Editor’s Note: One of the founding writers behind the genre known as "chick lit," Jane Green now writes novels that reflect the lives of real women today, with all the trials and tribulations that come with real life: from in-laws, motherhood, midlife crises and loss, all of which are told with Green’s trademark warmth, wit and wisdom. Winner of a Cosmopolitan Fun Fearless Fiction award, her tenth novel, The Beach House, is currently on the New York Times bestseller list. A native Londoner, Green now lives in Connecticut with her partner and four children. Visit her website at JaneGreen.com.

I recently read an article about the damage we have done in focusing on giving our children ridiculous levels of self-esteem, the fact that we are raising — and have raised — a generation of narcissists who believe everything they do is wonderful.

The article, called Are We Feeling Too Good About Ourselves for Our Own Good, states the following: “In the 1950s, just 12 percent of teens age 14 to 16 agreed with the statement ‘I am an important person.’ Yet by the late 1980s, an incredible seven times that — 80 percent — of teens said they agreed with it.”

This is not a good thing, just in case you were wondering. Important without having achieved anything? Living at home, no job yet? Why on earth should they see themselves as important?

The author, Maura R. O’ Connor, goes on to say that there is no statistical proof that greater self-esteem causes greater happiness. If anything, the reverse is true.

All of which resonates with me.

It resonates with me when I am waiting for a car to reverse out of a parking spot behind Main Street, and the car behind me hoots mercilessly, and when I smile and shrug, indicating this car is about to go, the teenager behind the wheel gives me the finger and tells me to "f*** you."

It resonates with me when I am ice-skating with the kids, and when the Zamboni comes on and everyone has to get off the ice, there is a group of seven-year-olds who refuse to move from the entrance. The guys at Longshore tell them repeatedly, in nice terms, to move. When I go over and say firmly, "Kids, get out of the way now," the seven-year-old in the front looks at me, bold-faced, and rolls his eyes.

It resonates with me when I hear about recent graduates starting their first jobs, and refusing to make coffee, or collect mail, or do anything they deem as menial because they think they are better than that.

It resonates with me, ultimately, because we are living in the age of entitlement, and I wish things were different; I wish we had a good healthy dose of humility to bring us back down to earth.

When I first moved to America, with a 13-month-old, I was somewhat surprised at the other mothers at the playground. When my son came down the slide, it wasn’t necessary to tell him what a marvelous thing he had just done. When the other children did, however, the mothers stood around applauding, "Great job! Good job!"

Their kids would stand up. "Great job!" And then sit down again. "Great job!" It got to the point where I was waiting for them to applaud their children’s breathing. "Great job breathing! Yay for Scotty!"

I was baffled. Growing up in England in the ’70s, I was raised with extraordinarily healthy levels of low self-esteem. (Mum – do NOT take this personally …) Everyone was. We all grew up being taught to respect adults, to listen to them, that we weren’t terribly important, unless of course we did something terribly important, in which case we were praised.

I do not believe for a second I would be a bestselling author today had I not been raised the way I was. It taught me to prove myself. I didn’t think I was important, so it taught me to strive for something, to achieve, to make something of myself.

Which is not to say I think all kids should be raised and told they are not important, but rather that we should not be frightened to say when it is not good enough, and not be frightened to withhold the rewards if they haven’t earned them.

Upstairs, in my kids’ bedrooms, are roughly 30 sports trophies. I should be proud. I wish I could be proud, but these trophies are handed out to the children for taking part. Not for winning.

Since when did competition become unhealthy? The world is not an easy place, and it is a competitive place. You do not get far in life by sitting around and waiting for other people to applaud you for doing, well, nothing much.