Twelve years ago, when my husband John and I took our daughter to freshman orientation at Converse College, then an all-women’s college, now a co-ed university, the administration, very wisely, oriented the parents as well as the students, together and in separate groups. When parents met with faculty, staff, and administrators, the first item on the agenda was viewing a little animated film about “helicopter” parents, you know, the ones who are overly involved in the lives of their children. These parents tend to be overprotective and cloyingly attentive, often micromanaging their children’s activities and decisions.

The video was followed by some tips for avoiding helicopter parenting. “Try,” said one administrator tentatively, “not calling or texting your daughter for the first week and limit contact after that.” I felt the collective gasp by the parents in the room. Even though, as an English instructor, I had been on the other end of helicopter parenting for many years, I felt a little quake in my heart. A week is a long time when I am used to talking with my kid almost every day, I thought. I like my kid. I want to talk to her.

But I knew the administrator was right. My daughter needed time to figure out things for herself, to feel the power of making her own decisions, good or bad, and the learning experiences that brings. To deny her that might satisfy me and keep me from worrying and empower me as the one she ran to with all of her questions–me, me, me–but that wouldn’t help her. So, as hard as it was, we kept our distance during that orientation week and thereafter. And guess what? She did just fine without us. SHE did more than fine, actually, even though she had to navigate some pretty rough waters, including loneliness, anxiety, and heartbreak, she also gained insight into herself, conquered some of her fears, and learned how to persist through it all.

Of course, we were still active in her life. We were fortunate enough to live close and were able to attend her recitals and other activities. I loved getting to hear her sing in choirs as well as operas and even watched her fence! She came home for special occasions, and we would go visit, often eating at her favorite place, the Monsoon Noodle House. We didn’t abandon her. When she needed help, she asked for it, and we helped her, but she rarely asked. She liked making it on her own, and we loved watching her mature.

If you are parents of college students, don’t miss out on the wonderful opportunities they have to grow by being too involved. Please! Stay out of their classrooms, leave their professors alone, let them fight their own battles, or not, and let them learn to solve their own problems. Not every obstacle should be removed. Not every path should be made smooth. If you have learned to listen to your children, you will know when you must step in to protect them. It’s scary, but it’s necessary.

And it’s normal.

Herein lies the problem of helicopter parenting, I think. It seems to have become much too common for parents to blame a child’s educational institution for normal human development. Simply put, your adult children, whether they go straight into the workforce or choose college, are going to be different than you imagined they would be. If you are one religion, they may choose another or at least a different denomination. Perhaps they will choose no religion at all. They will likely have a different lifestyle, outlook, or political ideology. This is natural.

It is also normal that loving parents will be concerned if they watch their children take different paths than they had desired for them, especially if they turn away from the belief system in which they were raised. However, I have seen students time and time again turn away from their parents and their values only to turn back again as they moved through the rebellious period of youth. That’s natural, too.

What isn’t natural and is inevitably harmful to students is when parents and some in society blame educational institutions, especially instructors and professors, for “indoctrinating” students one way or the other. Don’t misunderstand me. I know that there are many valid concerns about some educational institutions that stifle certain points of view or claim inclusion but only for certain races, religions, and ideologies. That is an argument for another day.

What I’m saying is much more basic than that. Increasingly, instructors and professors face interference and even harassment by parents who wish to micromanage their offspring’s education. For example, it is common for parents to not only question course grades but also grades for individual assignments, not just failing grades either. Some parents, especially those of younger, dual enrolled or early college students will demand that their child get an A instead of a B and claim, with no evidence, some wrongdoing by the teacher as a basis for their complaint. Sometimes, parents will question material that has long been part of an instructor’s curriculum, calling it “woke” or claiming that it violates their family’s beliefs. I know of one faculty member who was reprimanded for doing something that some parent told some board member who told someone high in the administration. The faculty member never found out what she said or did but was accused and now has a reprimand on her permanent record.

Educational institutions should value all students and be inclusive of all, no matter their race, religion, gender, or ideology, but if any student has an issue with an instructor or professor, that student should be the one to approach the faculty member, not a parent, regardless of the student’s age. At the college level, parents have important support roles, but the day to day, course to course, grade to grade issues should be up to the students and their teachers. Furthermore, barring serious ethical concerns, the teacher should remain the primary authority in the classroom for the sake of all students’ healthy intellectual and emotional growth–the goal of any college education.