When my oldest, N, was young, probably toddler-aged, I read in a book or on a blog or in some article a very, very important bit of parenting advice that has stuck with me more than anything else I've read or tried, and applies regardless of what other parenting or discipline methods you subscribe to. It has to do with how we talk to our kids, both in praise and in displeasure.
It's a simple concept, really, but in practice it takes concentration and self-control. What it boils down to is, when we talk to our children about their behavior, positive or negative, good or bad, it's vital to talk about the action, not the character of the child. We need to reinforce actions we want them to take again, and we want to point out and correct actions we want them to change. What we don't want to do is praise or criticize things they can't change or traits they can't "do."
Let's look at a positive example first.
Let's say your kid is very smart (of course!), and they bring home their first report card, and it's straight A's (of course), and the teacher's comment is that your child is a pleasure to have in class and is above grade level in every subject. That's fantastic. You're ecstatic! You've always demanded academic excellence of your children, and you knew he had it in him, and you're thrilled that he's living up to all your expectations for him. You want to convey to your child that you are very happy with his performance in school and want him to continue to excel, put out effort, work hard, and enjoy learning.
What not to say: "You're so smart!"
Why not? He is smart! He should be proud of himself!
Yes, but "smart" isn't something he does or doesn't do. "Smart" isn't something he can change about himself. "Smart" isn't a lesson he can learn or an action he can repeat. And what happens when he fails his first test or forgets to do his homework or gets yelled at by a teacher? Is he suddenly not "smart"? How is he supposed to remedy any setbacks with "smart"?
What to say instead: "You worked hard and it shows! I'm so proud of the effort you made!"
Here, you're praising what he did, not the trait of "smartness." This way he knows that hard work and persistence is what's going to get him ahead in life and in school. "Smart" is all well and good, but it's what you do with "smart" that will make the difference. Plenty of smart people do poorly in school, fail out, or give up, either because they're bored or because they don't know how to deal with not understanding something or failing once. With praising the effort rather than the trait, he now knows that it's up to him to continue to put out that effort to do well, and that if there is a setback or failure, he can step it up and keep trying in order to succeed.
Now, let's look at the flip side - a negative example.
By negative, I mean a behavior you want to correct.
Let's say your kid has trouble getting ready for school on time. She dawdles when she's getting dressed, wastes time while eating breakfast, and takes twice as long as she should to pack up her backpack, and even then manages to forget stuff, and you find yourself constantly having to bring her lunch or homework to school for her later. This, understandably, causes frustration every morning, and in a moment of pique, you yell at her.
What not to say: "You're so lazy! What's wrong with you? It's the same every morning! Why are you so slow?!"
Why not? She is being lazy and slow! And it's annoying! And you're sick of it!
Yes, of course you're sick of it, and frustrated, and you can't understand why she hasn't learned yet. But telling her she's lazy and slow is reinforcing an image she's already created of herself. And if she's a lazy, slow kid, then that's just who she is - see, even Mom thinks so - and it's not going to change now. You even said so: it's the same every morning.
What to say instead: (And, yes, you can yell this if you need to!) "It takes so long for you to get ready in the morning! Why don't you get your stuff together the night before! That would save so much time, and I wouldn't have to constantly be bringing your things to you at school! You need to get dressed before you eat breakfast, and you need to eat more quickly."
Here, we're talking about specific actions she can take to improve the mornings. Suggesting, even yelling, that she get her backpack together in the evening gives her a goal, something clear she can do to help her along and save her time. Maybe she honestly hasn't thought of doing that, and having you plant the idea is all she needed. Knowing that she doesn't get breakfast until she's dressed might mean she'll get dressed more quickly, because she has a goal. And, if you're willing to go that far, you can even add in that if she doesn't get dressed fast enough, she won't have time for breakfast and will either have to skip it (not recommended) or take a banana or something along in the car or on the walk to school so she isn't starving.
It's very important in a scenario like this that when she does make a positive change, such as getting her backpack ready the night before, that you acknowledge it. And, referring to above, don't say, "Good job!" Say, "Wow, getting your things ready last night made it so much easier this morning. Look at that, you're ready to go 10 minutes early!" You don't actually have to praise her, but you definitely need to show that you noticed and point out what a difference it made. If she's anything like my kid, you'll see her swell with pride at having done something "right," and hopefully that's a feeling she'll want to recapture and will continue to improve.
