True Parent-School Partnership

“Ow-wow,” I said, bending over. My 2-year-old paused in her perambulation about the room, and the administrative assistant looked over at me with concern. I smiled weakly. “Whoops, I was a little careless with that one–good thing I’m not a guy!” The assistant took over folding up the last table, and together we wheeled it to the cafeteria. I was then free to pick up my backpack from the principal’s office and go home to a late lunch.

I’d been helping out at the charter school two of my kids attend. It is a small school which emphasizes partnership between parents and teachers, in fact as well as in theory; there is a great deal of communication, and the staff are transparent about what is being taught, which does not involve genderqueer or critical race theory. The facilities are not as impressive as those of the surrounding schools; the school does not have its own dedicated gym or cafeteria, a central space in the school serving as those facilities, and parents are asked to volunteer their time as they’re able.

Time and space constraints mean that the lunchtime operation must be efficient. At 10:50, the kindergarten class finishes P.E. in the space, at which time the principal, assistant, janitor, and two parent helpers start rolling out and unfolding tables. Kindergarten starts lunch at 11:00, and each succeeding grade comes out 5 minutes later than the last. The aforementioned adults don rubber gloves and walk around with trashcans, fetching water or utensils or helping open packages as needed, as well as correcting behavior or chatting with the kids. While all of the students are present, the principal stops picking up trash, holds up his hand for silence, and awards the school mascot to the table that is behaving the best. Kindergarten leaves first, at which point the tables they have used are wiped and folded. As the other grades leave, their tables are also wiped and folded, and the floor is swept by the janitor. Everything is tidied up before 12:00.

I think this system is great. The principal serves alongside the “lowly” employees and alongside the parents, who start to recognize faces (unless they’re face-blind, like I am). The kids are encouraged to respect the people cleaning up after them and to get to know their leadership and fellow students’ parents. Few relationships grow so naturally and strongly as those nurtured by consistent contact and service, which is why parenting day-to-day is so much more important than providing spectacular occasional treats. In working together every day, the parents and staff demonstrate to the children mutual alliance and concern for the children’s wellbeing. The principal is an authority figure, but is quite literally hands-on and accessible–anyone can raise his hand to talk to him during lunch.

The 2-year-old loves “helping” at lunch. She sits with one of her siblings and eats for most of the time, but she also enjoys pushing around the trashcan and wiping down benches. It is a treat for her siblings to eat with her, and everybody in the school thinks 2-year-olds are cute. I pay special care to ensure that her presence does not mean that we are adding to the burdens of the other adults, rather than relieving them; for several months, I could not volunteer until I was sure she would behave herself.

My involvement with the school is not limited to lunchtime help. I am the parent sponsor of the school’s new chess club, the teacher sponsor being my kindergarten child’s teacher. (I’m a really rotten player, but no one is good enough for that to matter.) I see my kids’ teachers every day as I walk to get them from the entrance, and we spend a lot of after-school time playing on the playground. I am very comfortable sending messages to or chatting with the teachers if there’s a concern, and when my toddler’s a bit older I plan to chaperone field trips. I know the staff, and I trust them to keep safe and educate my children. When one of them is having a problem, they look out for my child. If something changes, I will know it.

Now, the kind of intimacy I’m describing is nearly impossible to develop in a large school, however good it is. I’ve had very good relationships with my kids’ teachers at our local school, and they’ve always been excellent at making us aware of what is being taught and what is going on with our children. The library is nicer than at the charter school, and the art and music teachers are excellent. Nevertheless, it is very difficult to get to know the teachers well without regular contact, and it simply isn’t feasible for the principal of a 700-student school to help with lunch. She’s out at the car line every day and responds readily to email, and that’s about as much as we can expect.

Some absolutely insane changes are occurring in public education–including in my own school district. We may yet have to pull our children from the system. Right now, however, they are in a good place, and doing well. I’m happy we had the choice to place them in this school, which honors parents–and puts them to work.

