Good Parent Karma

Today I got an e-mail from my dad, and although it contained a few brief lines written from a cyber cafe in Parping saying “It seems like the wedding plans are in order, I’m very happy for both of you”, it brought me so much emotion.  You see, my dad has been in Nepal since November of last year, and I haven’t communicated with him since.  He’s on a Buddhist retreat, fulfilling a lifelong dream he put off for decades while he slaved away in an industry he hated.  His only goal was to provide his family with the best in life, and he constantly told us that the only inheritance he could give us was a good education.

I am blessed with two parents who understood the concept of parenting at its core, even though they both came from highly dysfunctional families.  They both knew that parenting doesn’t mean being your child’s buddy or rescuer.  It doesn’t mean doing things for them or sheltering them from the big bad world.  It doesn’t mean keeping them dependent so they will always need you and always stay by you.  It doesn’t mean lying to them, ignoring questions, or dumbing down answers.  It doesn’t mean doing their homework or fighting their battles.  It doesn’t mean giving them things in lieu of giving them love and time.

For them, parenting means arming children with tools to succeed in life.  From the time we were born, they pushed us towards independence, giving us a delicate balance of freedom and limits, combined with consistency, discipline, role modeling, and the kind of unconditional love only parents have.  This parenting potion gave us the security and stability we needed to go forth with confidence.  We inched towards independence, secure in the knowledge that they stood behind us like coaches in a boxing ring; not to soften the blows, but to remind us of our own strength and preparation, and to give us the sometimes necessary push to go back into the fight.  They weren’t perfect, but they were in it for the right reason.  It was hard work, the most difficult role they ever took on, and yet not once did they falter or cave.

Their mantra was this poem by Khalil Gibran:

Children, Chapter IV

And a woman who held a babe against her bosom said, “Speak to us of Children.”
And he said:
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts.
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness;
For even as he loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable.

I don’t yet have children of my own, but I approach my students with the same love, discipline, limits and freedom that my parents gave me, because it’s the only formula I know works.

A lot of women go into the pre-school teaching field because they “love” children.  They love how cute and funny and innocent they are.  But the real test comes when you love a child enough to set limits and say “no”.  Some people can’t handle that, even when the child is imploring (through his actions, not words):  “Please tell me what’s right and what’s wrong, what I can and cannot do, so I can make order in my head and move forth in my work of development and growth.”

Thank you, mom and dad, for hearing my pleas early on in life and having the strength, courage, and selflessness to do something about it.  If I had one wish, it would be for every child to be so lucky.

Mommies Who Get It

I have been DELIGHTED to get so many amazing responses to the Parenting, Inc. book review from mommies who are sick and tired of light-up toys and Barbie merchandise (and how about light-up Barbie merchandise?!).  You guys give me hope that when I have kids, I’ll be able to find mom-friends who have the same values I do, and who respect their kids and know what’s best for their development.  Hats off to all of you, and A BIG THANK YOU for sending me links! I’m working on a follow-up post as soon as I recover from this majorly insane week (more on that later, but it involves temper tantrums, peeing on carpets, head-banging and shoe-flinging).

I’m so brain-dead, I can’t think of a good title for this post

In the expansive (haha) amounts of free time I have left after teaching, cleaning the house, picking out tiles and fixtures for our bathroom remodeling project, practicing Italian, and planning our wedding, I am reading Parenting, Inc. (I know I should be reading The Advanced Montessori Method, but even hard-core Montessorians can get overloaded sometimes).

I plan to write an entire post (or two) about some of the book’s themes (it’s quite good), but in the meantime, I thought I’d share this concept from the book for you to mull over: Problem-Solving Deficit Disorder.

Wanna know where it starts?  Read this NYT article…

If Your Kid Is a Picky Eater…

So many parents in the school where I work stress out and worry about their children’s nutrition.  Some force-feed the kids at home, making the little ones sit at the table for hours on end, spoon-feeding them until they’ve eaten “enough”; they expect teachers to do the same at school (we obviously don’t).  Others have simply given up and sustain their “picky” children on a diet of mac n’ cheese, Lucky Charms, and dinosaur nuggets.

If you, as a parent, find yourself caught in this struggle, maybe the following story will change the way you approach your child’s eating habits…

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

When I was three years old, my family moved to a small condominium complex in Mexico City.  Our next-door neighbors, a registered nurse and her anesthesiologist husband, also had two young children.  The girl, Lorena, was my age, and we quickly became close friends.

Lorena was a pale and skinny little thing who was afraid of everything (including her over-bearing mother).  She would categorically refuse to eat anything except canned tuna fish.  Her mom would sit with her at the dinner table for hours, forcing her to gulp down cream of spinach or some other healthy food.  After hours of fighting (once she even tied her down in desperation), her mom would break down and open a can of tuna.

Apart from the eating issue, Lorena suffered from a slew of “ailments”, including allergies to cats and mysterious rashes.  She took medicine constantly and was regularly covered in ointment to heal her hives.

When I turned five, my family and I moved to the countryside near San Diego.   My parents bought a beautiful hilltop  house with a swimming pool and two acres of open land.  The first summer we were there, my mom called Lorena’s mom and, after much negotiating, arranged for the little girl to come visit us for two months.

When Lorena arrived, she brought a small suitcase with her clothes, and a larger one filled with medication, ointments, and cans of tuna fish.  A letter from her mom stated: “Lorena is a very picky eater, and frankly it’s a struggle to get her to eat.  When you get tired of fighting with her, feel free to open a can of tuna since it’s the only thing she likes.”

