The other day, my 7-year-old son didn’t want to do the math worksheet I’d given him for summer homework. He whined, he made mistakes, he got annoyed and sulky, all the while trying to get through to me how much he wanted to ride his bike.
If I Kind Parent? listen How did he feel? Get Involved What are his feelings? negotiate Have you explained to him the timeline for completing the job?
Of course I care about how my sons feel, and I care about the way they live, cope, andServingIt’s not, it shouldn’t be, it can’t be, in the wider world.
I’m not a great parent, but I ended up doing all of those things.
But first, I ignored him as best I could for over an hour while he sulked and sulked, and then I allowed the other kids (who all did as instructed without complaint) to ride their bikes and play in the playground without him.
Then, every time he tried to explain to me how much he hated math worksheets, or how much he wanted to help his brother on the playground, or how angry he was when he had to do math when he wanted to ride his bike, I would speak to him sternly, repeating, “First I listen, then I talk.”
This incident was painful for him, for me and for the other children.
It would have been much easier, much more comfortable, to lie to myself and tell myself that there was nothing wrong with retracting a mundane instruction like “do the math” on a particularly balmy summer morning.
At the end of the day, the truth is that I wanted to get outside and watch my son ride his bike just as much as he wanted to ride it. In fact, if he had been able to complete the assignments without any issues, I might have let him have a few issues.
But clearly he needed a lesson that day, and I couldn’t deprive him of it without feeling guilty.
Did refusing to engage with my son until the assignment was completed damage my relationship with him?
Temporarily? Of course.
Permanently? Hopefully not. But maybe.
Childrearing –I mean, old-fashioned Childrearing(no qualifiers) is not about building a relationship with me, it is about cultivating my ability to build relationships with others and teaching me stewardship of the talents and resources I have been blessed with.
To put myself and my children’s desire to “feel good,” as Gentle Parenting encourages parents to do, at the center of that enterprise is to deceive them—to respect the outcome they (and I) might want in the moment, and to rob them of the focus, grit, and discipline they need for their own optimal development.
How do my husband and I know this? Because we know and love the people who raised us tough and ruthless so that we could do the same with our children.
When I was six years old, I would cry every night for a month when my dad would make me read chapter books he picked out for me. If I read a sentence with the wrong punctuation or expression, I would have to start over from the beginning. I hated reading at that time. I also dreaded my dad coming home.
When my husband was a child, if he made a mistake or did not do a chore properly, he had to repeat it until his mother was satisfied. At that time, my husband wanted to get away from his mother as soon as possible. He thought that he would never clean his own house.
Of course, we each grew up imperfect — we each had skills we didn’t have and things we didn’t know until we reached adulthood — and we are and always will be deeply imperfect.
But we at least learned as children that the only way to get out of a task we fear or are anxious about in one, if not several, aspects is to do it well. Our ability to accept the uncompromising direction of others, to weather our own fatigue and resistance, and to put both in proper perspective has served us well, especially as unkind parents.
When my sons were each in first grade, I put them through the same reading comprehension lessons that my dad taught me—we even used the same novels. My husband now oversees some of our sons’ household chores, with the same expectations that his mother-in-law bequeathed to him, and using the same methods that she preferred.
Our parents were not kind because they were parents, and that is why we not only love them, but also learn from them.
So when that math worksheet was finally completed and correct, my son and I talked for a while. How much he hated that homework. How much I hated that kind of homework when I was his age, just like him. How much life involves doing the things we hate as efficiently as possible in order to do the things we want to do and take care of our loved ones. How the quickest way to “avoid” something we hate is almost always to “go through” it.
In order to be a refuge from unrelenting standards and expectations, I must first expose them to those same standards and expectations. That is what I want and intend to be for my sons as they grow up.
Of course I care about how my sons feel, and I care about the way they live, cope, andServingIt’s not, it shouldn’t be, it can’t be, in the wider world.
That’s why my son and I talked about that summer when he couldn’t ride his bike, and how sad it had been for us both that he’d lost all that bike-riding time he craved so much. And I told him that it was entirely his own fault that he’d lost that time. He’d decided to test his own strong will against his parents’ will. And he’d lost.
My husband and I hope, pray and above all resolve that he will always do so.
When he grows up, God willing, he will be ready to teach his children the same counter-cultural and valuable lessons, rather than pandering to self-satisfied trends and then robbing them of their fruits, as so many so-called “good parents” do today.
