Author and workplace expert Tamara Erickson — someone many of you longtime Gig readers will remember from posts such as “Job-hopping Gen Yers aren’t disloyal. They’re smart,” and “Money v. meaningful work, the battle continues” — has a new book out, and since she’s been such a source of good advice, we thought we’d give you a sneak peek. 

Plugged In: The Generation Y Guide to Thriving at Work focuses on Yers’ advantages — our fresh perspective, motivation, and willingness to take risks — and offers some guidance to help Yers fully connect to their colleagues and engage in the changing work world. In the following excerpt, Tammy introduces the “career curve” framework, one she says can help Yers identify the best job and career path to meet their work and life needs. 

What shape will your career take? The line of your career is not an even progression. The amount of time, the intensity of your involvement with the work, the pulls of family, and many other concerns all influence the shape at any given moment of that path — what I call the career curve.

The career curve framework guides you in thinking about the practical reality of what will work for you. How much money do you consider enough (or need so that you can pay off the debt that you are carrying from school loans)? How much time would you like to devote to work? What role would you like it to play in the mosaic of your life’s other activities?

Older adults have tended to think about one career curve. It used to be that the progression of a career meant a steady rise at one workplace through the years, and then a sharp and abrupt end — rather like falling off a cliff — when workers retired. That pattern is being replaced, by and large, by more of a bell curve: entry-level, full involvement and advancement, and then a winding down or deceleration phase as workers transition out of work. Gen Y’s, however, should be thinking of multiple curves. Quite likely, you will have ups, downs, and do-overs. For you, the career curve framework might better be called career carillon, because the line of your career is likely to resemble a series of bell curves.

As you think about different options for your career curve(s), consider these issues:

• Time: What other priorities do you have for your life? How much time would you like to devote to work? On the surface, this question is probably the most straightforward of all the considerations, although it’s also one of the most dependent on other choices you make. To a large extent, the amount of time you choose to devote to various activities, including work, will end up depending on how much you enjoy each one relative to the others. Nonetheless, it’s important to consider that, realistically, some careers are far more time-consuming than others.

• Rhythm: Lots of people say they’d like more flexibility in their work arrangements, but what would that really mean for you? How much spontaneity or predictability do you need to accomplish the other priorities in your life? Do you anticipate having other activities that are highly regular (for example, training for an athletic event that could be conducted at the same time every day), or are your other priorities more likely to be spontaneous (for example, going on an impromptu trip)? Would working four long days every week — the same four days — be more appealing to you, or would you rather work in episodic bursts? Various career choices allow very different rhythms.

• Economic reality: Get out your pencil or spreadsheet. It’s time to set some approximate financial goals. How much money do you need at this stage of your life? What standard of living will be comfortable for you? This is not a book about financial planning — there are plenty of those — but I encourage you to do some now. Be sure to take into account not only living expenses but also money required to pay off any student loans and to save for dreams you may have for the future. Consider the amount of help that you can realistically expect from your parents and family. Having a rough sense of your economic requirements will shape the choices that make sense.

• Challenge: Consider the extent to which you do want (or don’t want) to take on difficult or challenging roles at this point, including the level of commitment you would be willing to make to learn new skill and capabilities. How new and how difficult do you want your future work to be?

• Responsibility: Responsibility is a measure of the interdependence of your work with that of others. How willing are you to take on roles, including managerial tasks, that directly affect others? Are you comfortable having others depend on you? Are you willing to have people look to you for leadership or direction?

These questions help you shape the tangible reality of the work you prefer. Time and money may not be all that counts, but they are an important reality to factor in as you search for your passion.

Reprinted by permission of Harvard Business Press.  Adapted from Plugged In: The Generation Y Guide to Thriving at Work by Tamara Erickson.  Copyright 2008 Tamara J. Erickson.  All rights reserved. 

What a day, right? I’m on my way to vote and, frankly, I look a little crazy because I’m so excited that I hardly slept a wink. And it isn’t difficult to see why. So much of the Gen Y discussion we’ve had over the last year or two has been about our entitlement, our coddled youth, our lack of accountability, perspective, and work ethic. Our generation, I’ve been told so many times, hasn’t really been through anything. (Sure, there was 9/11, but could that one day compare to  prolonged coming-of-age crises like Vietnam or the Great Depression?)