My mom took one look at the quivering little girl, stashed the medications and tuna fish in the closet, and announced that it was lunch time.

“What’s for lunch?” my brother and I eagerly asked.

“Turkey sandwiches and carrot salad,” answered my mom.

“I don’t like turkey and I don’t eat carrots,” said Lorena.

“OK, then don’t eat,” replied my mom calmly.

“Can we eat her food?” we asked, ravenous after playing outside all morning.

“No, that’s Lorena’s food.  She’ll eat it when she’s ready,” answered my mom.

“I’m not going to eat,” replied the defiant five-year old, pushing her plate back and crossing her arms in front of her.  “I want tuna fish.”

“There’s no tuna fish,” said my mom patiently.  “There’s turkey sandwiches with carrot salad.”

My brother and I wolfed down our food, and when we were done, we grabbed Lorena’s hand and ran outside to play in the pool.  My mom put Lorena’s untouched food away and picked up the phone to arrange for swimming lessons, because five-year old Lorena didn’t know how to swim.

That evening, after chasing frogs, riding tricycles, and going down the water slide for five hours, we were called inside for dinner.

“I don’t want to eat any of that,” said Lorena upon eying the chicken, potatoes and vegetables my mom had prepared.

“Well,” answered my mom.  “This is what’s for dinner.”

Lorena sat pouting with her arms crossed while my brother and I inhaled our portions and asked for seconds.

The next morning, we woke up to scrambled eggs and refried beans.

“I don’t like eggs or beans,” grumbled Lorena.

“Well, it’s what’s for breakfast,” answered my mom, while my brother and I piled our plates high.

To make a long story short, Lorena went on a two-day hunger strike.

On the third day, my mom served Lorena her usual portion of whatever was on the menu, and Lorena ate.  And ate.  And ate.

She ate vegetables, chicken, meat, potatoes, rice, eggs, milk, fish, fruit, and everything else my mother served her from then on.

The frail weakling of a child gained 10 pounds, achieved a healthy sun-kissed glow, and learned to swim.  Her allergies never manifested themselves (even though we had two cats) and she didn’t have a single rash during her entire two-month stay.

Towards the end of the visit, my mom arranged for Lorena’s mom to spend a week with us in San Diego before flying back with her daughter.  When Lorena found out her mom would be arriving the next day, she broke into a rash and pooped in the pool.

And she refused to eat anything other than tuna fish for the rest of the stay.

Nurture Shock

Here’s an insightful interview with the author of “Nurture Shock”, a new book that examines the effects of current mainstream parenting styles on our children’s behaviors.  You can read the transcript or listen online:

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=112292248

Up To the Challenge?

A Montessori teacher recently wrote in her blog that, in her experience, children who are given a choice between Montessori materials and materials thought up by the teacher (such as sorting little balls with tongs and counting different colored rocks) would choose the latter over the Montessori materials.

While this is very sad, the phenomenon does not surprise me one bit in this day and age of over-praising.  From the moment children are born into our society, they are praised and rewarded for everything they do.  I have seen three-year old children praised for getting into their car seats, drinking from a child-sized water fountain, and pushing in their chairs. While all this praise is given to supposedly bolster the little ones’ self-esteem and help them figure out right from wrong, it has quite the opposite impact.

Children who are praised become dependent on external rewards, and quickly become hesitant to try something challenging that will not immediately garner them a rather generic “good job” or a gold star from an adult.  Therefore, it’s logical to assume that they wouldn’t be attracted to any activity that might require them to try, fail, and try again.   Additionally, because some Montessori materials require the child to use his own judgment to evaluate whether he has been successful, they will not be attractive to children who depend on adults to evaluate what is “good” and what isn’t.

As if praise weren’t harmful enough to  young children, they are also living in a society built around instant gratification.  From the time they can sit up, children are placed in front of battery-operated toys that light up and make noise following each interaction.  These children rarely get to experience the internal satisfaction that comes from setting a goal, overcoming challenges, reaching the objective, and actually recognizing that the objective has been reached.

So yeah… Transferring cotton balls with tongs from one bowl to another is a heck of a lot less risky than building the trinomial cube.  But which one is more rewarding, in the TRUE sense of the word?

If you think that a three-year old child is too young to have been “broken” by rewards, think again.  I once saw a three-year old outside an IKEA who was refusing to enter the enormous store with her parents.  The mother insisted, and the child replied, “I’ll go into the store if you give me an Oreo.”  The mother turned purple as she tried to swallow an overflowing spoonful of her own bitter medicine.

Parents think they are responsible for doling out rewards, and yet human beings are not born with a need for them… Babies are risk-takers, stopping at nothing to achieve their goals of learning about the world.  I’ve never seen anyone strike their head against the floor so many times as a baby who is learning how to stand.  They hit that floor HARD!  And yet, they try over and over again until they are successful.   Do they stand up any faster if we give them a gold star?  No.  Will they take longer to stand up if we ignore them?  Again, no.  They stand up when they are good and ready, after they have tried many alternatives and have learned what works best.  Where does this internal drive go?  Once it’s lost, can we ever get it back?

If everyone could choose between doing busywork in their office (which, while boring, is a safe bet and gets you a secure paycheck) or undertaking the challenges of starting a business (which, while being very challenging and risky, is also immensely rewarding and educational), which one would most people choose?  Why do you think that is?

Which kind of person do you want your child to be?  It’s all in your hands.

Pushing Kids Too Hard Can be Childish

Here’s an interesting story from NPR.  You can listen to it or read the transcript… While I don’t agree with praise AT ALL, I do think that at the very least parents should be aware of what they choose to emphasize in their child’s life.