Put ‘Em to Work

Ah, the sound of a vacuum not being run by me–how beautiful child labor is!

Okay, okay, I don’t approve of child labor as defined by the fount of all knowledge, Wikipedia: “the exploitation of children through any form of work that deprives them of their childhood, interferes with their ability to attend regular school, and is mentally, physically, socially and morally harmful.”

But like so many phrases designed to evoke emotion, “child labor” can be defined and redefined to suit a narrative or perspective. Thus, we have outrage from USA Today over Republicans seeking to allow 14-year-olds to work in restaurants and industry, in an article that argues teen work is bad and schooling is good. Like so many other issues (such as parental rights), the left is not merely seeking to limit abuses of a particular practice or stance, but to argue that this stance is wrong. Teens shouldn’t be working for money!

I disagree. I babysat since I was 11 and worked as a server from age 14 on. I found work a very useful, educational experience, and I loved being able to earn my own money–far more than my family could afford to give me. My family was supportive and drove me to jobs, never pressured me to work more or less, and didn’t require a percentage of my earnings (though one of my brothers did steal money from me). Some jobs sucked. That was also a useful experience, and since no one was dependent on my income I was able to make the decision as to whether to continue in the sucky job. Work never interfered with my schooling, caused me any sort of injury, or affected my mental health (except for the scare I got when my brother took out a gun and threatened a bicyclist while driving me home from a babysitting job).

My husband and I make our kids do chores–not too many chores, probably too few, but at least they’re responsible for a few household duties. Even the 2-year-old “helps.” We also recruit the three older kids to plant, weed, water, and harvest the garden whose produce we all enjoy, and we support some of their entrepreneurial activities (yes you may create a lemonade stand; no you may not sell all of your toys). This is, obviously, a far cry from working 15-20 hours a week at Mickey D’s, but provided that we believe our kids can handle it we will allow them to get jobs as teenagers. Learning how to work under employers, seeing the financial rewards of a paycheck, and getting a little firsthand experience of taxes is a good thing, and we hope this will help them on their road to independence.

Allowing children to work does cut into the “living wage” movement, since teenagers are generally not expected to provide for their families. “Living wage” is another phrase that sounds fine–don’t you WANT that struggling single mother to be able to pay for rent, food, and clothing?–but translates into unintended consequences such as inflation and the replacement of workers with machines. I don’t think it’s inherently immoral or exploitative to pay kids low wages, provided those kids are truly free to agree to work or not. Capitalism is the voluntary exchange of labor and goods, after all.

Now, I don’t want to remove all legal protections from children–they are easily exploited, and I don’t think we want to return to the days of 8-year-olds getting their hands mangled by machines while working 12 hours a day. Children who immigrate illegally or under a “sponsor” system are at particular risk, which is one of many reasons that our country really has to get its act together in properly regulating immigration. Parents who abuse their children by forcing them to work long hours or perform dangerous jobs must be held accountable. Again, however, these are abuses of what is basically a good thing: Children growing in ability and strength, putting their capabilities to use in a way that benefits them and the community, under the eyes of those who love them and are responsible for them.

Indeed, if we’re going to talk about exploitation, I would argue that young adults who have never dipped a toe into the working world are less likely to be conversant with reasonable expectations, knowledge of what constitutes a toxic work environment, and how to succeed than are young adults who have already gained some working experience. If a child under my roof works for an abusive manager, her dad and I can tell her what she should and should not put up with, and we can force her to quit if we believe the situation is harming her. When she finishes her formal schooling, she will not only have some work experience on her resume, but also a sense as to what she ought to expect from her employer and what her employer will expect from her.

