Growing up in a run-of-the-mill, strict Filipino household, I despised how almost the entirety of my formative years revolved around the need for constant safekeeping. 

Bedtime curfew, no gadgets on school days, the threat of a supposed white van anticipating my doom when I go outside, barely having anyone allowed to play with me—and I wonder why I’ve grown so anxious. But then again, seeing as how the children of today are so liberated in causing ruckus in everyday peace, I suppose I’m somewhat grateful to have been treated like an inmate.

Sure, to this day, I still don’t know how to play moro-moro or jump high for Chinese garter. Yet I believe that’s still better than what parents are now permitting their kids to do for the sake of developing “personal freedom” and “creativity”.

This intriguing way of parenting, laissez-faire, as it’s called, is one rooted in the philosophy of its direct meaning—to “let do”.  As the phrase suggests, the approach centers around prioritizing the child’s autonomy. Simple—fewer rules, more freedom, sounds like a sweet deal. To me, another reminder that just because it’s in French doesn’t make it any more intricate than it truly is. And honestly, its objective remains lost on me. 

Advocates of laissez-faire argue that children learn best when allowed to explore the world on their own terms. With basically no rules and minimal intervention, children are encouraged to make choices early, to develop individuality, and to express themselves freely. In theory, it’s a touching method to develop independence. When applied, its endpoint is undisciplined behavior.

For some folk, maybe it could work. But as much as I would like to applaud Filipinos for gradually becoming more progressive, I surmise that parents would still have a hard time executing this way of permissive parenting, and soon just exhibit negligence instead.

I’ve had the chance to interact with grade school students on campus during lunch breaks, and the experience has been nothing but concerning. These kids, whose heads barely reach my hip, already have mouths as loud as JBL speakers, casually tossing around expletives that would have earned me a reverberating smack if I ever dared to say them at that age. What struck me most, however, was not their comfort with foul language, but their reaction when I reprimanded them. Rather than being embarrassed, they seemed surprised by my concern. One even asked, if their parents didn’t care, why should I?

It took me back to my experience as a mentee last year, where I had dealt with kids of the same age. Pure havoc. Classrooms turned into feral playgrounds that had never felt the presence of solemnity. Stepping into one is exactly like being on the receiving end of open fire on a battlefield. So in the middle of the war-zone, it dawned on me—you cannot discipline these children even if you had the might of a dictator, as they were raised to be the ones in control. 

This precocity isn’t impressive, it’s a surefire way to spawn adults who struggle to understand boundaries, responsibility, and accountability. 

I laugh when I come across posts that talk about the satisfaction of seeing a rowdy unsupervised child fall over as comeuppance. But as I come to think of it, if I was a parent, I wouldn’t want strangers to root for my own child’s punishment because of my carelessness. 

Maybe I do hold a slight grudge toward my family for being overprotective, for placing a barrage of rules around me like bars in a cell. Still, that grudge feels like a small price to pay instead of the cost of growing up without boundaries, letting my unchecked temper bleed into my teenage years. Since after all, what do we call an inmate stripped of restraint, if not someone bound to cause harm?

Perhaps the issue is not freedom itself, but imbalance. Parenting doesn’t demand total control, nor total retreat. People often argue that children will “figure it out eventually” but childhood is not a rehearsal for adolescence, it is its very foundation. So as with freedom, responsibility should always come along. It’s no permanent solution but it is a valid approach, one that even has a pretty French term attached to it. Not too much. Not too little. Ni trop, ni trop peu.