Cuddly education is a thing of the past: Why children need real parents again.

We live in a time where children have everything—technical equipment, consumerism, opportunities—and yet they feel like they're increasingly out of control. The iPhone often appears in their school bag before they begin to feel a real sense of responsibility, and while social media has long since become the primary form of communication, many children are barely able to look someone in the eye or have a conversation that goes beyond emojis and voice messages.

"Please" and "thank you" are no longer part of the basic vocabulary for many children, but are quoted ironically at best. Standing up for friends? Only if it gets them likes or if it doesn't tarnish their reputation. Respect for adults? To many, this sounds like an outdated term from history class, something between "the imperial era" and "the school regulations of 1963."

And us parents? We try hard. We do our best, read books, listen to podcasts, talk to teachers, discuss things with kindergarten teachers, and develop strategies for how best to "support" children today. Nevertheless, many of us are internally exhausted—and often simply overwhelmed. Because the world has changed, our children have changed—only our parental insecurity seems to have somehow remained.

What we experience today in schoolyards, on buses, and in WhatsApp groups is sometimes disturbing: children who bully, hit, humiliate, and provoke. Teenagers who go through their daily lives with a mixture of arrogance and emotional numbness, yet at the same time appear deeply insecure. Kicking occurs in classrooms, bullying occurs in the playground, and people demonstratively remain seated on buses when someone needs help. And us adults? We often watch helplessly – or talk. We explain. We discuss. We invite people to engage in dialogue.

Because supposedly, everything today has to be clarified sensitively, processed through dialogue, and categorized with pedagogical delicacy—ideally visualized with a flip chart, emotion cards, and a glass of osmosis water. But what exactly is supposed to happen if, after the fourth pedagogically sensitive conversation, the child still lies, hits, provokes, or simply simply doesn't tidy their room?

Then and now – from house arrest to Wi-Fi withdrawal (Cuddly education is a thing of the past: Why children need real parents again.)

In the past, things were pretty clear: if a child went too far, they had to expect consequences – no discussion. As a child, you knew exactly what would happen if you were cheeky, disrespectful, or simply didn't listen. Sometimes a stern look was enough to get the message across without words. And if that didn't work, then came house arrest, a ban on watching TV, or good old gardening duty. Anyone who was particularly rebellious was made to walk home from afternoon sports in the pouring rain – on foot, without a hood, and without any kind words. Gloves for weeding? A luxury you could only dream of. Anyone who didn't tidy their room was assigned to do all the housework the next time, and anyone who didn't contribute anything to dinner had to earn their way back into family life the next day by organizing their duties.

Today, things look a little different—and I don't mean that in a judgmental way, but rather as an observation. Gardening is quickly dismissed as an unreasonable burden, and anyone who confiscates their child's cell phone must prepare for days of conversation and, in some cases, a family crisis. These days, one is much more likely to hear phrases like, "Children don't need punishment, they need guidance," or "We need to help them understand their behavior instead of controlling it." The reminder that parents should be role models—not judges—is also firmly anchored in many modern parenting concepts.

And of course, there's some truth in all of this. Children need relationships, reliability, trust—not threats, not intimidation, not authoritarian behavior. But they also need something else that's often lost in today's parenting: clear boundaries. And those that can't be laughed off or argued away, but that simply apply. Real, tangible, uncomfortable boundaries, not based on bullying, but on attitude.

This is precisely where the problem lies: What is sold today as modern, mindful parenting is in reality often an endless barrage of explanations. Instead of taking a stand, every little fart is subjected to pedagogical individual assessment, and every outburst of anger is packaged as a "dialogue at eye level." A child lies, trashes their room, hits their sister, or bullies at school? Many parents then sit down with a cup of tea because they believe that's just how it's done these days, take a deep breath, and ask seriously: "What made you so angry?" As if every act of disrespect requires a thorough examination of the child's inner emotional climate before someone thinks to say "stop."

