Every weekday morning, we run a logistics operation from our home in Nolensville into Nashville. We navigate Middle Tennessee’s sprawling morning traffic with adolescent boys, athletic gear and half-eaten breakfasts.
Friends occasionally ask why on earth we voluntarily added hours of daily commuting by enrolling our two younger sons at Lipscomb Academy. The answer isn't complicated, though it runs counter to almost every prevailing parenting trend in modern culture. We became convinced that the single greatest threat facing our sons is the insidious creep of low expectations and a culture obsessed with soft, comfort-seeking mediocrity.
The crisis of low expectations
Too many of our young men are not thriving. The long-term economic writing is already on the wall. The labor
force participation rate for prime-age men has been in a multi-decade slide fueled by a perfect storm of educational disengagement and screen-based sedation.
While previous generations found identity, discipline and pocket money in summer jobs and sports, today’s teenage boys spend unprecedented hours staring into high-definition digital voids. We hand them addictive algorithms, strip away meaningful physical friction, lower the bar for intellectual achievement, and then express total astonishment when their mental health collapses into a heap of anxiety and aimlessness.
When my wife and I sat down with the administration at Lipscomb Academy and Coach Trent Dilfer, we weren't looking for a glossy promotional pitch or assurances that our sons would automatically become Division 1 athletes or elite scholars. In fact, they didn't promise us any easy victories at all. The only thing they guaranteed was real discipline, high standards of conduct and an intense personal investment in developing our sons into resilient men.
The results of demanding more
Watching that commitment unfold in real time has been nothing short of transformative.
My high schooler lives in a world of constant, deliberate effort. He lifts weights with near-religious devotion. He comes home sore, bruised and utterly exhausted after football practice. On any given evening, he’ll discuss an assignment including logos, pathos, and ethos for his humanities coursework followed by a debate whether he has deep safety coverage over the top or primary run support on a specific defensive front. For him, intellectual curiosity and physical toughness aren't opposing forces; they are complementary tools for building his future.
My middle schooler is similarly pushing past boundaries he didn't know existed, working harder than he ever has before. Walking past the locker room after a hot afternoon practice offers a masterclass in modern counterculture. Past the smell of grass and sweat, exhausted young men are having the absolute time of their lives doing hard things together. In a world that instructs teenagers to look out for their own interests, build digital caricatures of themselves and demand constant accommodation, these boys have each other’s backs when they’re all tempted to quit. Their bonds are forged in self-sacrifice, learning the value of submitting to accountability and holding others to the same.
Replacing screens with purpose
Perhaps the most striking result of this environment is what has happened to their mental health and daily habits. The screen-obsessed malaise, the endless scrolling and the junk culture that so easily consumes adolescent energy has waned.
When you spend your days pushing physical and mental boundaries alongside peers who reinforce positive habits, sleep is a more interesting pastime than doomscrolling. My boys are even paying attention to how they fuel their bodies. They’re consuming boatloads of wholesome food not out of parental nagging, but because fueling their bodies is the standard to meet the next day's work. They aren't just tolerating hard things; they are beginning to actively seek them out.
Raising resilient young men
The national commentary around raising boys is frequently overwhelmed by handwringing and angst. Yet the formula for helping young men thrive isn't a guarded secret, nor is it overly complicated. It certainly isn’t limited to private schools or football teams. Raise the bar instead of lowering it. Keep them productively occupied with tasks that carry real stakes.
Demand unwavering accountability, surround them with leaders who care enough to hold the line and refuse to surrender them to the path of least resistance.
Our boys are capable of far more than a risk-averse culture gives them credit for. Wherever your children spend their days, we parents must push for that same unapologetic standard of excellence. They are certainly worth the daily commute and our continued effort.
USA TODAY Network Tennessee columnist Cameron Smith is a Memphis-born, Brentwood-raised recovering political attorney raising four boys in Nolensville with his particularly patient wife, Justine. Send outrage or agreement to smith.david.cameron@gmail.com or @DCameronSmith on X. Agree or disagree? Send a letter to the editor at letters@tennessean.com.
This article originally appeared on Nashville Tennessean: Raising boys starts with demanding more, not less | Opinion