Well, I think it’s about time we put that argument to rest. Maybe two wars and $4-a-gallon gas this summer weren’t enough to get us the generational street cred, but surely the last few months have finally elevated us to that highest echelon of suffering. As Thomas Friedman put it in his column on Monday, “Never has one generation [i.e., them] spent so much of its children’s [i.e., us] wealth in such a short period of time with so little to show for it as in the Bush years.” Thanks, Mom and Dad.

And for the record, it’s only just beginning. Whatever entitlement we have exhibited will, I think, be quickly quashed by the rapidly approaching obligations of our future. Not only will it cost far more (and be much more necessary, given the competitive landscape) to put our kids through college and beyond, we will also be caring for parents who are living longer and saving less, often because of the circumstances they’ve faced, like layoffs, rising healthcare costs, and of course, the high price of raising us.

All that to say, please, for the love of goodness, go vote. Whatever the immediate stakes for our country, the long-term significance of this day for us simply can’t be overstated. When sociologists look back at the formative moments of our lifetime, will 2008 be the year whose financial crisis began all our troubles, or the one whose election set the tone for our country’s recovery? Every election, there’s big talk of the youth vote, and just about every election, it amounts to a big pile of hype. (Howard Dean, anyone?) So this year, think of it as a life vote. Whatever your views, whomever you support, you actually do have a chance to shape the rest of our collective life today. Take it. Or don’t — and your friends (and I!) will hold you personally responsible for every calamity that befalls us forever more.

I saw snow for the first time this season last week. I was on a train from Philadelphia back to New York and — after spending the night listening to Phillies fans in the streets and waking up at 6 a.m. to spend the stormy morning on a Gen Y panel – I was exhausted. But when I looked up from my book (Neil Gaiman’s Neverwhere) to the snow swirling against the rust and mustard of autumn trees and a winter-gray sky, it gave me a little rush of joy.

While it certainly meant the onset of winter and, as we say in my family, a *suckster* commute, it mostly reminded me of being a kid. Those of you from comparable climes will know what I’m talking about: waking up to white everywhere, waiting with bated breath for the local radio or TV guys to confirm school was canceled, and clambering into your snow-day finest to go act a (frozen) fool outside with your friends.

But as lovely as that memory was, it also made me think of a conversation I’d had with one of the panel attendees that morning. A thirtysomething father of three living in the Philly area, he came up after the talk to ask what I thought the youngest Yers would be like as they grew up. But before I could get a word in, he started talking about his own kids. I’m going to kick them off the games and the phone and send them outside, he said. “None of that.”

And then he told me about his three-year-old, who had been wreaking barefoot havoc on his tricycle on the curb recently, and attracted a neighbor’s concerned attention. “He comes running across the street,” the Xer dad told me, laughing, “meanwhile his 12-year-old is wearing a helmet on his Razor scooter in the driveway. He said we just have different parenting styles.” And while coddling parents worried this Xer, something else really stressed him out: A friend complained recently that his 16-year-old had sent 11,000 text messages in one month – “My wife and I calculated,” he practically yelled, “that’s 366 a day!”

When people ask me what I think will be Yers’ challenges moving forward, I often cite technology. And not because of the technology itself, but because of all it enables. Parents now have to work to get their kids out of the house, instead of working to get them in, the way our moms used to at dinnertime. And as much as tools like texting and Facebook have made it possible for us to maintain more “friendships” than ever, I’d argue that those same technologies have made it more difficult to cultivate the few close relationships that shape every person over a lifetime. There’s something about actually being together, talking all night, and even getting in fights that can’t be replicated on a laptop or iPhone — and that’s essential to being a person, never mind a success.

After all, how can you lead or manage if you’ve never learned to really, substantively, fundamentally connect to other people, in the truest sense of the word? And let’s be honest, you can’t do much of that and send 366 texts a day. (Which, incidentally, speaks to something else I’ve been getting angst-mail about lately: Mom and Dad, take your grown kids off your cellphone plan! Sheesh.)