I’ve been trying to resist the temptation to resort to that cliché, “Kids These Days Are Being Infantilized.” Well, I just failed–kids these days are being infantilized. The “Little House on the Prairie” books are idealized fictional portraits of pioneer life, but I doubt that Wilder is inventing wholesale falsehoods when she describes how children help their parents and even do paid work (Laura is paid to sew and to teach as a young teenager). Almanzo is expected to work on his family’s farm, but when he’s 17 or so his father allows him to farm for himself. Work is not always a pleasant experience–Laura hates sewing, and she is put into a very uncomfortable, borderline dangerous situation when she must board with the Brewster family at her first school–but she comes through and finds some of her teaching to be pleasant, not to mention the thrill of being able to earn money to help send her sister Mary to a school for the blind.

Today, however, we have people arguing that adults ought not be held responsible for their crimes until age 25, because the brain isn’t fully matured. Sex as fine, as long as it’s not with someone older; substance use isn’t really anything to get worked up about. Work, however? Expectations of being a productive member of society? Dreadful!

We do not, of course, live in a pioneer society. Our kids’ developmental course is and should be different, to prepare them for a 21st-century life rather than a 19th–20th-century one. That said, it seems to me that work is good for children, in the way that accomplishment generally is good for children; it helps cultivate their self-respect, grow their confidence in a natural way (as opposed to constant affirmations), and keep them out of trouble.

I do not want to glorify childhood work as some sort of panacea that will fix our kids’ increasing mental health problems and restore the United States to a glorious beacon of liberty and prosperity–but neither do I want it to be stamped out. And in my own home, I intend to continue to put my kids to work. Hoy, guys, hurry up with that sweeping!

Thoughts on Weight

Obesity’s been in the news lately; people have responded, mostly critically, to the AAP’s new guidelines on childhood obesity. Some dislike the recommendation of surgery and medication for morbidly obese children, and others believe the guidelines will lead children to develop an eating disorder, and that we shouldn’t be encouraging weight loss. I have more sympathy with the first argument than with the others; undoubtedly, exercise and encouraging a healthy diet with lots of fruits and vegetables and few empty calories is better than surgery or medication. Even so, I wouldn’t rule out the possibility that a child might be better off with medication than with a BMI of 40 at the age of 13. I would also note that surgery and medication are only mentioned fairly far into the document, after recommendations of lifestyle and behavioral interventions; this isn’t quite like the AAP suggesting cross-sex hormones for youngsters.

I am willing to consider concerns about eating disorders in children as long as we start from the premise that it is unhealthy to be too fat, and that fat children are likely to become fat adults with all of their attendant health problems. There are healthy bodies of many different sizes and shapes, of course; BMI is a flawed metric of health; furthermore, it is quite normal for children to get a little fatter before a growth spurt, and for puberty to add girth. Beyond a certain weight, however, it’s difficult to argue against excess weight causing excess disease and death.

The problem for parents is that “beyond a certain weight” is difficult to determine, and we can do real damage by obsessing over every calorie taken in by our kids. (I do watch what my eldest eats, but that’s because of a health issue rather than concern about her perfectly healthy weight.) It’s also difficult when the kids are of varying body types, as all four of mine are. One is considered underweight, but has been checked out and is healthy; one is skinny-but-not-underweight; one is of average build; and one is stocky.

My husband and I tend to focus on our kids’ habits, not their weight. Are you eating fruits, vegetables, and lean proteins? Those chips are tasty, but you can’t eat more than this amount–they’re highly-processed foods with lots of salt and fat and few nutrients. Yes, this dessert is fine; no, you can’t have more. Are you drinking plenty of water? Have you run around outside today? Make sure you get plenty of sleep. Oh, you’re hungry? Help yourself to a fruit or veggie. Yeah, the fiber in this oatmeal is good for you. So far, this approach seems to be working, but since the kids are all fairly young it’s impossible to tell what their longterm habits and development will be.

One area where my husband and I differ from the prevailing wisdom is that we talk about weight. We have, of course, taught our children not to make loud comments along the lines of “Mommy, why is she soooo fat” (or indeed, about others’ appearances in general), and we never criticize our kids’ weights, but we do talk about how limiting obesity can be. We also discuss in the kids’ hearing our own assessment of our weight; when my daughter asked why I worry about gaining too much weight, I made no bones about telling her that at my age, I don’t need as many calories, and since I’m not growing I don’t want to collect too much fat since that would be unhealthy for me.

