Tag Archives: teaching

I'm Trying Not to Warn Them Anymore

Monday mornings we have piano lessons. A family friend is their teacher, and due to some interesting schedule changes, her kids are home this month during lesson time. I made a deal with the boys that they could play with the kids if they agree to complete their math assignment before we go. Last week was our first run-through and things went rather well.

This morning, I got them up early again and right after breakfast I took them downstairs to start the math lesson. I’ve been more hands-on with math recently so it’s been taking longer than it had to get all the problems completed. Right away today The Mercenary insisted that they wouldn’t have enough time to get everything done. It quickly turned into an argument, which I ended by announcing that I had a plan, there was enough time, and they’d just have to try it out to see if I was right.

As soon as I finished going over the new concept (this took all of ten minutes) I sent them off to do their page while I worked on lessons with the younger boys. It wasn’t long before loud hysterical laughter started emanating from the office. They played with the puppy for a while, then sent her out but continued being very silly.

I just KNEW they weren’t getting anything done. Normally I go and try to get them back on track by reminding them of their job and warning that they’ll suffer (insert consequence here-today it was lost friend time) if they don’t straighten up.

This time, I didn’t do it. I stopped myself from walking over to the office and instead focused on younger boys’ work. When it was time to go to piano lessons I initiated departure procedures.

Boy were they upset! The shock and betrayal… it was impressive. The Mercenary said, “I TOLD you we didn’t have enough time!!!” I just replied, “Well I guess not, since you were so busy laughing and playing for the last half hour.”

TechnoBoy decided to work on his assignment in the car so as to salvage at least a little play time. The Mercenary joined him, and they both worked furiously while I drove. When we got to lessons I asked to see their papers and TechnoBoy handed me two completed assignments. I asked him, “So you finished in 15 minutes what you couldn’t do in 30?”

His reply: “Stop proving your point!!!”

I could learn to like this way of parenting.

by AmyL

Photo graciously provided by A Moon Man, through a Creative Commons license, some rights reserved

A Subtle Message On The Fridge

Not too long ago, my 17 year-old son realized that he had forgotten to keep up with his laundry, and with the day drawing to a close, started rushing to get it done (especially as he needed a clean soccer uniform). So there he was, slightly agitated/freaked, when I walked up to him and offered to continue it for him, to give him a chance to catch some shut-eye by babysitting his wash. Grateful, he thanked me, and wandered back to his room to wrap up his other school-night chores.

Some time later, he meandered back to the common room/den/TV room, and noticed that I was sitting on my butt while the dryer was sitting idle. He immediately turned on me, urgently verbalizing his displeasure with more than a bit of harshness. (In other words, I was doing him a favor and was now getting yelled at for it.)

I get that they are kids, that their brains aren’t fully developed, and there will be some biting of the hand that feeds. So I was able to gather myself and calmly address him, telling him that the dryer had just finished its cycle and that I was on top of everything. My calm manner just seemed to add fuel to his fire, and he continued to upbraid me.

Now came the decision: Do I yell back? Do I tell him to do it himself? Do I cry or run away? Do I panic and rush to finish his laundry?

After counting to ten, I decided that all of those might be fine options, but that they weren’t in the best interest of my child. This was a parenting opportunity I was facing, and I was not going to let it pass me by.

So instead of any of those previously mentioned options, I went another way. I sat there and smiled at him. And I waited, not moving at all. He flailed around a bit, huffed and puffed, and eventually settled down enough to walk himself back to his room in frustration. I then waited a full two minutes, before calmly walking over to our laundry area and moving the stuff in the dryer into a basket and moving the stuff in the washer into the dryer. Then I took a final step: I printed up the following sign and stuck it on the fridge:

Poor Planning On Your Part
Does Not Constitute
An Emergency On My Part

Fifteen minutes later, my son came out of his cave, walked past the washer/dryer, saw that things were moving along, then stopped by the fridge for a drink. He seemed to have read the sign I posted, because he was sweet as pecan pie the rest of the night, and ever since.

Now, I’m not a hundred percent certain that the sign did its job, or whether his outburst was just a lone moment of frustration and weariness. But I am hopeful that I did the right thing, and that he learned what he needed to learn.

by Stu Mark

Photo graciously provided by cisc1970, through a Creative Commons license, some rights reserved

Learning Not To Worry

I tend to worry, a lot. I worry about everything. You’ve probably noticed that theme in a column or two of mine here. Thankfully, I have not yet passed along that affliction to my children.

The middle of last week, my son left his very favorite stuffed animal at after school care. He is still learning to keep better track of this things. It’s something we’ve been working on all school year.

I feared for the worst, that it was gone forever. I worried all night. I tried not to tell him that I was as worried as I was.

When I asked him about what we should do the next day, he said, “Oh mom, it’s not a problem. They put out a lost and found table at lunch time. I am sure my Orca whale will be there.” and just like that he was satisfied. He didn’t need to give it another thought.

The next morning, when he entered his class first thing in the morning, one of his classmates handed him the Orca whale stuffed animal in question. I don’t know where it came from, or how the friend came to be in possession of it. My son didn’t think to interrogate his friend and get all of those details. I suspect this friend was given the stuffed animal in the morning extended care by the teachers who knew it belonged to my son.

