A short conversation at bedtime

Allison familyphotos 0614 065

R: Why is it called a dresser?

Me: I don’t know.

R: If it is called a dresser, it should have dresses. *starts laughing*

Me. Yup.

R: And if it has shirts it should be a shirter, and if it has pants it should be a panter, and if it has socks it should be a socker…

Me: *changing diaper* Mm-hmm.

R: …and if it has shoes it should be a shoer, and if it has sweaters it should be a sweaterer, and if it has swimsuits it should be a swimsuiter…

Children are nothing if not creative.

“‘Give,’ Said the Little Stream” and chores

“‘Give,’ Said the Little Stream” is one of my favorite primary songs. In the back of my mind I have this thought that my mom doesn’t like it, but I don’t remember why. Regardless, I love the simple way that it teaches important principles, in particular the idea that you should make your surroundings better.

I’ve been thinking about it because it connects to a conversation I had with Bonnie a few days ago about chores. Philosophically I’m having some issues with chores the way I usually see them implemented. Frequently people give their child a responsibility which they have to take care of at a specified time (i.e. clean the kitchen on Saturdays).

Here’s my issue: I worry that it might encourage a sense that once you’ve done your chores then you’re done with helping out around the house. Or more broadly, once you take care of yourself then your job is done. I can remember lots of times as a kid when one sibling or another was still working on their Saturday job while the others were already done. There was never any inclination (at least on my part) to help that person out with their job. I’m admittedly not the most compassionate person, but even my siblings who are nicer than me (all of them) didn’t usually help that I can remember.

I’d rather that my kids develop a habit of always helping out with everything. If there are dirty dishes, then we all do them, since we’re all part of the family and we all try to contribute. When we’re cleaning the house, I rather that we all just clean until it’s done. Like in the song, I think the kids should adopt an attitude of “wherever I go the grass grows greener still.”

On the other hand, I also want them to learn to take care of their own responsibilities and not be a burden on others. I think traditional chores actually do a decent job of giving kids a sense of responsibility and a sense of taking care of a job. The two ideas compete with each other a little bit. Is it better to teach a kid about their independence or their interdependence? I’m leaning toward the latter, but most people I know seem to (most likely unconsciously) choose the former.

Bonnie suggested that instead of specific responsibilities we just have everyone work for a certain amount of time. I think that’s moving in the right direction, but I worry that it just substitutes one problem for another. Instead of feeling “done” when you finish your room, you’ll just feel “done” when the timer runs out.

Clearly I don’t have any right answers, but I’m really interested in developing this habit in my kids (and myself to be honest–I could probably walk into the house and step over a dead body and not notice or think twice if I didn’t put it there). How do you teach someone to just be aware of their surroundings and to act to improve them without being asked? That habit has a much broader application than just simple chores, and I’d really love for my kids to learn it. Any suggestions, O wise internet people?

If You Build It, They Will Come

IMG_20140822_142236085_HDR

Here’s the front view, where you can see the slide and the rock wall.

Since I don’t have school or work right at this moment, I’m (usually) happy when I get some sort of project. Bonnie’s Mom bought a huge swing set for the kids, and I got to put it together (along with Sterling, Clark, and Christian – Steven was a slacker). The directions said that it would take 4-6 hours, but after finishing it up earlier this week, I think it may have been a typo. 46 hours would be more accurate. It’s also possible that I’m just really slow and not as handy as I’d like to think.

IMG_20140822_142256238_HDR

Here’s the little picnic area underneath the main structure.

Sterling and I worked on it all morning and part of the afternoon Saturday. Then he wasn’t feeling well so I did it myself for a while. Then Christian and Clark helped out for a while in the evening. Even with all of that work, it didn’t get finished until I went out for a few more hours on Monday.

IMG_20140822_142324012

Here is the back corner with the rope ladder to nowhere. Seriously, you can’t get into the top by climbing the ladder.

It was a pain to put together, but it’s an impressive structure. L and R can go out and play in the backyard with minimal supervision now, which is a huge blessing, and it’s just fun to look outside and see something that I assembled. Who needs to go to the park anymore, right?

Remote Misses, Eustress, and My Kids

Full Disclosure: This is an affiliate link to Amazon. But it’s an awesome book and totally worth your time to read.

On our drive out to Utah, Bonnie read aloud to me some of the time. The book we read was Malcolm Gladwell’s David and Goliath. It’s a thought-provoking book that explores why people or groups often succeed in the face of seemingly insurmountable problems. In particular, he looks at how things that at first glance are disadvantages can become tremendous strengths.

There is a web of related concepts from the book that I’ve been thinking about. For instance, he introduces the idea of “near misses” and “remote misses.” (Much of this next section is me paraphrasing and summarizing from Ch. 5) This terminology comes from the work of J. T. MacCurdy, who studied the psychological effects of the London bombings during WWII. In particular, MacCurdy was trying to figure out why the bombings didn’t cause mass panic and hysteria, but were instead met with an indomitable resolve among the British.

He theorized that when a bomb falls, it divides people into three groups: casualties, near misses, and remote misses.

