A new school dad archetype
"Lion Dads" are the new Tiger Moms
This school year’s been more intense than usual, and it’s made me ask: What kind of school parent do I want to be? My son’s in second grade, so I’m still new at this. But true to form, I’ve started building a new mental model for an overlooked group: school dads. Fathers are more involved than ever in our kids’ education, yet there’s still very little cultural scripting for us in that role. It’s time to change that.
I’m calling this new archetype the “Lion Dad.” To be clear, I don’t claim to embody it perfectly. It’s an aspiration, not a brag. But it’s something I’m reaching toward and recognizing in other school dads I admire.
A Lion Dad cares deeply about his child’s education. He values academic success, emotional development, and character formation. He wants his kids to be their best selves and ready for whatever the future holds. He’s neither a Deadbeat Dad nor a Passive Partner, but he’s not a micromanager or authoritarian either. He’s present without hovering, strategic without being rigid. Like a lion, he’s protective, watchful, and calm.
A Lion Dad makes educational decisions about schools, teachers, and direction with great care. But he doesn’t bulldoze or helicopter. He supplements the classroom with camps, apps, and projects, but doesn’t force it. He goes to parent-teacher conferences, keeps up with Jonathan Haidt, and has opinions on screen time. But you probably won’t find him at bake sales. He’s still grounded in a kind of traditional masculinity, though not confined by it. You’re more likely to see him at the local Cub Scout Pinewood Derby race, science museum, or martial arts studio. You’ll spot him in the back of a school meeting, quietly taking notes.
Some may view him as a Data Dad for quoting research reports, stats, and GPT queries. But he’s not trying to parent-by-numbers or turn his kid into a startup founder by age ten. He’s trying to guide a life. He wants to give his kids agency and wings, even if he’s still figuring out how to do that. For him, it’s a quest.
Is he perfect? Of course not. He sometimes takes for granted the texture of social ties and rituals that make up a school community. He’s less fluid socially. But he brings a masculine, nerd parenting energy that’s missing in a lot of education settings.
You may remember Amy Chua’s 2011 book, Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother, which launched a wave of parenting discourse. The Tiger Mom archetype is achievement-obsessed, discipline-heavy, and Asian-immigrant-coded. It gets results, though at a cost… like the nervous breakdown a college friend had in med school.1 I respect the commitment of the Tiger Mom, even if the archetype makes me wince and stokes my competitive juices in unhealthy ways. I still picture ten thousand Amy Chuas demanding extra piano practice or berating their kid for a B+: There’s no B in H-A-R-V-A-R-D!
Then came the counter-archetypes: elephant moms, dolphin moms, jellyfish moms. So many animals, so many moms! The Elephant Mom, for example, is all about emotional nurturing and sheltering her young. But most school moms I know don’t fit into these animal metaphors. They’re Savvy Moms, Alpha Moms, Social Moms, Harried Moms. I admire them all, honestly. Many school moms have supported me in my school-dad journey, and I’m deeply grateful for them. Plus, if I’ve learned anything as a school parent, it’s that we’re all doing the best we can to support our kids while juggling life.
Meanwhile, parenting discourse continues to evolve. Free-range parenting is back in vogue, though no one seems to know how to do it.2 Struggles over screen time, smartphones, and social media are constant. We’re all just trying to raise healthy, grounded kids without frying their brains on dopamine.
But here’s what I’ve noticed: A lot of school-parent discourse still centers on moms. I’m not complaining, since moms still do more childcare on average.3 Yet there’s a massive dead zone around school dads as a class, even as dads are more involved in the lives of their children more than ever. The time fathers spend with kids has nearly tripled since 1960.4 Still, our role as school parents remains under-defined and under-discussed.
Perhaps I’m projecting, but here’s what I see: Many dads show up and care deeply but haven’t conceptualized their role in school life. There just aren’t many cultural scripts for engaged school dads. Many of our own dads weren’t active school parents, so we lack inherited models. Mine, for example, delegated everything to my mom. I don’t remember him ever checking my homework, not even once.
And that gap in school-dad scripts matters. How we support education profoundly affects the next generation. It also shapes our families, like how we share parenting duties, model fatherhood, and interact with our kids.
That’s why I’m proposing Lion Dads. My intent isn’t to exclude moms — lionesses are amazing — but to bring school dads out of the shadows and offer a model that reflects how we actually operate. Lion Dads already exist all around us, if you look.
As an aspiring Lion Dad, I’ve started orienting my school-parenting strategy around three questions: 1) What kind of learner is my child? 2) What values do I want to instill? And, 3) what are the options available?
Right now, I’m focused on three values: joy, grit, and achievement. Joy without grit is too soft. Grit without joy leads to burnout. And both, without outcomes, is just going through the motions. I want my kid to love learning, work hard, and have something to show for it. Gradually, I’m developing a school-dad compass, even if I don’t know where it will take me or how it will evolve through middle school, high school, and beyond.
For Lion Dads, the aim of school-parenting isn’t “Ivy League or bust.” It’s about laying a foundation for our children to become their best selves, nurturing their passions, and helping them find their own way.
It’s time for dads to step up and claim space in today’s parenting culture. This isn’t about ego. It’s about recognizing what we’re already doing while giving us a roadmap for showing up even more for our children, our families, and our future.
Lion Dads can roar, but we usually don’t need to. Our real job is helping our kids to find their own roars, and become kings or queens of their own jungles. I’m not there yet. But I’m trying. And I know many other dads are, too.
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Is this your way of announcing that you're joining the PTA?
Love this. Thanks for coming forward, brother. Is your kiddo in public school? Private? Waldorf? What led you to choose the particular education path he's on, and how is it working for him?