Let's look at one more example of each.
First, the positive.
Let's say your teenage daughter is very pretty (of course!). People are always telling her, "You're so pretty!" Even you take pride in the fact that she's so beautiful and perfect. One day, she wears an outfit that suits her especially well. Her makeup is done just-so, her hair is shiny and perfect. You're so lucky to have such a pretty daughter.
What not to say: "You're so pretty!"
Why not? She is pretty!
Well, we all know that beauty can fade, and while girls can get by on their looks for a while, eventually they also need some substance to their character to be anything in life. I hope that beyond beauty, you have dreams for your daughter to succeed in areas that require persistence, intelligence, or kindness as well.
What to say instead: I think there's a twofold reaction needed here. First, if you want to express that she's looking especially good that day, start with, "Wow, I love that outfit on you. You pick out such nice clothing." This is praising the act of choosing an attractive outfit, rather than the trait of "being pretty." She can continue to choose flattering, appropriate clothing for herself even if something happens to alter her current looks. But it's also important that you don't emphasize beauty over everything else. Be sure you're praising her for other achievements or activities, such as acts of kindness, persistence, or academic excellence. She needs to know there's more to life than looks, and she also needs to know that you value her for more than her appearance.
And now something you want to change.
Your four-year-old son is having trouble with his behavior at preschool. He's been biting and pinching other kids, and finally the director calls you in and says that if there's one more incident, he'll be asked to leave. The violence, defiance, and other difficult behaviors have to stop, because it's causing too much of a disruption and other parents are angry that their children are being hurt. You know it's time for some serious action on your part.
What not to say: "You're such a bad kid! Look at you, four years old and getting kicked out of school! Why can't you behave?!"
Why not?
I hope this time it's obvious. At four years old, you've already told him he's "bad" and that he can't behave. He's going to internalize statements like these and just assume that it's true: He's a bad kid who can't behave. And guess what bad kids who can't behave do? They misbehave!
Calling names or assigning negative traits to your child will only make things worse. Instead, they need to know both the "don't"s and "do"s of what happened so that they can hopefully make corrections in the future.
What to say instead: "Biting and pinching hurts other kids and makes them sad. If you hurt other kids, you won't be allowed to go to school anymore, and I think that will make you sad. You always tell me how much you like going to school." That's the "don't" part. But he may need more help. Continue with, "If you don't like something another child does, you need to use your words to tell them. Say, 'Don't do that!' instead of pinching, or go tell the teacher if you're upset about something." Now he has an action he can take. You've given him an alternative to violence. You're telling him to use words, and not just a vague, "use words," but exactly what words to use.
It's important to model that behavior for him, too. If he tries to bite or pinch a sibling when he's angry, or he takes a swipe at you when you do something he doesn't like, that's your opportunity to show him, in the heat of the moment, how he should act. Stop the negative behavior first, physically if you have to (grab his wrist to stop a pinch, or pull him away from the sibling - not something violent, just stop it before he gets there, if possible), and then supply the words instead. "We don't pinch, remember?! Say, 'David, I was playing with that toy and you took it. Please give it back!'" Or, "We don't hit Mommy! If you're angry with me, you can say, 'Mommy, I'm mad that you won't let me watch TV!'" Then encourage him to try it. That doesn't mean you have to let him do whatever it was he wanted to do, but you're giving him words for his feelings and a healthy way to express those feelings, instead of hitting you.
I'm not saying you're going to see a change overnight in any of these scenarios. Indeed, if there are deeper issues affecting your child's behavior, it may take far more than simple words to make that change. But words are a great place to start, because kids take far more meaning from what we say than we think they will. They also imitate what they hear and internalize values based on what you say to them. If we show them the proper behavior, demonstrate it in context, and live according to the values we want them to absorb, most kids will live up to, or even exceed, the goals we have for them.