It's validated, paraphrased, reflected on—but no longer guided. Limits are explained instead of set. Misbehavior is emotionally felt instead of clearly identified. And while the child is long gone, sitting back at the tablet or playing Roblox, the parents are still in pedagogical self-examination mode, wondering whether they might have made a mistake with the "I-message" portion.

No, that's not mindful—that's watered-down helplessness with a compulsion to explain. Children don't need constant, all-round therapeutic care, but adults willing to take responsibility. Not judges, not buddies, but leaders who can say, "I see you. I understand you. But it still doesn't work that way." And no—there's no need for a poster with an emotional monster explaining whether the child is feeling "grumpy-green" or "exploding-orange" today. They simply need clear feedback about what's acceptable—and what isn't.

Children are not little philosophers

Because children aren't little philosophers. They don't engage in in-depth analysis when they're pushing their sibling or deliberately crossing a boundary. In such moments, there's no need for a conversation about feelings or needs – what's needed is clarity. Adults with backbone are needed who have the courage to simply say: "That's enough. Not like this. That's the end."

And because we now have to prepare everything in a pedagogically correct manner, bookstores and online platforms are overflowing with self-help books. There are step-by-step instructions for every little outburst, for every phase of defiance, every no, every door that was slammed too loudly. Titles like "10 Peaceful Ways to Guide Your Child Without Hurting Them" or "Why Your Child Isn't Provoking You, But Needs Help" now fill half the shelves. And yes, some of it is good, some inspiring – but much is also simply unrealistic. Because between tip 3 ("Stay calm") and tip 4 ("Write an invitation to cooperation"), the child has long since thrown the Lego box around and positioned themselves forcefully on the floor.

With teenagers, the whole thing looks a little different—but no less absurd. The door slams shut, cell phone still in hand, and while the parent is searching for the right tone to say, "I see you're feeling a lot of emotions right now," their pubescent offspring is already out in the yard—a cigarette in the corner of their mouth or an e-cigarette in their hand. Puffing, defiant, unimpressed. In the past, this would have been an escalation—but today it's often just the next step in a parenting drama where no one really knows who's in charge anymore.

Even so-called modern punishments often have a placebo effect: House arrest? For many children today, it's more of a reward. An afternoon without social obligations, but instead with Nintendo Switch, YouTube, and chips on the couch – that has little to do with punishment. Our couch potatoes, in particular, now perceive house arrest as a wellness day with hoodies, snacks, and constant entertainment. No peer pressure, no expectations, no confrontation – just switch off and exist in peace. Wi-Fi deprivation? Maybe works the first time, but the second time a hotspot is found or spare devices are pulled out of the cupboard. And the TV ban? It's often glorified as quiet reading time – but without a book, without remorse, instead with inward head-shaking at this "weird parenting trick."

We act as if we can convey real values by cutting a few minutes of screen time. As if a child-friendly consequence equates to a strong attitude. But if you only tweak the technique but not the underlying tone of the relationship, you can work through ten self-help books and still achieve nothing. It's not about constantly inventing new punishment systems—it's about taking a clear stance as a parent.

Dinosaurs with attitude – what remains from the past

Let's take a look back – to the 70s and 80s, to our own childhood. Our parents weren't perfect, definitely not. They were often overwhelmed, sometimes/often unfair. But times were different. No constant bombardment of stimuli, no constant availability, no planned daily routine from the parents' taxi to the mindfulness minute. After school: lunch, homework – an hour at the most – and then out. Fresh air. Being a child. Bike, soccer field, an apple from the neighbor's tree somewhere. No cell phone, but maybe a phone card if you wanted to call your parents in an emergency. And heaven forbid you were late for dinner.

Today? Does the day often start at a crawl. Everything is scheduled: school, clubs, violin, piano, soccer, ballet, a child's birthday party – and in between, top grades, picture-perfect social skills, and, of course, healthy breaks with spelt sticks. Many parents worry that their child will not only fall behind, but might also disappear, be kidnapped, bullied, or be permanently sad – and that's where it starts: our modern reflex. We want to do everything right. We are informed, enlightened, reflective – and sometimes so "on schedule" that we forget that we are not machines. And neither are our children.

