One of my favorite roles as a parent is being a witness to growth, but one of the hardest is knowing when my voice is not the one my children (now adults) can hear.
When my son Declan was in middle school, wrestling was central to his identity. One Sunday, after a long day at a New Hampshire middle school championship tournament, we climbed into our minivan (nicknamed Paddy) for the drive home. He had gone into the gym highly ranked. He came out unranked. It was a tough day.
Angry, frustrated, and emotional, he turned to me and asked, “What went wrong? What did I do wrong?”
Had any parent ever asked me whether they should answer a question like that in the heat of the moment, I would have said, without hesitation, “NO!” But emotions got the better of me, and I did answer.
I told him—honestly and thoughtfully—that earlier in the season he had been stronger and more physically developed than others in his weight class, but that as the season went on, the field caught up. I said he had been “out-strengthed.” I suggested buying a pull-up bar and starting some strength work for the next season.
He erupted.
“What do you know about wrestling?”
“You’re old.”
“You’re fat.”
He screamed words that I didn’t know he knew.
I gripped the “driving wheel” (what our kids called the steering wheel), stared straight ahead, and said nothing. When we got home, he slammed his bedroom door. I sat alone at the kitchen table, wondering how everything had gone so wrong.
Three days later, he got off the bus and came to my office after school, and excitedly asked if we could buy a pull-up bar so he could start doing push-ups, pull-ups, and sit-ups to get stronger for next season.
When I asked why, he said, “Coach Brown says I’m getting out-strengthed. He thinks this will help.”
Coach Brown had used the same words.
The same reasoning.
The same solution.
And my son heard every one of them.
That experience gave rise to what I now call the “third-party theory.”
Middle schoolers are in the business of separating from their parents while still deeply needing adult guidance. It’s not defiance; it’s development. When feedback—especially difficult feedback—comes directly from a parent, it can feel personal, emotional, and threatening. When the same feedback comes from a trusted third party, it is often heard as supportive, objective, and actionable.
This is where the advisor-parent relationship becomes so powerful.
At Crossroads, an advisor is not a replacement for parents. Quite the opposite. Advisors work best when families and advisors are aligned, when parents share context and concerns, and when advisors can serve as a steady, trusted voice—especially when academic struggles, social challenges, motivation issues, or emotional bumps arise.
So how can parents partner effectively with their child’s advisor?
- Share concerns early. Advisors cannot help with what they don’t know. If something feels off—academically, socially, or emotionally—reach out.
- Sometimes, let the advisor be the messenger. When appropriate, allow advisors to raise hard topics with students. The message often lands differently—and more productively.
- Present a united front. Students thrive when they sense alignment between home and school. Advisors and parents don’t have to say the same thing at the same time, but they should be working toward the same goals.
- Trust the process. Growth in middle school is rarely linear. Advisors understand this terrain well and can help students reflect, recalibrate, and move forward.
Middle school is a season of rapid change—physically, socially, emotionally, and academically. No one adult can navigate it alone. When parents and advisors work together, students gain what they need most: consistent support, honest feedback, and the space to grow.
Sometimes, the most loving thing a parent can do is step slightly to the side—and let a trusted third party help their child hear what they are ready to learn.