Showing posts with label bigger kids bigger problems. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bigger kids bigger problems. Show all posts
Wednesday, May 8, 2013
Thursday, April 25, 2013
Last Night, I Told My 6-Year-Old about 9/11
We live near a very large Marine base, and, as a result, quite a large percentage of the children at my son's elementary school are family members of military personnel. Though we are not a military family, ourselves, my oldest son is becoming aware of those who serve and is learning to respect and thank those men and women.
There are many questions I've started to dread as N gets older, not knowing how I will answer them or how he'll react to those answers. So last night, when he suddenly asked me about "the war" we're in, I was both prepared and unprepared to answer him.
To me, and to many of you, I'm sure, the "wars" in Iraq and Afghanistan are not history. They are real, ongoing pieces of our lives, events that have shaped the way we see the world. I was 20 on 9/11/01, and I remember that day vividly. September 11, to me, is not history.
But to him, it is. It's abstract. It's in that hazy time "before I was born." He has never lived in a world in which 9/11 didn't happen. He has never lived in a world in which the United States was not involved in two wars in faraway lands.
He asked me what we're fighting about, and I had to, in a split second, decide how to explain it to him.
I decided to be honest without getting too political, to tell him straight without getting into too much detail. Frankly, I wasn't sure what parts of the story would upset or disturb him. What I didn't realize is that because he wasn't there, because it's not a part of his personal history, he doesn't and never will have the same emotional reaction as we did upon hearing the news that terrible morning.
I remember September 11, 2001 vividly. I remember my reaction and the reactions of friends and professors. I remember the peace rally at my college that afternoon. I remember students glued to the TV in the Campus Center, watching the 24-hour CNN coverage. I remember being dazed for weeks afterward, as the government tried to sort out what actually happened, as victims' bodies were recovered, as the casualty count rose, as the stories of heroism at the World Trade Center site from the first responders and bystanders and from the passengers on Flight 93 who crashed the plane into an empty field in Shanksville, Pennsylvania.
I remember realizing that the world, my world, had changed. That America was no longer untouched or untouchable.
As I started to explain what happened that day, and what led the United States to become involved in wars in two other countries, I found that the telling came more easily than I expected and that N wasn't as affected by my words as I expected. I told him that some bad men who hated America took some planes and crashed them into two tall buildings in New York City, that those buildings had fallen down, and that many people were killed. I told him that these bad men also crashed a plane into the Pentagon, and I explained what the Pentagon was. And I told him of those passengers on Flight 93, who caused the plane to crash in an empty field instead of a building. His response to that startled me. "They sacrificed themselves," he began, and I assumed he meant the passengers, until he continued, "to kill us?" He was talking about the terrorists. He suddenly realized that those men had killed themselves in the process of killing us, and that, he couldn't fathom. Frankly, neither can I.
I waited to make sure he wasn't upset or anxious by what I had told him so far, and then I continued, moving on to explain how President Bush wanted to find out who had done such a thing to our country, and when he decided that the bad people had come from a country called Afghanistan, he sent our military there to change things. I told him briefly about how Iraq had a leader who did terrible things to the people of his country, and that the president thought he might have weapons that could harm us. I told him that the president sent in our soldiers to change the government there, because he believed that if these two countries had democratic governments, their people would have better lives. I tried not to let too much of my own political beliefs influence the telling; it's just too complicated for a six-year-old, and I will want him one day to be able to form his own opinions, with the benefit of historical hindsight. I asked him if he was upset by anything I had told him, and he said the only thing that really bothered him was that there were still people being killed there every day. I told him it was good that he was upset about that, because it will make him remember that there is still fighting going on. I told him to think about how those men and women chose to serve their country, to fight these wars, so that his daddy and his uncle (the only two men close to him who would have been of fighting age) wouldn't have to. I told him to thank those men and women, and to thank his friends who have family members over there, for making that choice so that we don't have to.
It occurred to me today that the way he will grow up seeing 9/11 is much the way I perceive, for example, Pearl Harbor, or the Kennedy assassination. I've heard about it, and I can understand that people were devastated. But I didn't live it. I didn't experience the world shifting the way they did. For my generation, 9/11 is that world-shifting event. I hope to G-d that my kids don't have to move forward with a memory like that, and I fear what might bring such an awareness into their fragile, safe worlds.