Will this give my daughter an eating disorder? I doubt it. I’m telling her true things, I’m not making a big deal about it, and I don’t starve myself or treat certain categories of foods as “bad.” It is a simple fact that life in the United States has become more sedentary even than when I was a child, and that high-calorie, low-nutrient food is everywhere. The way to help our kids navigate food and exercise is not, it seems to me, to ignore body size, or to pretend that obesity isn’t a growing problem. It is also not to insist that children will magically “self-regulate” the amount of candy or chips that they take in; given a chance, most children will gorge themselves to the point of sickness on their preferred junk food. (There, I said it–junk food! Another bad word these days!)

That said, I reject shaming people for their size, or for taking the elevator instead of the stairs. There are many health disorders and treatments that lead to weight gain, it can be very hard to lose weight as one becomes older or injured, and it is wrong to equate body shape with morality. It’s just plain nasty to judge people, especially when you know nothing or very little of their circumstances. Children are especially vulnerable to teasing and shaming, and so we should always be kind to them.

We should enjoy our food. “Behold, what I have seen to be good and fitting is to eat and drink and find enjoyment in all the toil with which one toils under the sun the few days of his life that God has given him, for this is his lot.” (Ecclesiastes 5:8) But any good pleasure is to be partaken of with moderation and self-control, not enslaving ourselves to fleshly pleasures (Philippians 3:19), and since our “toil” these days is physically less onerous we’ve got to choose to move more. None of this is particularly surprising or insightful advice, of course, and I am no nutritionist; but it is a little surprising to me that the discourse around obesity seems to settle into a false dichotomy of “fat people are disgusting” and “there is absolutely nothing wrong with being fat”–or maybe a “trichotomy,” the third category being “fat people are victims and should be treated as such.”

P.S. I rejected many titles for this post, including “Weighty Considerations.” You’re welcome, gentle reader.

Acceptable Great Authors

Many news outlets have reported on the outrageous tampering with Roald Dahl’s works, which have been “edited” for “sensitivity.” There is nothing good to be said for this abominable deed, as has been pointed out. I think the change that ticked me off the most, and the occasion for this short post, is this edit from Matilda:

“She went on olden-day sailing ships with Joseph Conrad. She went to Africa with Ernest Hemingway and to India with Rudyard Kipling” becomes

“She went to nineteenth century estates with Jane Austen. She went to Africa with Ernest Hemingway and California with John Steinbeck.”

Some arrogant jerk(s) at Puffin decided that he/she/it/they is going to correct the literature recommended by one of the 20th century’s greatest children’s authors (and a fine writer of adult fiction), too. Conrad is “problematic.” Well, he did write an entire novel with the n-word in the title, and Chinua Achebe wasn’t a fan; Kipling, of course, is a Bad, Evil Imperialist. Also, not a single woman was mentioned in that list of three classic authors–what a good thing some wise editor decided to remedy that dreadful omission! I really do not see why some authors of color couldn’t have been included; perhaps we could swap out Ernest Hemingway with Langston Hughes?

For the record, I love Jane Austen’s books. Steinbeck is enjoyable. I’m not really a fan of Hemingway, and I find Conrad a bit dense to get through. Kipling is fun, but he isn’t one of my favorite authors. But the point of this whole paragraph is that Matilda, whose world is highly restricted both geographically and culturally (her parents being narrow-minded idiots who wouldn’t consider picking up a book), is taken out of herself and experiences new thoughts, places, ideas, and people. But now the ideal is to have our heads so far up our backside that we cannot take them out to observe anything that may offend us or challenge us; only “approved” texts must be promoted.

