The success of one generation should change the lives of the next.

This is the fundamental immigrant story. My parents made the decision in their late 30s, dragging along three kids from Hong Kong across the Pacific Ocean to settle in the cold Canadian landscape. They sacrificed their stable careers, metropolitan lifestyles, and proximity to friends and family to start anew; partially for themselves, but mostly for us as 0th/first generation Canadians and eventually Americans. I can tell that they're not acclimated to the culture—now in retirement, they make regular trips back to Asia to make up for lost time.

Of course, I feel no such compulsion. We're raising our family here, and have grown comfortable commenting in equal measure on American football and Hong Kong cinema. I was the first in my family to attend college, and Computer Science served as a natural on-ramp to Silicon Valley. It would seem rather silly for our parents to chastise us for not undergoing their same hardships, given their goal in creating this opportunity.

But to flip that around, parents like us agonize about spoiling the next generation: our kids who don't have to settle for second-hand textbooks and musical instruments, who take flights on vacations instead of 15-hour road trips—and then get to ride to the observation deck instead of gawking at it from below. We feel guilt about them not facing the same challenges as we did, and worry they won't have the same life experiences that would build resilience and grit and humility.

Morgan Housel addresses this sociological issue in a recent post, with its roots in finance and economics. His point mirrors my lived experience, where each generation works hard to provide a leg up for the next. It's ironic that we beat ourselves up precisely for being successful in that endeavor.

And yet, none of us are comfortable with changing times and changing lifestyles, so our instincts are to nurture the character that we are proud of in self-cultivation. Our anxious response has been to overflow their plates: private schools, more extracurriculars, tutors, and summer camps. In our quest to grow our kids into responsible adults and latch onto a tangible accomplishment, we have converged onto a singular validation: college admissions.

Each generation will have its own, distinct set of problems. If we are so lucky, the next generation will build upon what we've provided, and face challenges that would not have been possible for us. Our kids take private music lessons, but in a class where music fluency starts at an early age and many of their classmates have also been practicing for years. They won't feel like they have to rush through college just so they can flash their degree to find a job, but they will have to deal with the uncertainty of what to study, when AI has destabilized so many entry-level positions and threatens a wide swath of occupations. Their path may be less about economic scarcity, and more about identity and purpose; I asked the prescient question a decade ago about what kind of career advice I could give my baby boy, and I'm no closer to an answer.

Not having to ride 15 hours in a minivan with underpowered AC, though; that's just strictly better.