It’s nothing that’ll be solved in a day, and maybe some of it is nostalgia for a simpler, less wired past. (Hah.) But I’m already hearing some working Yers say that they’ve started carving out downtime from all the pinging and buzzing in an effort to stay sane and centered. As it stands, we’re at that moment when — with so many new and exciting tools and not much sense of what their long-term effect will be — we’re more or less letting it all run wild. But that can hardly go on forever, and I can’t imagine it’ll be too long before we reach an equilibrium where we can exploit the great aspects of these tools without falling victim to the more problematic ones.

That occurred to me, too, on that train: Sitting in the “quiet car” on the Acela — where the woman next to me actively shushed other people on the train, pointing imperiously to the “Quiet Car” sign above — I was struck by how annoying the endless click-clacking of BlackBerrys and laptops became, and how much I missed the low hum of, you know, people that used to make travel fun and interesting for me. But perhaps most disturbing was that I succumbed to it myself, curled up in my book like some sort of sad sleeping snail passing time till more favorable conditions emerged. And that’s why it was so nice to look up, surprised, and be reminded that there’s a world out there, and I used to - and should - enjoy it.

It was a strange day on 50th St. yesterday. And for more prosaic reasons than you might think. For the last four years, my walk to the office from our subway stop has gone more or less like this: I stop at the crosswalk in front of the Lehman Brothers building. I marvel at the incredible weirdness of the giant screens on its exterior playing video of a Lehman logo floating across nature scenes. I cross, look up, and laugh about the line of young men’s backs in that oh-so-familiar pale Wall Street blue leaning on a window ledge a few floors up in some regular morning meeting. And I arrive at the doors of the old Time & Life building, happy on my funky writer’s proverbial high horse.

But yesterday, when I got to our block, the Lehman building’s screens all said Barclays. The mountains and sky tape had been replaced by a static cerulean background. And who would’ve guessed — I felt a little pang of sadness. The woman in front of me on the sidewalk stopped to take a picture of the new look, and I couldn’t help but notice that, against all sense and precedent, I was nostalgic for Lehman and that lame loop.

Whatever you think of what’s happened over the last 10 days or so, it sure has been a reality check. And while everyone’s been affected, I think we Yers have gotten it even more from all sides. There is, of course, the crisis itself, which underscores so much of the discussion we’ve had on The Gig concerning Yers’ skittishness about corporate America. (Remember “Job-hopping Gen Yers aren’t disloyal. They’re smart”? But well before things got into $700 billion bailout territory, the broader distrustful youth story was already shaping up, and each day seemed to bring an event more shocking than the last. First, there was the obvious hook — the 9/11 anniversary — something that’s been so formative for our cohort and whose impact doesn’t seem to have dimmed much. I’d scarcely started planning that post before news hit of David Foster Wallace’ssuicide, and while he clearly wasn’t a Yer, the voice of Xer disaffection was well loved by many of my friends, and his death seemed to make us all take a step back and reevaluate in a way that other losses haven’t.

All of which might have been worth discussing, until 10 seconds later, when the headlines about Lehman and Merrill Lynch got hysterical. By the time I headed out last Monday morning for a quick business trip to Southern California, I was cringing in fear every time I turned on the TV or got on the Web. And just in case the big picture was too far removed, there were all sorts of more personal reminders, like the cab driver on the way to JFK who told me about a young man he’d dropped off early that Monday — the kid had just gotten married on Sunday, was heading to Greece for his honeymoon Monday afternoon, and on the morning he should’ve been basking in the newlywed glow, he was heading to Lehman to pack up his office and trying not to think about what he’d be coming home to in a few weeks.

Who could blame us for being afraid? And let’s be honest, given recent events, obviously our wariness isn’t exactly unjustified. It used to be that going to a company like Lehman was the “stable” path, and just look where those folks are now. (Not to mention where they will be; as career management consultant Paul Bernard told CNNMoney, “Only 20% to 25% of Lehman employees will eventually land Wall Street jobs. There are just not that many jobs.”)

