Richard Glover remembers bringing home a maths result of nine out of 10. His mother wanted to know about the one he got wrong.

If you grew up in the 1950s or ’60s, you might recognise that response. Perhaps you heard something similar at your own kitchen table, then found yourself wondering years later why a simple “well done” had been so difficult.

It’s something Glover has been thinking about while researching How to Ruin a Child, his exploration of the advice given to generations of Australian parents. Speaking to Starts at 60, he says reading those old parenting manuals helped explain behaviour that can seem baffling now.

“I hope for people my age, it actually leads you to be a bit more forgiving of your own parents,” he says.

For parents of that era, praise came with a warning. Glover says the handbooks cautioned that making children the centre of attention could turn them into spoiled, demanding adults. A mother holding back a compliment might have believed she was protecting her child’s future.

“They were just following orders,” he says.

That doesn’t mean the lack of encouragement didn’t hurt. As Glover points out, it can be particularly difficult to understand once you have children yourself and discover how naturally you want to celebrate their achievements.

Yet those manuals left little room for parents to trust their own judgement. The experts knew best, and the consequences of ignoring them sounded frightening.

When I suggest that plenty of people defend a strict upbringing by saying they turned out all right, Glover doesn’t entirely disagree.

“We sort of did turn out all right. But there was a lot of misery along the way. A lot of unnecessary misery along the way.”

He describes accounts of mothers waiting for the clock to reach the prescribed feeding time while their babies cried. Some were crying themselves, caught between wanting to respond and believing they must follow the rules.

Years later, women looked back and wondered why they had put themselves and their babies through it.

For Glover, that’s part of what makes the history so upsetting. Parents were trying to do the right thing, often at considerable emotional cost, because someone had promised them this was the way to raise a happy child.

The delivery has changed, but he recognises the same certainty in some of today’s online parenting advice. Follow this method or buy this course, and family life will supposedly become easier.

“The truth is there’s not an easy way to do it,” he says.

“No one’s ever achieved it.”

It’s a reassuring thought for anyone who has ever wondered why a technique worked perfectly in a parenting book but fell apart in their own lounge room.

Glover is just as willing to question the stories we tell about younger parents.

When I ask whether the pendulum might have swung too far towards praising children, he challenges a familiar complaint: that every child gets a prize these days.

He remembers his boys receiving small participation trophies when they played soccer at five and six. The outstanding players received bigger awards, too.

Was a little plastic trophy for a six-year-old really such a terrible thing?

His memories of school merit certificates are rather different from the idea that children were showered with awards. They were hard to earn and a thrill to receive. His oldest grandson, approaching the end of his first school year at the time of our conversation, had earned three.

“Is three too many?” he asks.

It’s a fair question. There’s a difference between praising a child and convincing them they can do no wrong.

Glover’s frustration is with how readily we take the most exaggerated examples of parenting and apply them to everyone.

He has spent years hearing parents agonise over everyday decisions. Should their child be allowed to catch a bus into the city with friends? Does someone know the way? They work through the details, trying to allow some independence without taking an unreasonable risk.

They might get it wrong. Most, he believes, are putting considerable thought into getting it right.

“Meanwhile, the rest of society sits back in judgement, as they have always done.”

Of course, many older Australians remember a childhood with far more freedom. Glover does, too.

He rode to the creek in suburban Sydney and remembers the pleasures of being left to explore. But he is wary of remembering only the good parts.

Children riding in the back of a ute might have had a wonderful time. Some also fell out and were badly hurt.

“They say history is written by the winners, but it’s also written by the survivors,” he says.

That same willingness to look at the whole picture shapes his view of fathers who now regret spending too much time at work.

For men expected to support a household on one income, bringing home the pay packet was a substantial responsibility. Being a good father was often understood through that role, even if they later wished they had spent more time with their children.

“People should be more forgiving of themselves, because we all parent in a culture, don’t we?”

It’s perhaps the most useful thought to take from our conversation. Understanding the expectations people lived with can help explain their choices, including some of our own.

Glover’s approach to being a grandfather comes with considerably less solemnity.

He wants the children to enjoy themselves at Nana and Pa’s house, preferably without acquiring any injuries on his watch. His proposed solution is a handover system modelled on a rental car inspection, with an outline of the child on which to mark existing bruises.

Then, when a parent arrives at pick-up and spots a mark on a knee, there’s paperwork to establish that it was already there.

Even a grandfather who has researched generations of parenting advice would apparently appreciate a little protection at collection time.

To purchase Richard Glover’s book ‘How to ruin a child’ click here