I’m not worried about Dahl. No one seems to support this hatchet job, and I think the originals will be republished before we run out of used copies of his books. I’m not worried about Conrad or Kipling, either, who continue to be read and will outlast the sensitivity editors. But that a major publisher with control of a great author’s work is so blatantly misusing it is no good sign for our culture and our future.

School Choice

It shouldn’t be controversial: Parents are responsible for seeing to it that their kids are educated, and they must decide how best to fulfill this responsibility. School personnel shuttling off children for abortions or secretively encouraging them to “identify” as the opposite sex are wrong. Teachers attempting to undermine parents’ authority and values are wrong. Parents choosing to homeschool, or to send their children to private schools or microschools or whatever, should be supported and not treated with suspicion.

“But what about abusive parents?” They exist. They must be stopped. Parental authority does not allow parents to torture, abuse, or neglect their children. But it is also worthwhile to ask what is “abusive”; teaching children that the Bible or the Quran is true is considered by some to be abusive. I believe that the Bible, not the Quran, is true, and I’d love for Muslims to convert to Christianity, but I would not consider a devout Muslim parent to be abusive simply for teaching the tenets of his faith. Further, a lot of lousy parenting is not bad enough to merit the use of the a-word, which can be stretched beyond all useful meaning and used to justify intervention when some other entity disagrees with the parent’s decisions.

Humans are sinners. The institutions they create will never be perfect, and the solutions they reach will have drawbacks. We should always consider these drawbacks and attempt to minimize harm, carefully, without causing more harm in our attempt to remedy the situation.

I’ve been considering this as the “school choice” movement strengthens, along with its rallying cry “Fund the kids, not the schools,” meaning that parents should be given the tax dollars that currently can be spent only on public schools; this money can then go to fund the parents’ choice of educational method for their children. This is a good movement. I wholeheartedly approve of parents being given more options to educate their children. Schools are there to serve the students, not the other way around, and it is a good public investment to support parents’ choices of schools by allowing tax dollars to be applied to homeschooling or private schools. However, there will be problems, and we should consider these as well.

The first issue is price inflation. Widespread government subsidies of private schools are likely to drive up the cost of private schools. Vouchers for kids from poor families seem like a no-brainer, and it’s difficult for me to believe that anyone bemoaning the way the system fails poor children wouldn’t support a means for them to escape dangerous, ineffective schools. Nevertheless, a look at the way college costs have escalated makes me very nervous that the same thing may happen to K-12 schools if parents are given budgets.

Another problem has probably already occurred to anyone who’s dealt with confusing tax issues, or trying to work out government-subsidized health insurance, or any other instance in which the government gives money to people. It’s a big, complicated bureaucracy prone to screwups, and a great deal of money is wasted in inefficient operation and inappropriate allocation of funds. How’d those COVID handouts for business go? Anyone think that the government is going to learn from its mistakes and–oh, I can’t even finish that sentence. Millions of dollars will be denied families who ought to have it, and be given to fakers and fraudsters.

We also know that government money comes with strings. Oh, you aren’t affirming your child’s new pronouns? You want to send them to a school that teaches that marriage is between one man and one woman? That’s a violation of federal principles; we can’t possibly fund that.

Finally, there are some terrible parents out there who will take money intended for their children’s education and use it to buy drugs, or Louis Vuitton gear, or something else. It happens, and it’s very difficult to implement a measure that prevents abuse while not creating endless hoops for families to jump through.

None of this means that the system doesn’t need to change, radically. In some districts, it’s hard to see how schools could do worse than they already do. Where’s the accountability for districts in which greater than 3/4 of the high school students read at elementary level? I’m a little tired of hearing that we need to give more money to schools that are serving their students so badly, then pointing to home factors as the big reason for their failure.

Oh, you mean parents are important to their children’s education? You don’t say.

Then let’s support them.

