The Burden of Being a "Good Kid"

Thoughts from a recovering "example to the class"

The other day an instagram post  got me thinking. It included the following:

We know we have truly evolved as parents when compliments given to us about our child don’t feel like compliments anymore and might even worry us. 

When our friend, family member, babysitter, or child’s teacher tells us:

• “You have such a good boy/girl!”

• “Your children behave so nicely!”

• “They listen to me so well!”

• “Wow - your child is so mature for their age!”

• “Your child is an example to the class. Always doing what is asked.”

• “I’m so proud of your child.”

Translation: “Your child makes my life easier.”

I was one of those kids. The “pleasure to have in class” kid. The “good” kid. The “mature” kid. I was praised for listening, behaving nicely, and not causing any trouble. From an early age I was singled out from my peers and asked to be an example to them.  

It was uncomfortable.

Don’t get me wrong - I didn’t want to be in trouble, either. I saw how those kids were treated and I didn’t want one bit of that. I feared punishments such as detention and even winced at the idea of a teacher scolding me for something as trivial as talking. I didn’t want to be singled out for negative reasons. I actually didn’t want to be singled out at all, but I weighed my options and decided that being complimented felt better than being reprimanded. If I had to be an example, I would rather be the one that made the adult happy. But being a “good kid” came with a lot of pressure and expectations. It was assumed that I would act more like an adult than the child I actually was. I was not given the opportunity to make mistakes. I was held to a different standard from my classmates. Not only did this create a problematic dynamic among my peers, it instilled in me a vigilance to remain “good” instead of allowing myself to be fully human.

I believe the educational system needs “good kids” in order to operate as intended. If everyone were lashing out against the way things are, as the “bad kids” do, the system would collapse. If there’s anything I’ve learned about “bad kids”, it’s that they let us know that what is being asked of them - mainly sitting for hours a day doing things they don’t want to do - is inhumane. The good kids won’t dare speak out against the inhumane conditions mostly because they (we) operate from fear - fear of being wrong, of being scolded, and being labeled as “bad”. So the good kids are given accolades and gold stars to prove that complying is a better option than railing against the system.

I stayed quiet when I was told to stay quiet. I did my work and never complained. I did what I was told and didn’t protest. I kept being told that I was so mature for my age but was I, really? I argue that these adults weren’t getting to know the entire person. I was able to put my best foot forward knowing that the adults around me would approve. Looking back I have to wonder - did they really think that a child never got angry or upset? Did my teachers wonder why they never saw me talking out of turn or voicing my frustration? Weren’t they concerned that I was always on task and never out of line? Did they ever think about how singling me out may have affected me? I wonder why I had to be “good” in order to be valued. Adults’ acknowledgement of me being a “pleasure” to have in class while other students were a “problem” only got me wondering what about those kids made them less worthy of acceptance. Was it because they “talked back” or because they had difficulty conforming to the school’s demands? Looking back, that doesn’t seem all that awful - attempting to express your discomfort. Being a “pleasure to have in class” is different from being valued for who you are. I now understand that to be a “pleasure” means to be without complication. How I was able to contort myself to making others believe I was without complexity for so many years is a mystery.

Being a pleasure in class didn’t really help me in the long run. For a long time I thought it would make me immune to getting in trouble or being seen as difficult by adults, but what really happened was that I developed a fear of bringing my full self into most adult-led spaces. I pushed my more uncomfortable emotions down in order to be more acceptable to the adults around me. I kept my head down and did what I was asked to do. My tenure as a “good kid” also proved to me that the acceptance and trust I had from adults was only there until I made a mistake. If I dared to be any less than “good” I was informed that not only was my behavior unacceptable, I was now “letting [that adult] down” because they had “expected more” from me. I became fearful of being anything less than perfect and of disappointing the adults around me. I began to equate “messier” feelings and behaviors with being “bad” instead of what they are: a normal part of being human.

Years later when I became a teacher, I vowed that I would never allow our classroom to become a place where anyone felt that they had to hide parts of themselves away in order to gain my approval. My goal was to not hold any young person to unrealistic expectations or to be an example for others to follow. I didn’t want students to feel like they had to behave nicely in order to make my life easier. From day one we had many discussions about how we were going to make mistakes, we were going to have different moods, we were going to delight and disappoint each other - even (especially) me. There were no “good kids” or “bad kids” in our community. In our classroom, there weren’t hierarchies when it came to behavior. I made it a point to check in with all of my students, not just the ones who were most vocal about their feelings. I wanted everyone to feel safe to be exactly who they were at any given moment. I worked hard to make this a reality, which is very difficult in a school setting- because, as I stated before, “good” kids make it so much easier to allow us all to pretend that what’s being asked of us at school is acceptable.

Young people should never have “more expected” of them and to be held to unreasonable standards. When adults praise children for being good, I get nervous - especially when these children are in a coercive environment with little-to-no autonomy. What do these young people think will happen to them if they show other parts of themselves? There’s lots of discussion about the kids who don’t behave in a way that school deems acceptable, but what about the kids who do? I argue that the “students of the month” and the “pleasures to have in class” are also suffering - maybe just in quieter, subtler ways. Maybe in ways that will emerge in adulthood, when they realize they’ve been altering themselves in order to make others comfortable.

I am a recovering good kid. For the last several years, I have worked to squelch my people-pleasing tendencies and bring more of my full self into the world, even the parts that make others uncomfortable. I am a complex person who now understands that living for the approval of others while forsaking parts of myself is harmful to my mental health. Hoping to be liked, especially by authority figures, kept me quiet for a long time. It kept me from speaking up for myself and others, fearing I would be disliked. But here’s the thing: You can’t be a disruptor while also trying to be liked. You can’t be honest while also trying to be polite. And I would rather live in a way that is true to myself and my values. I am hoping to instill in my young people a belief that they are not here to make my life (or any adult’s life) easier. They are people who contain an abundance of complicated emotions and behaviors, and they can be whatever they need to be at any given moment. 

I don’t want them to be “good.” I want them to be human.