Parenting

Sara writes:

We ended our last blog with a question of nature vs. nurture, if you'll recall.  Frankly, the topic is way too debate-class for my taste.  I also find it tedious to cycle through a litany of arguments when I know the answer is going to end up in the "a combination of both" range.

However, a branch of this discussion that is very much on my mind is how it relates to parenting techniques: comparing the results of helicopter parenting vs. hands-off parenting.  (Again, the answer will be "a combination of both," but the nuances of when and where one should swoop in to the rescue are very interesting to me.)

A couple weeks ago, I cleaned out our library’s supply of books by Jim Fay, who pioneered this “Love and Logic” approach to teaching. He was a principal, I believe at an elementary school. He got tired of kids being rescued by their helicopter parents, not so much because they didn’t experience concrete consequences (although I bet that was irritating) but because the child learned that they’d always be rescued. That’s not only omitting a powerful potential lesson, but actively teaching something that’s going to make this kid’s life hell when they finally decide to join the real world (at 16, 18, 24… Whenever they move out of their parents’ basement).

My instinct is to hover like a Black Hawk. Always be just a foot away, intercept any danger or conflict before it becomes real in any way. I know this isn’t doing anyone any favors, though. I’ve trained myself to keep back, observe, and only step in when sharp objects are perilously close to eyeballs.

The cool thing about these books I’m reading, though, is that they do take it beyond just switching off helicopter mode. They propose a really interesting combination of total support and empathy along with a healthy dose of real consequence. An easy example is one of preparing oneself for the elements: Instead of fighting over wearing a coat, you let your child choose whether to wear one (or shoes, for that matter). Share what you’re going to do, and perhaps why (“Man, it looks cold. Think I’ll wear my coat today.”). Let the child do what he will.

Let’s say it’s 30 degrees outside, and the boy decided he didn’t want to mess with a coat. You still go out, you play, you do whatever you planned, for as long as you know you’re not actually endangering your child. He might be uncomfortable.

I’m all for that. That’s the “Logic” bit. The nuance that I’m appreciating reading about (and have yet to totally put into practice) is, oddly enough, the “Love” bit.

To make this really work, you’re supposed to suppress the natural tendency to lecture, and really empathize with the kid.  When you get on a “Well, you should have thought of that before! How many times do I have to tell you?” soapbox, the child’s brain shuts off in irritation, hurt and anger. Now YOU’RE the problem, not the coat. If you’re just empathetic (“Aw, bummer. I hate it when I’m cold.”), the brain is still open to learning mode. Then the little person can still think, internalize a lesson and apply the new knowledge to the next situation that comes up.

Funny: We’ve been applying the Logic side pretty regularly since our first child was 6 months or so. (If she’d hit us, for example, we’d put her down and walk away. There’s your consequence.) But as the kids get older it gets harder and harder to remain neutral, much less genuinely empathetic, when they’re total pills. Consequences are clear: If you race your car on the dog, you get a time-out (and perhaps a nip from a pissed-off Dane). As far as showing empathy instead of total frustration when it’s the fifth time this has happened in twenty minutes? My instinct is to let the dog do the teaching.

I can absolutely see how Love and Logic would work, and I love the theory. It’s just going to take a lot of practice, training, sleep and coffee (fatigue and patience have an inverse relationship, I’ve found).

So, to circle back to helicopter vs. hands-off: I'll be attempting strategic hands-off doused in love and empathy.  We'll see how this goes.

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Rob writes:

One of the things that fascinates and annoys me about conversations involving child-rearing (heh heh, I said “rear”) is that we as a society seem to hold that area of discourse off-limits in terms of our willingness to criticize. It’s a sacred cow, territory we dare tread only on tippy-toes and eggshells. Even when the president’s wife promotes positive methods of raising children, Sarah Palin is able to get away with publicly criticizing her, which I realize is utterly political, but the underlying message is: “Don’t tell me how to raise my kids.” And it’s a message that seems to resonate, whether or not you agree with Palin’s politics.

By the way---tangent!---on this matter of my kids. Any time I hear a parent stress the word "my" before "kids," I want to say to him (or her): Hey dick (cunt), you're the guardian of that child, not its owner. Raising children is about stewardship, not property rights.

But it's true. Parents don’t want to be told by society how to raise their kids. And yet, nothing could possibly have greater repercussions for society at large. Try to think of something that impacts society more than how our children, and our neighbors’ children, are raised. The race of the child? Nope. The religion with which it's raised? Close, but no cigar. Its socioeconomic status? Of course not. All you need to prove the point is to accept that a child’s blackness or whiteness is less important than how he’s raised; that being raised Catholic doesn’t remotely guarantee a good girl; that poor kids can grow up to be contributing members of society, despite their financial disadvantages.

I’m not saying that good parenting is a guarantee---I reckon determining what “good parenting” even means would require some application of the scientific method---but it is more at the root of society’s goods and ills than anything I can think of, and I’d be wildly curious to read any well thought-out opinion to the contrary.

I’m glad for women like Michelle Obama (and their male counterparts), and really anyone with a voice who’s taking an active role in shaping society’s understanding of what it means to raise a child well. For my part, I lack the patience for such a role, as a recent encounter in a bar well illustrated for me.

By way of setting up the story, I give you two quotes from Louis CK’s HILARIOUS (which is both the name of the film and an apt description of the same):

“Kids are the only people in the world that you’re allowed to hit. They’re the most vulnerable, and they’re the most destroyed by being hit, but it’s totally okay to hit them. If you hit a dog, they will fuckin’ put you in jail for that shit. You can’t hit a person unless you can prove they were trying to kill you. But a little tiny person with a head this big who trusts you implicitly---fuck ‘em.”

