Do you want your kids to be weird or normal? Do you want them to be unbalanced or balanced? Are you helping them to become uniquely skilled or well-rounded?
Our teachers, parents and bosses have taught us that being normal, balanced and well-rounded are the keys to success. Because of this, we pass these same lessons along to our children. We want them to succeed, so we continue to promote this time-tested formula.
But what if they are wrong? What if happiness and success actually come from being unique, unbalanced and unusual? How would that change the way we act as fathers? How would that change the way we raise our children?
Maybe our kids don't have to get good grades in all their subjects. Maybe it's possible to do poorly in biology, but still do well in life. Maybe learning cursive isn't that important.
Maybe our kids don't need to be above-average physically, socially, academically and athletically. Maybe they don't need to go to college or get a job. Maybe they don't need to get along with their classmates.
Maybe everything we've been taught to do as fathers is wrong.
I think we need to teach our kids to be weak, instead of strong. We need to help them embrace and amplify their weaknesses, instead of fixing them. We need to help them lean, instead of getting them to straighten up. We need to help them freak out, instead of fitting in.
When I was young, I couldn't sit still, be quiet or do what I was told. My teachers and parents told me that I was obnoxious, irresponsible, immature, undisciplined and rebellious. They said that if I didn't change, I'd end up homeless and living in a van down by the river.
I took their advice and I tried to change. I tried to be who they wanted me to be. I tried to be quiet. I tried to settle down. I tried to let them be in charge. But it couldn't do it, and, even when I tried, it didn't lead to success.
And then I had a revelation. I was motivated and had a lot of initiative. I didn't need other people to tell me what to do. I was good at running my own life. Now I'm an entrepreneur. I'm my own boss.
I was good at talking and being active. People listened to what I had to say. I was entertaining. My energy and enthusiasm were contagious. Now I'm a speaker and professor. I stand up and talk for a living.
In other words, my apparent weaknesses were actually clues to my biggest strengths. I succeeded, not by fixing them, but by amplifying them. I succeeded because of my weaknesses, not in spite of them.
And I'm not the only one. The same thing is true for disorganized scientists, endurance addicts, dyslexic billionaires and autistic software testers.
This revelation, which I call The Freak Factor, has changed the way that I raise my three daughters and I want to share what I've learned with other fathers.
If you're looking for an unconventional way to become an extraordinary father, get your copy of The Freak Factor today.