The familiar weekend buzz of the café surrounded me. Normally, these weekend meetups were my chance to unwind with friends , sharing stories about our week, venting about minor frustrations, or simply exchanging bits of harmless gossip. A small but cherished ritual that helped me reset before Monday arrived.
But today was different.
Instead of my usual crowd, I found myself sitting across from two high school students and their mothers. They'd gotten my contact through my mom's friend and wanted to hear about my experience applying to colleges abroad. As we talked, I found myself unexpectedly reliving my own journey, remembering the uncertainty, the pressure, the dreams I carried at that age.
Most of the conversation was led by the moms. The kids sat beside them, quiet, mostly listening. "We've heard so much about your success," one mother said, her smile bright while her son stared down at his untouched drink. "What kind of extracurriculars do they really care about?" one mom asked, pen ready. "Is GPA or SAT more important?" another chimed in.
The questions came rapid-fire after that. SAT prep strategies, essay topics, summer program recommendations. The teenagers stayed mostly silent, shoulders slightly hunched, occasionally glancing up when directly addressed but quickly returning their gaze to their phones or the café floor.
I could tell they were listening, maybe even curious, but not quite ready to speak up. That used to be me, too.
How many times had I sat just like those kids, listening to my own future being mapped out in conversations that flowed around me but rarely through me? Maybe they trusted their mothers to ask the "right" questions. Or perhaps they were just unsure of what to say, what to ask, if they even needed help at all.
I remember being that age too, wanting to figure everything out on my own. At some point, we all feel like we need to prove ourselves, to our parents, to society, maybe even to ourselves.
That independence is important. It builds confidence. But I've also come to learn that support doesn't have to weaken independence. When given the right way, it strengthens it.
I remember other students whose parents had also shared my contact, but instead of leading the way, those parents stepped back.
One student messaged me directly: "Hi, I'm Linh. I got your contact through my dad. I'm working on my college applications and would love to have a coffee chat with you. I have a few questions and would really appreciate your advice."
We met the following weekend. Linh arrived with a notebook full of questions, already deep into researching schools, deadlines, scholarships. She took notes, asked thoughtful follow-ups, and later sent a thank-you message summarizing what she'd taken from our chat.
There were others like her. Students who scheduled the meetings themselves. Who came prepared. Who followed up. They still message me throughout their whole application process with updates, new doubts, or simply to share good news.
That kind of initiative, they owned it. But I also know it wouldn't have happened without the silent, steady support of their parents behind them. The kind of support that doesn't overshadow, but empowers.
Support and independence don't cancel each other out. The best kind of support makes independence stronger. And true independence doesn't mean going it alone, it means knowing when and how to ask for help.
For parents, I know it's not always easy to find that balance. You want to be involved, but not overbearing. You want to guide, but also give freedom.
Sometimes it's not about asking every question or doing all the planning. Sometimes it's also about saying:
"Hey, I found someone who's been through it. Do you want to reach out?" "I'm here if you need me, but I trust you've got this."
That quiet trust, that space to try and even to fail, is what helps kids grow.
And as I sat there in that café, surrounded by hopeful parents and hesitant teenagers, I felt something I hadn't expected: gratitude. For the support I had. For the moments that shaped me. And for the chance to now pass some of it on.