How hard and long should a parent push a child to stay committed to an activity for which he has lost his initial enthusiasm?

When I was 12 years old, my parents purchased an organ for my younger sister. “Me, too,” I said. “I want to take lessons.” Several lessons later, just about the same time my interest in music was going flat, my teacher told my father, “He has a natural gift.” The woman talked too much.

That convinced Pop. (The man listened too much.) His son would learn to play the organ. As the months dragged on, I never doubted that both my instructor and my father were singing the wrong tune. Regularly I argued with my dad, “It’s not like I’m going to be a professional or something.” Ah, the cocksure prophecy of youth.

Once past my initial period of resistance, and slowly gaining skill despite my worst efforts, this organ idea began to sound better. Some years later, I turned professional (“or something”) and entertained in restaurants for nearly a decade, earning enough money to leave college debt-free, and having learned a skill for a lifetime.

Had my father left the decision to me, I would have quit somewhere in the first months, never knowing what I had denied myself.

How long and hard you should push your child depends on several factors. Consider these:

Talent. How naturally is he gifted? It would seem that the better a youngster is at something, the longer he needs to allow it to make apparent its rewards.

Competition. Is Nielsen losing interest because other worthy pursuits — television, computer games, phone — are more momentarily appealing? Kids are flooded with choices for leisure and time consumption. It is all too easy for junk to crowd out worthwhile stuff. Sometimes limiting the useless gives the useful more chance to take root.

Investment. How intense was Orville’s initial pleading, pushing and persistence to take hang gliding? Was there a start-up cost? Who paid? Who will pay if the activity is let go? Who else will be affected? Lefty may affect no one else if he quits origami class, but it’s tough on a whole team to lose a pitcher mid-season.

Pattern. Is this an isolated reaction or a style? Does Constance eventually lose interest in just about everything she tries? If so, she may need to break a bad habit. If her resistance is out of character, give more credibility to her experiences that cliff diving is not for her.

One mom told me of her rule of thumb: “If you start, you’re in for one season or one year, whichever comes first. There’s no escape clause.”

But what if the activity requires regular practice, and getting follow-through is taking more commitment from the parent than the child?

How about giving Cliburn a choice: One half hour of practice can be replaced by one hour of chores. The only way to avoid practicing is by doing double time on work. Over a few months, that should tell you how resistant his resistance is.

All of us try things that, over time, we find out we don’t like. The balance lies in spending enough time and effort to really find out that a particular pursuit is not for us, and not so little that we prematurely conclude we’re not for it.

For more of Ray Guarendi’s

wit and wisdom,

visit him at DrRay.com.