And while the big bailout may save the hour, all the current flailing just keeps reminding me of something many of you have heard over and over already — that we will be the first generation in recent American history to be economically worse off than our parents. Perhaps, in the past, I understood this intellectually, but it’s a reality now — and one so stark it sort of explains Yers’ collective neurosis. Whatever the course correction, however successful, it seems we — and that means everyone, but especially Yers — are in for it.

Because, in case you didn’t know already, we’re in all kinds of debt, our parents have no real savings, and by the time we have kids, well, a decent kindergarten could cost as much as college did for us — all points that led my friend and editor to write in an e-mail, “Boy, are you guys wimps!” Easy for him to say; he’s the boss, and old enough to tell stories about walking uphill both ways to school barefoot in the snow. So while, to him, I know even talking about the situation in which we find ourselves sounds like whining, I think that’s mostly because it’s such a debacle that any discussion would sound a bit whiny. And hey, when you consider what the previous generation’s mistakes could cost us in the long run, I think we’re entitled to some complaining.

There is an upside, though, and it too fits into the Yer philosophy — but on the optimistic, rebellious, save-the-world side. Roger Cohen touched on it last week in his New York Times column, “The King Is Dead”. ”When I taught a journalism course at Princeton a couple of years ago,” he writes, “I was captivated by the bright, curious minds in my class. But when I asked students what they wanted to do, the overwhelming answer was: ‘Oh, I guess I’ll end up in i-banking.’ It was not that they loved investment banking…it was the money and the fact everyone else was doing it.” Not so much anymore. And while I am going to miss the morning love affair Lehman and I had, if a small shift in the narrow thinking Cohen criticizes is what comes out of all this for us, I think I can live with that. Now we just have to start saving for (our parents’!) retirement.

Today, a question from one of you. Gig reader Kurt writes:

“I’ve been thinking about switching jobs and finding something that will provide better benefits and salary for me and my new wife. But I was typing up a new resume and realized that — at 28 — I have five jobs that are one year apiece. How can I spin that in an interview as a positive? Can I just tell the truth and say that I’m not finding what I need, or do you think that might be a kiss of death?”

Well, Kurt, you’re definitely not alone. And while the job hunt is always stressful — no matter who you are and how great your resume might be — don’t let this particular issue keep you up at night. Because if the recruiters I talk to are any indication, your job-hopping isn’t as unusual as you might think. With more and more of us waiting to settle down and choosing “non-traditional” career paths — such as hostel-hopping through Europe or heading back to Mom and Dad’s while we write the great American novel — we’re less and less likely to stay in a bad job just because we need the money or don’t have other options.

Which is why you’ll hear some HR people say that they can’t get young employees to stay. But that’s actually a good thing for you. Because as more qualified, professional candidates come in with resumes that look like yours, those doing the hiring have been forced to focus less on job tenure and more on real skills and relevant experience.

But what does this actually mean? As discussed in a recent post, “Job-hopping Gen Yers aren’t disloyal, they’re smart,” many twentysomethings are simply opting for opportunities over loyalty. That was certainly the case for me: I came to Fortune at the age of 24, and it was already my fourth job out of school. Did that mean that I was a giant flake without any sense of purpose or commitment? Not really. Instead, it played as evidence of my risk-taking nature and willingness to follow the best gigs, managers, and experiences (or so my bosses tell me). And, ultimately, that made me a more attractive hire for companies that were looking for a person with a specific skillset and perspective, rather than someone they could develop all the way to retirement.

To be fair, I should point out that, while HR folks often say that we’re harder to keep than ever, the numbers don’t necessarily bear out our fickleness: In 2006, the median tenure for workers ages 25 to 34 was 2.9 years, according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics. And more than 20 years ago, in 1983, it was…3 years. Not exactly a dramatic drop. (And the same is generally true of younger workers: For those ages 20 to 24, the median tenure was 1.3 years in 2006, and 1.5 years in 1983.)

While there are economic fluctuations from decade to decade that caused some peaks and valleys, it’s possible that this relatively constant tenure number doesn’t yet capture the changing attitudes of young professionals. And one BLS survey found that the youngest Boomers — those born between 1957 and 1964 — held an average of 10.2 jobs between the ages of 18 and 38, a number that will probably just keep going up. Regardless, the fact is that recruiters definitely think we’re more fickle — and they’re starting to forgive us for it.