Of course, punches don’t belong in any time – period.

But precisely because that's the case , we need even more poise, clarity, and responsibility. Parenting doesn't follow a set pattern. It works through you . With all your memories, your quirks, your strengths—and also your weaknesses. You are the legacy of old values, the dinosaur memory of times when not every discussion ended in a flipchart loop. And that's precisely where your personal style emerges.

Because in the end, almost all parents want the same thing: a child who is empathetic, maintains strong friendships, ideally finds a job that doesn't become a torment every morning—and who has enough backbone to withstand life's ups and downs. That doesn't require perfection. It requires character. Maybe you're loud at times. Maybe stubborn and unfair, too. That's a good thing. Because what matters isn't the pedagogical, glossy version of parenting—it's that you show up.

With attitude. With clarity. With humor.

Be brave.

You don't have to be like that every day—but every now and then, a little educational outlier is worth it. One that your child will remember later.

Not because you did everything “right” or were a model parent according to advice book chapter 17 – but because it was your style.

So why not force a couch potato to make a mandatory appointment with a friend – a social dose instead of house arrest?

Why not just say "no" – without any explanation, without a guilty conscience, without backing down. Diva style. Period.

Why not simply tell a child who is constantly bullying clearly: "Stop that now – immediately. Otherwise, you'll be disinherited." Not in the legal sense, of course, but on an emotional level. With all that entails: disappointment, consequences, responsibility.

Yes, of course, modern people ask themselves in the back of their minds: Why does a child actually bully? Is he insecure? Does he not want to become a victim himself? Does he have a microscopic lack of self-confidence and therefore lash out?

All of this may be true—but it doesn't change the current reality: bullying is and remains wrong. And that's why the rule is: Stop first. Talk later.

Or simply hand over consolation money in a sympathy card for a bad grade—with a straight face, dark humor, and the message: That wasn't good enough. But life goes on.

Or – very old-school – sign up for a weekend of gardening with Grandma and Grandpa: raking the lawn, digging potatoes, turning compost – with the message: "If you want to reap the rewards in life, you have to dig sometimes."

And why does every behavior that challenges us have to be pathologized? A child doesn't want to go outside? Maybe it's not depression, but a familial pattern. A child cries at every decision? Not necessarily an anxiety disorder—perhaps simply frustration.

Don't get me wrong: The practices are full, many children are suffering—and many diagnoses are justified and important. But in quite a few cases, it's our own structures, our insecurities, and our constant analysis that prevent us from even calling misconduct a misconduct.

In the end, your style is what counts.

With everything we read, google, discuss and find in parenting guides today – from attachment-oriented to authoritative, democratic, laissez-faire, mindful , consistent, respectful, needs-oriented, emotionally strong, to mindful-consistent-integrative systemic (yes, that also exists) – in the end there is only one

Question: Which style is best?

The most important parenting style is yours.

Not perfect. Not textbook-like, not a cuddly teacher. Rather, shaped by what you bring to the table as a person: your life experience, your rough edges, your humor, your intuition. You're not the anti-Christ—but perhaps not the polished model parent with the emotional cards ready in your pocket either.

And that's exactly what's good.

Stand by your child—but also persevere. Be strong when things get rocky. Be consistent when it matters. Don't raise your child according to a formula, but use common sense. Say no. Get angry. And laugh about it when it's over, or when it wasn't so bad after all. Take a stand, even if other parents frown. Your child doesn't need a perfect method, but a real person by their side. And when your child grows up one day and talks about you, perhaps the best thing would be for them to say:

"My parents weren't perfect. They were often stressed, sometimes unfair, sometimes loud. But when I messed up, they didn't give up. Sometimes they scolded me. Sometimes they laughed. And sometimes they did something completely unexpected. Whether all of that was educationally valuable? I have no idea.

"Raising children means having the courage not to follow every trend—but to follow your child. In your own way."

Cuddly education is a thing of the past: Why children need real parents again.

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