11/05/2025
If there is anything I could tell the parents of teenagers right now, it would be this: It doesn’t matter.
I am a mom of four, a college counselor for high school students, and a journalist who has covered college admissions and parenting topics for almost a decade, and I am here to tell you that it just doesn’t matter.
It doesn’t matter if your child earns a B (or a C or even a D) in Algebra, if they don’t make the National Honor Society, if they start on the varsity baseball team, if they warm the bench, if they don’t pass the AP exam or if they get the highest score, or if they get that internship or not.
It doesn’t matter if they get a perfect score on the SAT or if they bomb it. It doesn’t matter if they are the valedictorian of their high school. It doesn’t matter where they go to college.
It just doesn’t matter — none of it matters — if your kid isn’t healthy.
I’m not talking about if your child is afflicted with appendicitis, lupus, or cancer, although, of course, those conditions would all take precedence, too. I am talking about mental health. And please, do not be fooled: Mental health is physical health.
Over the past several years, I have done a lot of reporting and analyzing why our kids are in such a dark place. I’m not a psychologist, a sociologist, or a trauma expert, but I have talked to many high school and college students from all over the country, and my not-expert opinion is this: The stakes are simply too high.
We have convinced our teens that there is no room for error.
Parents ask if they can pull their children out of classes if they are in danger of earning a B, certain that anything less than an A will keep them out of a “good college,” whatever that means. They won’t let them quit a sport or an activity they don’t like anymore because they believe colleges will not want their kids unless they show a four-year commitment.
Our kids compromise their sleep, nutrition, and social lives, chasing some notion of what their future demands.
Don’t get me wrong; I understand these worries and the fear kids need to do certain things to have “good” lives (again, whatever that means). I get it. And, of course, our kids need to do things that make them uncomfortable or challenge them. I wholeheartedly believe that.
But simultaneously, because we are their parents, we’re sometimes the only ones who can turn down the pressure valve for our kids. We have to confidently tell them it’s OK (really!) to get a B, a C, or even a D.
It’s OK to fail. It’s OK to quit a team, a band, or a job. It’s OK to say no. It’s OK to be who they are, and that may not be the class president, team captain, or valedictorian. They can just be themselves because being themselves is enough, and they are enough, and they can and will survive any of these perceived setbacks.
Here’s the hard truth:
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