I envy him his bubble of safety, his ability to see events as historical rather than immediate. But that won't last. The only comfort I have is knowing that I can share events with him, that I will understand how he will be affected by the shattering of how he believes the world to be.
There are many questions I've started to dread as N gets older, not knowing how I will answer them or how he'll react to those answers. So last night, when he suddenly asked me about "the war" we're in, I was both prepared and unprepared to answer him.
To me, and to many of you, I'm sure, the "wars" in Iraq and Afghanistan are not history. They are real, ongoing pieces of our lives, events that have shaped the way we see the world. I was 20 on 9/11/01, and I remember that day vividly. September 11, to me, is not history.
But to him, it is. It's abstract. It's in that hazy time "before I was born." He has never lived in a world in which 9/11 didn't happen. He has never lived in a world in which the United States was not involved in two wars in faraway lands.
He asked me what we're fighting about, and I had to, in a split second, decide how to explain it to him.
I decided to be honest without getting too political, to tell him straight without getting into too much detail. Frankly, I wasn't sure what parts of the story would upset or disturb him. What I didn't realize is that because he wasn't there, because it's not a part of his personal history, he doesn't and never will have the same emotional reaction as we did upon hearing the news that terrible morning.
I remember September 11, 2001 vividly. I remember my reaction and the reactions of friends and professors. I remember the peace rally at my college that afternoon. I remember students glued to the TV in the Campus Center, watching the 24-hour CNN coverage. I remember being dazed for weeks afterward, as the government tried to sort out what actually happened, as victims' bodies were recovered, as the casualty count rose, as the stories of heroism at the World Trade Center site from the first responders and bystanders and from the passengers on Flight 93 who crashed the plane into an empty field in Shanksville, Pennsylvania.
I remember realizing that the world, my world, had changed. That America was no longer untouched or untouchable.
As I started to explain what happened that day, and what led the United States to become involved in wars in two other countries, I found that the telling came more easily than I expected and that N wasn't as affected by my words as I expected. I told him that some bad men who hated America took some planes and crashed them into two tall buildings in New York City, that those buildings had fallen down, and that many people were killed. I told him that these bad men also crashed a plane into the Pentagon, and I explained what the Pentagon was. And I told him of those passengers on Flight 93, who caused the plane to crash in an empty field instead of a building. His response to that startled me. "They sacrificed themselves," he began, and I assumed he meant the passengers, until he continued, "to kill us?" He was talking about the terrorists. He suddenly realized that those men had killed themselves in the process of killing us, and that, he couldn't fathom. Frankly, neither can I.
I waited to make sure he wasn't upset or anxious by what I had told him so far, and then I continued, moving on to explain how President Bush wanted to find out who had done such a thing to our country, and when he decided that the bad people had come from a country called Afghanistan, he sent our military there to change things. I told him briefly about how Iraq had a leader who did terrible things to the people of his country, and that the president thought he might have weapons that could harm us. I told him that the president sent in our soldiers to change the government there, because he believed that if these two countries had democratic governments, their people would have better lives. I tried not to let too much of my own political beliefs influence the telling; it's just too complicated for a six-year-old, and I will want him one day to be able to form his own opinions, with the benefit of historical hindsight. I asked him if he was upset by anything I had told him, and he said the only thing that really bothered him was that there were still people being killed there every day. I told him it was good that he was upset about that, because it will make him remember that there is still fighting going on. I told him to think about how those men and women chose to serve their country, to fight these wars, so that his daddy and his uncle (the only two men close to him who would have been of fighting age) wouldn't have to. I told him to thank those men and women, and to thank his friends who have family members over there, for making that choice so that we don't have to.
It occurred to me today that the way he will grow up seeing 9/11 is much the way I perceive, for example, Pearl Harbor, or the Kennedy assassination. I've heard about it, and I can understand that people were devastated. But I didn't live it. I didn't experience the world shifting the way they did. For my generation, 9/11 is that world-shifting event. I hope to G-d that my kids don't have to move forward with a memory like that, and I fear what might bring such an awareness into their fragile, safe worlds.
I envy him his bubble of safety, his ability to see events as historical rather than immediate. But that won't last. The only comfort I have is knowing that I can share events with him, that I will understand how he will be affected by the shattering of how he believes the world to be.
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