Eating the Occasional Foot Sandwich

Well, I insulted a woman at the hairdresser’s the other day. We were talking about how things have and have not changed since we were kids; I expressed the hope that kids might be nicer today, but mentioned the ubiquity of technology and social media that give more opportunities for bullying. I called to my 9-year-old, “Hey, honey! About how many people in your class already have phones?” She replied that just under half did. The woman looked embarrassed and admitted that her son, aged 9, already had his own phone. I did my best to change the subject, though she congratulated me and asked me how I managed without giving my kids a phone.

I hate coming across as judgmental of other parents’ choices. Of course, I am judgmental–not of every choice that is different than mine, but of a good many. I’m enough of a hypocrite and a people-pleaser that I want to hide this ugly quality; I’d rather be liked by others, even random acquaintances. Plenty of my choices would be opposed by others. (“You don’t buy organic! You had hospital births–with an epidural! You don’t have a job–what are you going to do if your husband leaves you or dies?”) I’m also sufficiently kind that I don’t want to shame others or make them feel bad (at least, not without a really good reason). Most of us are trying to do the best we can; none of us is walking in the shoes of those we meet; and even if I do sometimes privately think “They’re doing X? Bleah” I don’t actually believe that the parents doing “X” are bad parents. There is no “one way” to parenting, and parents should give each other a lot of grace when they encounter choices and methods different than their own. And for those few parents who make egregiously awful parenting choices, there is zero chance that they will listen to a random stranger tell them that they’re doing a crappy job. In such cases, it’s best not to interfere, unless there’s a safety issue.

When we meet other parents, it’s natural for us to try to find common ground. This has to be done cautiously, especially since many of those we meet are in a setting where we can’t guess what “tribes” they belong to. The woman at the playground could be a staunch vegan who uses only essential oils as medicines, a traditionalist Catholic, a religion-hating atheist who despises Republicans, etc. She could have several other children besides those visible; not be related to the children she’s watching; have had one or more miscarriages, stillbirths, or infant deaths; have been divorced or never married; and the list of potentially sensitive topics goes on.

We could all stick to discussing the weather. I do, sometimes. Nevertheless, in me and in many of the other parents (mostly mothers) at the library, the park, or the splash pad there’s a desire to connect, even in a “relationship” that is fleeting and shallow. This is not universally true; plenty of parents want to get their business done with their kids and not talk to the other adults in the area, but for those who do want to socialize we have to spend a good amount of time awkwardly looking for commonalities and seeking to avoid offense. So it goes in a society where most of the people most of us see are not our friends, relatives, or longtime neighbors.

Occasionally, these encounters lead to a new friendship. More often, they result in a pleasant conversation used to pass the time while our children climb the jungle gym or play with blocks or whatever. Sometimes they lead to unintentional insults, which I have given and received. Nevertheless, I think it’s valuable to practice our social skills with strangers in real life. Much attention has been (justly) given to young people’s lack of real-life connections as they spend more time immersed in the virtual world, but it is also a problem for adults who do, probably, own their own phones and who may be lonely, especially as they age. It is vitally necessary for us to have true community connections, whether through our families, churches, or friends, but even the gossamer ties we create when talking to strangers can be helpful.

Dear lady at the hairdresser’s–I apologize for implying that your tech choices for your kids are bad ones. It was not my place to make such a judgment, and I hope you’ll continue talking to strangers. Contrary to what our parents told us as children, it can be a worthwhile experience.

Cheat Codes for Parenting

Obviously, the title is clickbait. There’s no replacement for being there for your kid, moment by moment, day by day, meeting big needs and small needs and trying to raise a decent person while still staying sane. There are, however, a few easy(ish) things you can do to make a kid feel good:

give Treats

Well. Of course, a treat will perk anyone up, right? Not like that’s never occurred to parents! But I’d like to emphasize that a) a treat must be occasional, and b) it can be creative. A child fed on candy every day isn’t going to be especially overjoyed by a lollipop, but a child who rarely gets sweets will think that lollipop is awesome. Screens can be wonderful babysitters–I shall pause a moment while you finish throwing rocks–but only if they’re special by virtue of the rarity of their use. To me, the word “treat” implies a stretching of rules (so there must be rules), an unusual occurrence (so there must be routine), or a special item (so there must be restrictions on consumption). A child given no boundaries, rules, or routines who is handed everything he desires is a child who cannot be treated, which is sad.