Of course, that doesn’t mean we should bounce around just for fun. After all, the postscript to my four-jobs-by-24 story is that I’ve now been at Fortune almost four years. And as Gig reader Dan pointed out in his response to the job-hopping post, “those who stay with the same employer for longer tend to get good at what they do,” among other things.

Of course, there are perfectly good reasons to move on, especially if you find yourself an expert at stapling and copying, but not much else. So, Kurt, if you can demonstrate some logic to your career moves, you’ll be in good shape. And in your case, with a new spouse — and the new priorities that (I hope!) come with that — you’re often even more desirable than you would be otherwise because recruiters know that you’re looking for stability.

So when you head into that next big interview, think about how you can show you’re a high performer who’s both learned and contributed in each job — and it won’t matter much whether you stay for one year or 10. (Though it’s probably a good idea to try to stay at least a year, as it’s kind of hard to argue you made a real mark in a job you had for six months.) I’m all for being honest about your struggles to find the right fit, but be sure to make the interview about how you made the best of each role, not how bad they all were. And since you’ll want to reassure the new company that you won’t be headed out the door fast, come with some examples of what makes their organization such a good one for you.

Think of the interview as a chance to tell your story. For so many of us Yers, that’s what work is — an enormous, seamlessly-integrated part of our personal stories that’s even more central because we often don’t have the things that take precedence over work in older people’s lives, like families. So figure out how to frame your career story in terms of trajectory and lessons and goals, and don’t get hung up on the numbers.

If you believe it, they just might, too.

What about you guys? Are your resumes similar to Kurt’s, or are you through with job-hopping?

I’m on the road this week in *freezing* San Francisco and there isn’t much time for sleep, let alone thought, but I had to share this piece of brilliance – the Onion News Network’s “Study finds young people remain apathetic about office politics.” (And here I thought we’d explored all the substantive issues with “Politics in the office: Worse than office politics.”) Hilarious examples of this youth apathy? Our lack of concern for such pressing issues as the rules of the color copier, who we used to date, and parking spaces. Of course, the really interesting part of the spoof is the parody of the over-40 crowd: “Just 32% of employed men and women under the age of 25 said they were concerned about the size of coworkers’ expense accounts and who makes a new pot of coffee if they finish it, as opposed to 74% of employees over 40.” Fair to grown-ups? Not really. But an accurate representation of how those of us on the other end sometimes feel? Completely. As the piece’s Yer puts it, “I feel like the entire office political system is just corrupt, so why should I care?”

Just a little Gen Y (and really, parenting) insight from an unexpected source, The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay:

“The Doctors Kavalier maintained exacting professional schedules and, like many busy parents, were inclined at once to neglect and indulge their children.”

It’s always heartening to come across someone else saying exactly what you’re usually trying to say, with far fewer words and so much more beauty — and in a novel! Yet more proof that I should’ve been a fiction writer. But nice to know there’s no escaping this Gen Y discussion, even in the middle of the night reading before bed, so I just wanted to share. Thanks to that cultural attaché of literature, little sister Lizurd, for slipping this one into my Comic-Con reading queue, and have a great weekend!

Ask any of my friends and they’ll tell you, I’ve always been a nerd. As a child, I read classical myths before bedtime, played viola in the orchestra, and watched more G.I. Joe than could rightly be considered healthy. (Well, that last bit might have been more abnormal than nerdy, but you get the idea.)

And yet–contrary to the tales of social maladjustment and woe that those parents of nigh-seven-year-old kindergartners in our last post might fear–I never once felt bad about it. In fact, it never really entered into my thinking at all. Every one of my friends had a quirk or two, and not because we were some kind of B-movie-esque nerd herd, ostracized from the rest of acceptable classroom society. From the jocks, to the brains, to–yes–the “musicians,” we were for the most part nerdy and cool. And in some cases, even cool because we were nerdy.

