, and CEOs. Good mental health is in their best interest, but it is also in ours.
Money is not the culprit here. Money is neither good nor bad for mental health, as long as one is not living in poverty.6 We all know wonderful people of modest means and intolerable people with great wealth. The culprit is the "culture of affluence," and it affects a wide swath of people living in America. The "culture of affluence" values "stuff" over people, competition over cooperation, and the individual over the group. Whether it's My Super Sweet Sixteen, the latest escapades of Paris Hilton or Lindsay Lohan, or the cruelest version of Halo or Grand Theft Auto, we are saturated with a culture that, in spite of our affluence, is bankrupt. It is sickening our children just as it is sickening us.
And it is tough to deviate from the culture; one feels alone, a bit like a salmon swimming upstream. But the fact is (known by both researchers and anyone who has really paid attention) that children should have chores, be respectful, work for their privileges, and accept their level of ability even as they seek out challenges. They need to feel that they are loved for who they are, not simply what they do.
Similarly, parents need to accept the responsibilities of parenthood, spend the necessary time with their children, be willing to discipline, focus on learning and not performance, and value the child they have in front of them — not the fantasy child whose existence we have all entertained: the perfect child who causes no problems, loves us without reservation, makes us proud of his or her accomplishments and compensates for whatever losses and disappointments we have experienced in our own lives. We all need to understand that the child is formed from the inside out, and that too much involvement, too much external motivation, and too much "picking up the pieces" foster weakness, not resilience.
We all need to feel loved for who we are. We need to feel that we are dear to others because of the very essence of us, not because of our car, our clothes, the people we know, or the money we have. As long as we hold onto, participate in, and value a culture that is so totally detrimental to healthy human development, we will continue to see skyrocketing rates of emotional problems among our children and ourselves. Materialism is associated with depression, substance abuse, and compromised academic performance.7
The patients I see in my office, kids and adults alike, are terribly lonely. We need to find ways to reconnect — with ourselves, our families, and our communities. We can start with shared mealtimes, the single most potent factor in promoting a healthy family. We can show that we value cooperation, both by insisting on it from our children and modeling it ourselves. We can join a church, a synagogue, a mosque, or a community service organization. We can insist that advertisers who pander to children's vulnerabilities are not financially rewarded. We can put our money where our mouth is and lessen inappropriate academic pressure and value things like creativity, imagination, and kindness. We have to take care of our own business, so that we have the fortitude to stick to our guns. Schools, parents, community organizations, and faith-based organizations all have to be willing to collaborate with each other. There is nothing to be gained from pointing fingers. Major social problems take all agencies of society to repair.
We need to be adults again, so they can be children again.
Notes
1. Steinberg, L. (1997) Beyond the Classroom, Simon & Schuster.2. Sax, L., et al. (1998) The American Freshman: National Norms for Fall 1998 (Annual: Higher Education Research Institute; Los Angeles: University of California).
3. Steinberg.
4. Easterbrook, G., "Who needs Harvard?" The Atlantic Monthly, October 2004.
5.Luthar, S.S. & C. Sexton (2005), "The high price of affluence," in R. Kail, ed., Advances in Child Development (San Diego, CA: Academic Press).
6. Ryan, R.M., & E.L. Deci (2001) "On happiness and human potentials: A review of research on hedonic and eudaimonic well-being," Annual Review of Psychology, 52, 141–46.
7. Kasser, T., & R.M. Ryan (1993) "A dark side of the American dream: Correlates of financial success as a central life aspiration," Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 65, 41–22.