I think the most productive turns in this conversation have come when people have shared their personal experiences, so here goes a dose of mine:
I was born to a single mother who came out of a very small mormon community. While her father had educated himself and chosen a career in pharmacy, both her parents were raised on farms and with the basic tenet that the church will do a huge part of raising your kids. They lived with tons of space and unsupervised time. There were six kids that basically got to do as they please, and figure things out on their own. Most of those lessons were good, but the sexual politics of the place were still suffocating, and when my mom came out the wrong end of those politics she was forced to leave. She moved to Salt Lake City and had me on her own.
We lived check-to-check for years. She was lucky to find steady work (without a day spent at college and without taking high school seriously) doing data entry. She had no pretension that her job contributed to some greater good; it didn't provide any rich meaning for her; but she also knew she couldn't move laterally somewhere else more meaningful and she was absolutely dependent on the amount she was making. Coming home and dealing with a kid after a day like that left little time for any other kind of community or resources for insight/meaning. It was day-to-day, like sitting at a loom.
Eventually she met the man she'd marry and have two more kids with. They met at work. This guy was a mild to moderate alcoholic, always teetering on a bad mood and really possessive of his space. But he was a dependable provider. All he valued was work (and then playing HARD). I mean it: ask him for one spec of insight and it all comes back to keeping your nose to the grindstone and picking yourself up by the bootstraps. He can't give you a single insight into human characters that doesn't quickly reduce itself into a strategy for selling them something. My mother's hardships had eventually turned her into a similar character. They meshed.
The house was like a training field for how to be a dependable laborer. If you strayed from the vision and their punctuality -- as I often did, out chasing pheasants, riding my bike, building forts... you know, kid things -- then you got spanked. When I was 5 they gave me a watch and made me check in with them every hour and on the hour. If I was 5 minutes late, then I had to stay in for the rest of the day and there was some other form of punishment that would happen before the day was through. Like punching a clock.
They were exceedingly proud when I bought my own nintendo with money I'd saved shoveling driveways all winter. I was seven. I'd pick up yard work jobs like this for the rest of my youth. My first job came in the summer of my 11th year: two dollars per hour watering plants at a nursery. I bought a bike. They were absolutely convinced they were teaching me all the values I needed to succeed. Of course, I wasn't really challenged by any of this ****. This was just work I was doing while my mind was on other things, and it always felt weird when we'd have some small "proud of ya" talk after I'd saved enough to purchase something. I mean, the rest of my life was far more interesting... you know, what I was doing/learning with these things. In their mind, they were keeping track of "the rest" by monitoring my grades at school. I received nothing but As until the last quarter of 4th grade. That quarter I had broken my right hand during recess and my teacher gave me an A- in handwriting. My step-dad saw the grade, flew into a rage, and hit me in the face for the first time. Not the last.
This all has a few points. Here's the first: the axes of reward and punishment were all derivative of wage labor. It was all work for work's sake. Nothing more needed to be said. And, here's the second point: the dramas of wage labor, which my parents were so thoroughly steeped in, conform very poorly to the experiences of childhood. I mean, it's sort of a magical thing that adults learn to conform to the values of wage labor, especially on the edge of solvency, but kids obviously have no intuitive grasp of this, nor should they. If kids have any intuitive sense for this stuff, that all comes to the fore when they ask "why?". They know that there is no such thing as a value in itself (no such thing as work for work's sake, end of discussion). The smartest moves I've made as a more mature person are paying attention to that intuitive sense, and valuing my labor and learning way more than I was taught.
***
I could go on and talk about how I paid my own way through college and yada yada yada. I have bootstrapping stories for days. But most of that would occlude my points. Instead, I'd like to let a different light into this discussion: what do we value besides work? and how does the day-to-day reality of work soak up our available time to perfect/deepen these values? what about finding new non-work values?
My parents made the mistake of living a polarized life: WORK VALUES, which then switched over to HOW-TO-RELAX-FROM-WORK-STRESS-BEFORE-GOING-BACK-TO-WORK VALUES. That polarity eventually became unipolar: WORK. There have been a few times in this thread when national pride has surfaced. I'd say if we want to be proud of something, then lets live rich lives outside the dramas of work. And if we can't, then let's do our damnedest to give this to our kids.
tl;dr
EDIT TO ADD:
I don't want this to read as a complaining about my childhood. While it was happening I always felt it was normal. And there were stretches of time when me and my sisters were absolutely spoiled with things.