Walking to the San Diego Convention Center for Comic-Con 2008 this past weekend, I was reminded of this educational idyll as a departing teenage Con patron explained just that to his apparently confused mom over the phone: “It’s nerdy and cool, you know?” Which was about when the first Batman strolled past me in the crowd, recalling another mob scene of recent memory: The mile-long line I waited in to see a 12:01 a.m. opening night show of Dark Knight a few weeks ago. That, too might have been considered Loserville not long ago, but judging from the box office results for those midnight showings alone (never mind all the pretty girls in line…), the times they are a-changing.

And there’s evidence of it everywhere. Dark Knight’s record-annihilating popularity, clearly. The 150,000 capacity crowd at this year’s Con, which flooded the floor from the usually chill preview night on Wednesday straight through the convention’s close on Sunday. And among the horde, not just obsessed fans, respectable-looking families and giddy comics professionals, but the likes of–no, really–Sam Jackson, Ludacris and Eva Mendes, eager to score a Con boost for upcoming projects.

Then there’s the current Entertainment Weekly cover on Comic-Con and 2009’s Watchmen, based on the celebrated Alan Moore graphic novel of the same name. Fans were treated to special teaser footage at the convention, which EW last year called “one of the most critical industry events on the calendar, as important to Hollywood as any festival in France or Utah.”

Is this mainstreaming of costumed culture a little strange? No doubt. But it’s a better, smarter and all around more exciting world when that’s not only allowed, but appreciated, in all its nerdy and cool glory. And while comics are hardly new, and their entertainment industry ascendancy dates back decades, I especially love the way that they’ve again become true cultural capital for us Yers, minus many of the labels that often came with even casual fandom in the past. We’ve grown up in–and helped grow–what was in recent years a quirky subculture into something we can all support, share, and enjoy without judgment or separation, whether we’re into the whole skin-tight-superhero-outfit-and-plastic-weapon thing or not. (A tad “Kumbaya”? Totally. But I’m feeling warm and fuzzy and drunk with jet lag, and I’m not sorry.)

It’s a cultural shift that a friend first articulated to me after reading David Brooks’ New York Times column, “The Alpha Geeks,” earlier this year. (Thank you, Paul!) Brooks makes a distinction between nerds and “geeks” that I may or may not agree with, but his basic premise–of geek primacy, with the likes of Bill Gates, Tina Fey and even Barack Obama as examples–is hardly debatable.

The challenge, of course, is how to keep all this authentic–something that’s even more important to many Yers than action movies or acceptance. Because there’s a point at which, with more studio executives than comic-book publishers in attendance, events like Comic-Con start to feel like still more icky, obvious marketing. And it’s only a hop, skip and a jump from there to an industry that’s (once again) boring and broke. But it’s a while yet to that. And I for one have the utmost faith in Hollywood.

Right!

But while it’s still charming–and believe me, there’s something about standing in that press of people, surrounded by art and artists and every creature in between, that just makes you giggle–thought you might like a taste…

Icons of my youth. If you don't know, find out.

A Planet of the Apes salute, at the request of Little Spidey and dad.

A very tall, very coordinated (and kind of trippy) Plastic Man.

O brave new world: A perfectly nice normal person, a perfectly nice not-so-normal person, a perfectly *awesome* Lego "person," and the happiest costumed kids ever.

My kind of crowd: Hellboy, Greedy Smurf, Little Bo Peep (we think), and a ton of fans. Best ever.

When I saw a headline about this study, “The Lengthening of Childhood,” on the front page of the New York Suna few days ago, my Gen Y antennae immediately went up. As we’ve discussed here before, some researchers argue that one of the main reasons we Yers are who we are is our own (Boomer parent-enabled) elongated adolescence. But instead of the more general argument about young people’s dependence on their parents, this National Bureau of Economic Research working paper focused specifically on kindergartners and the potentially negative effects of “red-shirting” — essentially, the increasingly popular practice of starting those with fall and winter birthdays a year later so that they’ll be at the older end of their class, instead of among the youngest. And since some of us are young enough to have been affected by this trend, and others may soon have children of their own and be facing this decision themselves, it seemed worth discussing — especially because of the interesting role our parents play.