Louie continues, in response to someone who defends hitting his kids as an effective way of getting them to do what he doesn’t want them to do:

“That wouldn’t be takin’ the fuckin’ easy way out, would it? How ‘bout talkin’ to ‘em for a second, ya fuckin’ retard? What are you, an idiot? What are you, a fuckin’ ape? They’re a pain in the ass? Well, you fucked a woman and a fuckin’ baby came out of her vagina, now you be patient.”

I don’t know about you, reader, but that shit makes me want to cheer. If nothing else, my love of Louis CK will be well documented over the lifetime of this blog. But anyway, my story.

So it's last December, and I’m at a bar in downtown Klamath Falls, Oregon (read: bumfuck nowhere), waiting for some friends. At some point, the subject of kids comes up, and I say to the bartender---you know what I do? I basically steal from Louie; that is, I paraphrase some of the lines quoted above, and I do it almost theatrically, confident that no one within earshot could possibly argue that it’s a good thing to hit children.

Except maybe the large fellow wearing the skin-tight Wranglers and cowboy hat three feet to my left.

“What, you don’t think it’s ever okay to hit a kid?” he drawls. He's one of those guys who moves and speaks super-slowly, giving one the impression of a wound-up snake ready to strike.

“Um, no,” I respond, matter-of-factly. “I don’t.” 

Dude looks at me like I've just said the stupidest thing he’s ever heard. He looks at me like I've said I don’t think it’s right to feed kids every day. “Well, how do you suggest dealing with ‘em when they get outta line?” he asks. I can hear in his tone that he wants to call me “smartass.”

“By reasoning with them---” I start to say, at which point dude looks at his old lady, then the bartender, and snorts.

“You ain’t never had kids. They don’t know what reason is.”

And I’m thinking, “Yeah, because you lack the patience to teach them, you fuck.” I can feel his temper, though, so I turn away and say nothing. I know he’s willing to smack his own kids around, so it isn’t gonna be a stretch for him to take a swing at me. I go back to my beer, fuming, wallowing in the ironic fact that I want to punch this bully in the face for hitting his kids---kids who will grow up with the understanding that hitting people they disagree with is an acceptable first response. And maybe that’ll affect me, and maybe it won’t, but it’ll affect someone.

And that’s one of the reasons I think it’s okay---hell, it's necessary---to talk about what constitutes good parenting. Because fuckstick parents raise fuckstick kids, and they fucking affect the rest of us.

As for you, Pavs, I’m inclined to just nod and agree with what you’ve written above. I know you, and I know you’re an exceptional person and parent, and I’m not worried about your kids. I trust that your methodology for raising them is thoughtful, compassionate, sound. But that shit isn't the case for a lotta-lotta parents out there, and a lotta-lotta monsters are being inflicted on the rest of us, and I think it's time we all get our heads out of our asses and ask ourselves: What's the better plan? Pouring millions of tax dollars per year into locking these bastards up? Or maybe---juuust maybe---should we as a society stop relying on band-aids and start working toward that precious ounce of prevention?

I know. I'm a lunatic.

_____________

Sara writes:

I LOVE your Louis C.K. excerpt (and the man himself). That’s spot-on.

And your friend at the bar, re: kids not knowing what reason is — that’s just maddening. We all have an animal nature as well as the potential for higher thought. Using your unfair physical advantage to scare a kid into doing what you want is just your lizard brain zapping his lizard brain. Short-circuiting the possibility of higher thought.

I’m not saying a squalling two-year-old is ready to be reasoned with, but there are techniques for waiting out the storm until his brain surfaces again. Then he sure as hell can learn. And if you’re not teaching him the power of words and thought, then you’re teaching him the power of the fist. And someone else’s kid is going to pay for that in middle school.

Here’s the hurdle, though, to raising the overall level of child-raising in America: I can’t think of something that’s more personal than parenting. I’m sure it’s different for everyone, but for myself and most of my parent-friends, the gravity of creating and raising a person coupled with the dearth of definitive instructions makes for some massive insecurity. (If that wasn’t obvious from our last post.)

It’s like you’ve been given a set of Tinkertoys (or my personal favorite, Capsela), told that you’re responsible for building something that will determine the happiness of the person you love most in the world — and impact the lives of hundreds of other people. With 20 sets of conflicting, vague instructions.

You do your best, right? And then move the hell on, because dwelling on the potential for making a poor choice is maddening.

But when someone says you’re parenting incorrectly, it strikes deeper than a simple criticism of technique. It snaps you back to that insecurity, and frankly feels like an implicit criticism of your children, and stand the fuck back when that happens.

So, you’re right. We need to have more open discourse about parenting techniques, and the responsibility parents have to raise children who won’t screw up other people (at the very least). There are clearly better ways and worse ways to raise children. I just wish I had a better idea for how to get around knee-jerk mother-bear reactions, so those ideas can be heard and considered.

What would work? Widespread research, perhaps coupled with institutionalized education of expecting parents. (How else to mandate that parents-to-be stop and think, even for a few hours, about how they’re going to teach their kids to be people?) Sounds suspiciously like big government, though. Good luck getting people to listen to ideas coming from that corner.

Hm. We need to get the Love and Logic guru to come up with a plan whereby bad parents see immediate consequences, get empathy, consider their choices and learn from their mistakes. Evidently it works for two-year-olds.