How to Pick Educational Programs for 9 and 13 Year Olds: A Mom’s Real Trial and Error
The coffee mug ring on my kitchen table has been there so long I don’t bother wiping it anymore. Last Saturday, I was folding clean laundry and scrolling through program sign-ups, Lila, my 9-year-old, was perched on the edge of the table swinging her legs, crumbs from her honey granola bar falling into the pile of socks. Jax, my 13-year-old, leaned against the fridge scrolling TikTok, half paying attention until Lila pointed at the screen.
“That one! The pixel art coding camp! All my friends are signing up,” she said, jabbing my laptop with a sticky finger.
Jax snickered. “That’s for little kids. You’re gonna hate it. You should do the robotics workshop I want, the advanced one. Wait, no, that’s only for people 12 and up anyway.”
I sighed, because I’d been here before. A year ago, I’d signed Jax up for the week-long outdoor science camp Lila had loved two years prior, when she was 7. It had great reviews, it was half off for second kids, I thought it’d be a fun weekend for him. He came home the first day complaining that all the activities were for babies—they did leaf rubbings, for god’s sake—and refused to go back on day three. I was out $270 and had a grumpy teenager on my hands for a week. A few months later, I signed Lila up for the tween book club Jax had loved at 12, thinking it’d get her reading more chapter books. She sat in the back the whole first meeting coloring in her notebook, and told me on the drive home that all the talking about themes was boring. That was another $25 down the drain.
I started to realize that what works for a 9-year-old almost never works for a 13-year-old, even if they’re from the same family, even if the website says it’s for “kids 8-14.” The gap between those two ages is way bigger than most program marketing makes it out to be. After a lot of asking other moms and scrolling through local parent groups, I tried a different approach this year, starting with actually asking each of them what they wanted, not what I thought would look good on a transcript or build a “good habit.”
For Lila, that meant saying yes to the pixel art coding program she wanted, even though I was worried it was just more screen time. It’s a 90-minute weekly class at the local rec center, most of the kids are 8-10, and the whole point is making stuff that matters to her, not passing a test or building a perfect project. Last week she came home with a sticker sheet of pixel art cats she designed herself, and spent two hours after dinner coding a little game where you chase a frog around a garden. It’s glitchy, half the levels don’t work, but she’s proud of it.
What I’ve learned about 9-year-olds is that they still learn best when the fun comes first. They need to see a quick payoff for their work—something they can hold, or show off, or play with—instead of working toward some big goal months down the line. When you’re looking for a program for a 9-year-old, skip the ones that say they’re “preparing for middle school” or “building advanced skills.” Look for something that ties into whatever they’re already obsessed with. If they love drawing, add a little coding or pottery to it. If they love digging up worms, sign them up for a local nature club. That’s way more likely to stick than something you pick because it looks impressive. I also always check that the class size is small enough that the instructor can help when they get stuck, but won’t force them to keep up with a faster group. Nine-year-olds move at their own pace, and that’s okay.
For Jax, the big win wasn’t the fancy $400 advanced robotics workshop he first wanted. That one was three hours every Saturday, right after his soccer game, and it would have meant he never got to hang out with his friends after practice, which is the thing he looks forward to most every week. Instead, we found a teen robotics meetup through the public library. It’s run by a 17-year-old who’s on the high school robotics team, it’s two hours on a Tuesday night, all the kids are 12-15, and it costs $30 for the whole semester. The best part? There’s no set curriculum. They get parts and a general goal, and they work it out themselves.
Jax complains about almost every school activity, but he comes home from this every week talking about the problem he solved that day, or how his group messed up the wiring and had to start over. Thirteen-year-olds care about two things more than anything else: not being around kids way younger than them, and having some control over what they’re doing. They hate being told exactly what to do every step of the way, and they will check out immediately if they feel like the program is babyish. Before you sign your 13-year-old up for anything, ask the coordinator what the actual age range of participants usually is. A lot of programs that say 10-16 end up being mostly 10-12 year olds, which is a death sentence for a 13-year-old who just wants to fit in. Also, always let them drop one program if it’s not working, no guilt. I’d rather waste $30 than $400, and Jax knows if he hates this he can quit and pick something else.
A few things I do every time now, that take five minutes and save me a lot of hassle: First, I never sign up for a full session without a free trial. Most programs offer one, and if they don’t, I skip it. Second, I ask the instructor what a typical class looks like. For 9-year-olds, I want to hear that kids get to mess around and make mistakes, not that they have to finish a project by the end of class. For 13-year-olds, I want to hear that they get to make their own choices about what they build or write or study, not just follow a lesson plan. Third, I don’t rule out cheap options just because they’re not fancy. The library meetup is way better for Jax than the fancy workshop would have been, anyway.
Last night, Jax brought home the little robotic clapping cat he built, and Lila asked if she could help him add pixel art decals to it. He said okay, even when she messed up the first one. I still don’t know if either of these programs will turn into something they stick with long term. Lila might decide coding is boring next month, and Jax might decide he’d rather spend Tuesday nights hanging out with his friends. I’ll probably waste money on another dud program down the line. But right now, both of them come home excited to talk about what they did that day, instead of slamming the door and saying it was stupid. That’s enough for me.
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