Red-shirting isn’t new, and it’s been on the rise. Supported by past research as a means to better-performing and more well-adjusted students, the strategy started to catch on with parents, and many school districts began to move their kindergarten eligibility cutoff dates up as well, so that those kids with birthdays later in the year would become the elder statesmen of their primary schools, instead of the runts, for lack of a better word.

But according to the paper (written by Harvard researchers): “There is little evidence that being older than your classmates has any long-term, positive effect on adult outcomes such as IQ, earnings, or educational attainment. By contrast, there is substantial evidence that entering school later reduces educational attainment (by increasing high-school dropout rates) and depresses lifetime earnings (by delaying entry into the labor market).”

Of course, there are all sorts of circumstances here, and some children may very well need the extra time, but the most striking part of all this to me wasn’t whether or not red-shirting ought to be standard operating procedure, but the apparently significant influence of, as the Sun politely calls them, “ambitious parents.”

“Upper-income, white, highly-educated parents red-shirt their children at the highest rate,” the paper says. And later: “Parents believe that older children out-compete their younger peers in the classroom, on the athletic field, and in college admissions. Thus, eager to give their children an edge, parents are willing to hold back their child one year in order to shift them up the pecking order.”

Hello, helicopter parenting! While the researchers are careful not to blame parents, it’s clear that in some cases, these admittedly well-intentioned moms and dads end up serving their egos far more than their children’s actual interests. And while in the short term, they’re doing it to have a happy child and be happy themselves — as George Davison, headmaster of Grace Church School in Manhattan’s Greenwich Village, puts it in the Sun, “People in the world who feel good about themselves are more effective adults, and more effective adults have higher income.” — even all those good feelings could be to their detriment. Because while experts agree that kindergarten’s harder than it’s traditionally been, and more is expected of the kids than ever, that isn’t an excuse to gloss over the other crucial lessons that childhood is supposed to teach.

Learning, earning, growth, development — those are better rewards than empty praise. A child who’s always protected from making mistakes and experiencing failure is going to be at a major disadvantage in the “real” world. Because let’s be honest, that’s what build character and keeps us from being the coddled adults everyone says we are. And without it, you have the kind of young person who’s just sure he’s the answer to whatever the question is — you know, the one all those managers and older people are always complaining about in our comments? It’s an attitude that, frankly, often also leads to less true achievement, not more; it’s hard to strive when you haven’t ever really had to, or to fight to earn something that you believe you already deserve.

Please don’t mistake this for some kind of anti-Gen Y rant. If anything, it’s in defense of Yers: It frustrates me when we take the rap for the consequences of decisions out of our control — i.e. when we’re vilified for simply being the people our parents raised us to be. (Which isn’t to excuse bad behavior, but rather to recognize what one might call “shared culpability.”)

And I am definitely not saying that there aren’t many situations where red-shirting is right and appropriate, depending on the individual child. But it seems to me there are also many situations where our moms and dads just need to suck it up and send us off into the big, bad world. If the six-year-olds I know are any indication, it’s the parents who are afraid, not the kids. (Seriously. Have you listened to a nursery rhyme lately? Anyone who can listen to “Rock-a-bye Baby” and still go to sleep has got to be pretty brave.) So the sooner Mom and Dad face those fears, I think, the better off they’ll be.

Now, what do you think? I’m out on a bit of a limb here, I know, but are you out here with me? Or are you all for starting school when the spirit moves you? Anyone have personal experience in this area? (For the record, only one of my sibs has an early birthday, putting him on the older end of his class. He was also by far the coolest of all of us at school. But I think that had more to do with his love of cars and clothes than any temporal advantage. Or maybe that was the temporal advantage. Who knows? But regardless, the rest of us seemed to have turned out all right…)

Just a quick update from one of our Gig authors: It’s a new online comic strip, corporatetoolz, from Jake Greene, the author of Whoa, My Boss is Naked: A Career Book for People Who Would Never Be Caught Dead Reading a Career Book. (You may remember him from our “Could ‘Rock of Love’ boost your career?” post.)

My personal fave?

Of course, as soon as I saw this, I thought of about 15 more I’d do (if only I had a shred of artistic talent!), but I bet you guys have even better ones than I do. Care to share?