Whatever the method by which this stuffed animal found his way home, I learned that my son with his absence of worry, didn’t spend the previous night in restless sleep. He just knew his stuffed animal would turn up. Every once in a while, you teach something to your children. More often then that, they teach things to you.

by Rocket Science Mom

Photo graciously provided by John-Morgan, through a Creative Commons license, some rights reserved

Yours, Mine and Ours

In a family, who “owns” things?

Is it your house, our house- who takes ownership for it?

Who’s homework is it? The kids? How much help do you give before it also becomes yours?

With money issues, who owns the bills? Is everything split up according to consumption? Who spent what? Who benefits from the expenditures?
If someone gets sick, or pregnant, is it “ours” on any level? Are “we” sick, or is the individual sick?

I hear people say “We’re Pregnant” to share the joy, when as far as I can tell, only one person is actually carrying the baby around for those first 9 months.
Likewise, a friend who was recently diagnosed with breast cancer- her husband talks about how “we” are going to fight it. As far as I can tell, while he is one of the best and most empathetic people I know, he’s not the one actually having surgery and chemo.

The point of these questions is to talk about ownership and responsibility of course, and how all of this can get quite complicated in a family.

As parents, we know our kids have to take responsibility for the work they have or have not done. Say you are responsible for things like laundering the team uniform and it just didn’t get done, or taking the kid to get school supplies, etc. and you don’t make the trip. Sometimes it isn’t the kid’s fault entirely.

But does this excuse the kid from getting a detention if the homework was left in the car? If a form wasn’t signed, is it the kid’s fault or ours? Where is that line between a kid’s responsibility and our own?

Likewise, if I am late paying the bills, the credit score affected is both mine and my husband’s, even if it wasn’t strictly his responsibility. The bank doesn’t care. We are all painted with the same brush. Likewise, if I make extra money, or inherit money from my relatives, how much of this is “mine” and how much of this is “ours”?

If I don’t take care of myself, am I letting myself down, or my whole family?

The decisions that happen within a family are every bit as complicated as they are in business or any other sphere – and more so, because every decision can be complicated by emotions, making issues more difficult to sort out. If my child asks me to bring a forgotten project in to him at school, am I enabling him if I agree? Or am I teaching him to be more responsible? If he gets a detention because of it, is he paying twice because I wouldn’t “save” him?

The lines between what’s yours, mine and ours get really blurry in families. We refer to things like “mom’s car” “dad’s workshop” “your room” to place some designation on space, privacy and ownership, but so often these lines are crossed (mostly when it’s convenient to do so). A kid’s room becomes their own personal space but “you are living in MY house and will do what I say” when we want them to maintain basic hygienic standards, yet we ask them to respect our own personal space more than we often respect theirs.

I have no real answers here, only questions- are the lines between who “owns” what, and who takes responsibility for what blurry in your house, too? Who “owns” the dog? Whose plate is in the sink? Who forgot to close the door?

I think we all need to have some stuff that is sacred and ours alone, while there are other things that are meant to be shared and help bind us together as a group, special and separate from the rest of the world. (I am still hoping my toothbrush falls into the first category and not the second, but not everyone in this house always adheres to that rule.)

How do you sort out ownership and responsibility in your house, versus what’s part of the collective? I’m finding these issues come up more and more as my kids get older and take on more responsibility. What’s happening with you?

by Whitney Hoffman

Photo graciously provided by Let Ideas Compete, through a Creative Commons license, some rights reserved

Just Say No, Thank You

When my kids were in the early stages of elementary school, they were immersed in the D.A.R.E program (Drug Abuse Resistance Education). At first this seemed a good idea, something I supported heartily. But after a while I became hip to the D.A.R.E. tagline, “Just Say No.” … It just didn’t sit well with me.

At first, I focused on the semantic issue, that the instruction was impolite, that they should have been teaching the kids to say “Just Say No, Thank You,” instead of the harsher, more strident, “Just Say No!”

But that belied a deeper issue for me, that they were failing to keep kids away from dangerous substances. Their hearts were in the right place, but the adults who came up with D.A.R.E. were not overly connected to how kids deal with instructions or education. Kids don’t want to be told what to do, they don’t want to be issued a command, and they certainly don’t respond well to a lack of civility.

So when my kids got home one day, I taught them about “Just Say No, Thank You.” And they smiled and they opened up to a genuine discussion about drug abuse and addiction and dangerous chemicals and human physiology.

Their openness led me to a grander parenting scheme: When I saw that they responded better to civility and gentle guidance than they did to strident instruction, I decided that openly supporting and respecting their free will was next. And that’s exactly what I did. I slowly stopped saying “Sorry, but no,” and instead, started saying, “Well, I wouldn’t, and here’s why, but if you want to, well, that’s your choice and I respect you either way.”

I’m not kidding, it really worked. They loved it and they took to it like a duck takes to bread crumbs. And, surprisingly, they chose the option I recommended some 95% of the time, and they did it with good humor and a sense of earnestness and confidence.

And today, many years later, they’re none the worse for wear. They’ve made solid decisions, thoughtful decisions, and they are proud of themselves for having had the courage and the brains to make these decisions without the needed parental crutch.

Now I’m not sayin’ that this is the way you should parent your kids. But I will say that it might be something to consider.