Children need warmth, not the cruelty of 'hothousing'

How galling it would be to be a head teacher and receive a dozen calls or emails every day from hovering parents, hysterical because Lily hasn't got the hang of chemistry or Milo is not on course for Oxbridge. I sympathise, therefore, with the headmaster at Uppingham, who warns parents that "hothousing" their children risks damaging them for life.

Richard Harman, who will lead the Headmasters' and Headmistresses' Conference next year, claims that today's parents monitor their offspring so relentlessly that the poor things can hardly think for themselves. Mr Harman would like mummy and daddy to stop pestering their young about results and refrain from programming their every waking hour in order to improve their performance. Others agree: adopt an attitude of benign neglect towards them and children will grow more resilient.

I've met enough "hothousing" parents to recognise that this extreme form of nurturing can snuff out independence. Parent-teacher meetings always bring out the worst offenders, such as the mother I met who completed every one of her son's sentences for him, admitting that she had "counselled" him on which subjects to study, and which university to apply to. The boy, silent and sullen, oozed resentment from every pore. He could barely restrain his hostility towards everyone around him, and when he said "Mother", frankly I thought of Psycho and wondered if he'd end up running a motel where unsuspecting blondes showered at their peril.

"Hothousing" parents risk damaging their young. But concern about their exaggerated monitoring should not blind us to the need for a different kind of nurturing. Being watched, praised, restrained - even if the goal is passing an exam - gives children a sense of worth. From that safe, pleasant perch, they can stretch out a hand to others. We complain about nurses, teachers and social workers lacking compassion and patience. But where are the "caring" professionals to learn such nurturing instincts, if not from their own parents?

If my father had not always insisted on picking me up (no matter what the time) from parties when I was a teenager, I would have survived. I'd have learnt to listen for footsteps on the cobblestones in Georgetown, Washington DC, and possibly to carry a whistle, as the policeman who'd taken the assembly at school advised. But I loved being looked after and knowing that, no matter how wild the disco or the teenage party, my dad waited outside in his car. More importantly, my parents showed me how to care for my own brood now - and beyond them, for the friends and in-laws who constitute my circle of intimates.

Clever Mr Harman knows that his parenting advice will appeal immensely to the ambitious mummies and daddies who can afford to send their children to schools like his (for pounds 30,000 a year). Many yearn to get on with their own careers, pilates classes and shellac manicures, and will welcome anyone who sanctions a more hands-off approach.

Let the teenager off the leash, some say, because this is how she will learn to cope with everything from alcohol through anorexia to algebra. And if it just so happens that by letting her do her own stuff, her parents gain lots of lovely time to think of themselves - well, all the better.

I'm sure that this other extreme might spawn an autonomous and capable generation. Latch-key children have a more developed sense of self-preservation than children whose parents hover. They have to be on constant guard, aware of smoke in the kitchen, or someone trying the lock on the back door: they're on their own. This no doubt emancipates them from reliance on others; like scores of orphans in literature, from Jane Eyre to Harry Potter, children with no parents, or absent ones, grow up stronger and more enterprising than their cosseted counterparts with parents. But at what emotional cost?