Years ago we had Mariah Carey.  Before her we had Whitney Houston.

Both incredible singers that, as far as I’m concerned, revolutionized vocal music.  Nobody had ever quite sang like these two exceptional ladies before, but there are thousands who can now.

These women were truly special.

Now you can find thousands of videos on You Tube with girls as young as five singing exactly like Mariah Carey.  Watch daytime television and you will be inundated by the number of amazing child singers, with their adoring parents beaming in the audience.  Look around at your friends and neighbors and note how many of their daughters take voice lessons in order to sound like Whitney Houston, replete with all the jaw warbling that made Ms. Houston so great.  If all I had to do was make my mouth shake and my voice jump all over the place like a fish flopping around on a boat dock, I too could be a celebrity.  Or at least earn a five minute interview on the Ellen DeGeneres Show.

Are these children special? I would argue that they are not.

Can they sing better than most?  Most definitely.  But if thousands can do what you can do, then that ability is not special.  It becomes, for lack of a better word, commonplace.

Chances are your child is not special.  They might have some abilities, but destined for a record contract they are not.  They are not going to sign with a major league baseball team either.  Nor will they ever play tuba in the London Philharmonic Orchestra.

Don’t get upset, because I’m in the same situation.  You see, my children are not special either.

They are special to me, of course.  And to my wife and a small smattering of close relatives, but that’s about it.  As much as I have wanted the pro athlete and the scholar and the humanitarian and the musician and the billionaire, what I’ve got are two pretty normal kids.  That they might excel in something someday and find their passion or whatever I’m supposed to call it is not up to me.  There are no amount of enriching activities I can fill their lives with that will change this scenario.  They will be what they will be.

There are kids out there who know they want to be a doctor, or a mortician, or the Pope.  They may display proclivities toward these professions as well, and really seem like they are headed in that direction.  Things change though, and suddenly the child is ready to move on.  I’ve seen it happen.  The boy who was so into gymnastics that every other activity was dropped, including friends and the parents’ social life, spending money for tournaments and uniforms and traveling all over the Planet Earth to attend events so that the child could be the next incarnation of Tim Daggett.  The girl who was so into singing that she had a private teacher and sang here and there for civic events, recording cd’s that her parents took over to all their friends homes and had to play so they could all revel in the beauty of the girl’s voice.

Come to find out that both individuals are doing other things now.  In short, they got burnt out.

I did it with my son and baseball.  Years ago my son was able to hit the ball like nobody else.  His coaches said, “Oh he’s such a natural hitter”, and “He’s got such a great swing”.  I played catch with him regularly and took him out to hit balls off the tee or do soft toss at the local school.  I helped coach his teams as well, imparting my own inexact knowledge on other people’s kids in addition to my own.  I talked with my son at length after every game, asking him what he thought was good, and what he could improve upon for next time.  All through T-Ball, Coach Pitch, Machine Pitch he was hitting, hitting, hitting.  Then one day in bating practice he got beaned.  Nothing too big – on the meaty part of the thigh.  Most kids shake that off and get right back into the batter’s box the next time they are up.  That’s what the pro’s do anyway.

Not my kid.  It took him four more years for the end of his bat to reach the inside edge of home plate when he took a swing, and by that time his hitting was more inconsistent than an incontinent man’s urinary pattern.  I continued to work with him though.  I continued to coach his teams, took him to a private hitting instructor, talked to him before and after games.  I pushed and pushed, and watched him fall further and further behind.  My wife told me that the only reason he was playing baseball was because I loved it so much, and that he didn’t share my passion.  I didn’t listen, and now he’s done.

In the particular public high school where I teach, I encounter wonderful kids everyday.  Many of them achieve very high grades in extremely demanding, college prep classes.  They are involved in clubs and sports and volunteering and all the other things that will help them get an edge when applying for college.  I look at these bright young men and women and think to myself, “These poor kids are a dime-a-dozen”.  There is very little that distinguishes one from another.  In short, there is nothing special about any of them.

If every kid has a 3.5 GPA or above, then I would say there is nothing special about that particular academic ability.  To me, a 3.5 and a 3.8 aren’t much different.  I know it makes some kind of difference somewhere with certain colleges, but I would hope that my own children would not aspire to attend any of those institutions.  What makes kids special is not the things they can do that are like everyone else, but what truly sets them apart.

I’m not talking about resume-building activities.  I’m talking about things that aren’t measured by conventional means.  Like the ability to strike up and hold a conversation.  Like a good sense of humor, or a funny way of dancing.  Maybe its a love of camping, or of riding in elevators, or any other quirky thing that serves to separate one person from another.  I have always liked people that are into music.  I don’t necessarily need to like the music that they are into, but it tells me something about that person.  Music can be kind of weird, and if you’re really into it, then that makes you special.  If you can put that on a resume, then I guess so be it.

Just keep it off You Tube, please.