¶ … brother and I laugh about it now, but our parents were very strict when we were growing up. We certainly found nothing funny about it at the time. It seemed to us that we worked harder than just about any other kids we knew. My father always told us we didn't have time to get into trouble: "Study hard, do your homework, practice for your piano lessons, and do all your chores. If you still have time on your hands, go help your mother." He made sure we each had a job the summer before we turned sixteen. My mother took our paychecks and deposited them in the bank. We were given a few dollars but most of the money seemed to disappear in a deep dark hole. We were certain we were being abused.
By the time we went to college, though, we started to see some of the fruit of our labor. We each had healthy bank accounts; unbeknownst to us, our parents had matched the funds they deposited...
I realized I scarcely remembered the names of some of the people I had worked with every day for months. I am sure I would not have remembered what I spent my money on had my parents given me sole discretion over it.
Most importantly, I developed a strong work ethic. I understood the value of time and I knew what it felt like to work hard at something and see results. I learned to make decisions about what was important and what was not worthy of my attention and efforts. I learned that it is ultimately more rewarding to work for something and wait for it than to be gratified right away. I learned to appreciate the value of a dollar and how hard I had to work to earn some money. I also learned to be creative and resourceful. On those occasions when I had finished…