Casualties got hit. They don’t really affect morale because morale “depends on the reaction of the survivors.”

Near misses feel the blast, they see the devastation, they might even be injured. For them the blast is a deeply traumatic event. Their morale is very low.

Remote misses have the opposite experience. For them, the bomb hits some distance away, so they hear sirens and maybe even hear some explosions, but they aren’t really confronted first-hand with the devastation. After experiencing several remote misses, they get a feeling of invincibility. On some level, after a person emerges unscathed from the experience of their worst fear, nothing else seems so bad.

Gladwell ties all of this discussion into the idea of “desirable difficulty.” Essentially, not all difficulties are bad. They can act to make us stronger, better people as we overcome or compensate for them.

To use an example from my own life, I was cast in one of the lead roles of the high school version of Les Miserables when I was 18. It was the summer after my senior year, and I had never done a stage show in my life. I had never even taken an acting class. The director would say things like “take a few steps upstage” (an incredibly simple stage direction) and I would frantically look over at my friend who would point to where she wanted me to go. I just had no idea what I was doing. However, by the end of that experience, I had gotten a nice crash course in basic stagecraft that was incredibly useful to me during my degree in vocal performance. The experience was very hard at the beginning but it offered me to opportunity to experience tremendous growth.
The ideas that Gladwell discusses remind me of some of the psychology and physiology classes that I’ve taken. There’s a concept that comes up called “eustress.” Basically, it means stress that is good or beneficial, as opposed to “distress,” which encompasses all of the negative effects of stress.

The source of the stress can be anything, it’s the response to the stress that matters. Do you perceive the stress as something positive or something negative? A difficult challenge, or a dangerous threat? Deadlines are a good example of a stressor that can cause either eustress or distress. For me, a looming deadline is usually a huge boon to productivity, but there have been a few times where I’ve been totally overwhelmed, and that deadline has caused paralyzing worry and fear.

I use these ideas when I’m teaching voice a lot. I think Gladwell touched on this in his book, but that’s not where I first encountered it. Basically, if you imagine your mental state as a continuum with boredom at one end and feeling overwhelmed at the other end, then you want to try to keep students in the middle so they’re challenged but not overwhelmed. If you can keep your students in that zone, they’ll enjoy themselves and learn a lot too. If you go too far to either end, then both learning and enjoyment take a nose-dive.

Returning to Gladwell’s book, he has a long section about children who have lost their parents-fairly pertinent reading for Bonnie and me right now. He cites a variety of studies which suggest that a strikingly disproportionate number of extremely successful people lost one or both parents in their youth and childhood. In that same vein though, a striking number of convicts also lost one or both parents early on in their lives.

So after reading and thinking about all of this, I am left with several unanswered questions. If my kids lose their mother, what do I do to help them emerge from that difficultly as stronger, better individuals? I don’t think you can reasonably call the death of a parent a desirable difficulty, but there must be some way for something good to come out of all of this. I like the analogy of the near misses and remote misses, but this is different. It’s like trying to turn a casualty into a remote miss. How do you do that? How do you pull your kids out of the path of an incoming bomb? How do you patch them up once they’ve been hit? These are the questions that actually matter, and I have no idea how to answer them.

I think L needs sensitivity training…

IMG_1251Whenever I hear the phrase “sensitivity training,” I think of an old ad campaign for Reebok. Do any of you remember “Terry Tate, office linebacker?” He would run around tackling people for doing annoying things at the office. In one episode he gets in trouble for what he says to a guy and has to go to a ridiculous sensitivity training.

If our family were run like a business, L would spend her life talking to HR. Being a four-year-old, she doesn’t really have a filter on what she says, so in the last few months there have been a slew of awkward and insensitive questions and comments.

With me, she tends to stick to unkind comments about my weight:

“Dad’s fat, Mom’s thin, I’m little.”

“Dad, don’t eat all of those or you’ll get really fat.”

I’m not even fat or anything. I have maybe a little paunch, but I’m not fat. Of course, my weight isn’t the only part of my appearance which falls under her merciless gaze:

“Don’t put that on! You’ll break it because your head is way too big!”

…Thanks for dredging up my childhood insecurities honey.

Bonnie is not immune to this. In her case L usually leaves her appearance alone, but I’m not sure that’s a good thing.

“Dad, you’re smart right?” “Sure.” “But Mom’s not smart though, right?”

“Here Mom,” *hands her a stick* “It’s a present for you before you die.”

Anyone have a good response to that? Because I don’t know what etiquette demands for the “here’s a little something for you until you die” kind of present.

Friends and neighbors aren’t immune to the questions and observations either. We had a couple over for dinner who didn’t have any children. I don’t know if it’s by choice or not, but I prefer not to ask. L, on the other hand, piped up almost immediately with “do you have a baby in your tummy?”

Even strangers are often impaled by the queries of my child. When we were out on a walk, we were passed by a Native American guy with long hair. L piped up, “Is that a boy or a girl?”

“It’s a boy, L.”

“But why does he have long hair like a princess?”

Why indeed.