I’d also note that “treats” aren’t limited to candy, screens, outings–taking the kid to a muddy puddle and helping them make a town can be a really memorable treat. Pulling out a book you loved as a child and reading it with them in a secret hiding place is a treat.

Be Happy to See Them

In the morning, I want to rip off the head of anybody I see and drink their blood. It’s not them, it’s me; I’m a misanthropic jerk for about an hour after I get up. I’ve learned not to express this to others, but with my kids I paste on a smile and cheerily greet them. I AM glad to see them after school, and I make sure to enthusiastically express this.

At least when they’re small, children adore their parents. Don’t you remember being a child and feeling that wonderful, warm gush of joy when you saw a parent? Didn’t it make you supremely happy when they smiled and acted like seeing you was the highlight of their life? It’s just a few minutes, and it can make a child feel secure and loved.

Shut Up (and Listen)

There’s a time for giving advice, admonishment, encouragement, etc. There are lots of times, in fact. But sometimes just being quiet and being there for your child can help him work through something, feel better, or even solve problems.

Furthermore, a child who’s acting up or showing some weird behavior is doing it for a reason. Sometimes that reason is “I dunno, it’s a phase, kids are weird,” but carefully watching and listening to your child can sometimes show you what’s going on in her head and point the way to helping her.

This is true even for very small children. Today, my toddler cried and fussed when I put her in her sleeper for her nap, and I figured that she was simply resisting naptime until I heard her say “Baby! Baby! Baby seep!” and realized that she wanted me to put her baby dolls in another sleeper. (We’d done this yesterday.) When I told her that I was going to put her in her sleeper first and then put the baby dolls in their sleeper, she calmed down and cooperated.

Make Something

Ever notice how making something with another person brings you closer together? My husband and I really need to get back to our custom of taking one day a month to make an expensive and elaborate meal together; not only do you have a nice end product, but it’s a wonderful in-house “date” that helps you be companionable. Our children, especially the older boy, love to help their father build things and fix things. The kids love our annual gingerbread house project, even though our houses are never going to wind up on the cover of a magazine. Painting together, making terrible clay sculptures together, gluing leaves to a paper together, anything that’s a shared experience in creating something is wonderful for making a child happy and pleased with his own competence.

Hug Them

For my kids, at least, a hug is the closest thing to a cure-all there is. Child’s feeling bad because a friend said something mean? Hug. Child’s antsy and acting up? Hug. Child’s sick? Hug. I know that not all children desire lots of touch, but for mine, hugs alleviate pain, improve mood, remove aggression, and calm twitchiness. That sentence sounds like I should be adding something like “These statements have not been evaluated by the FDA. This product is not intended to diagnose, treat, cure or prevent any disease,” but as natural remedies go, hugs are pretty good.

?

There’s something you know about your children that I don’t. There’s something small you do for your kids to make them happier that wouldn’t work for me with my kids. You are a student completing a degree in Your Child; it’s a years-long course and you never really graduate, but you do learn an awful lot along the way. Is it useful? To know how to make a child–your child–smile? Oh, yes. Really, there are few things more useful than that.

Parenting Without “No”

“No” is a good word. Your children need to hear it. They need boundaries, and they need to be denied things sometimes; the toddlers who really really want to play with the boxcutters, of course, but also the kids who want candy from the supermarket even though they’re getting cake later or the teens who want to have sleepovers at the house where the parents leave a stash of alcohol and then exit the premises. Denying children everything they desire, or making them wait for something they want, is good for their development.

I therefore felt immediately hostile to the headline in a Fatherly article, “Why I Try to Never Say “No” to My Kids.” “Terrible!” I thought. And then I thought, I bet this is clickbait, and the article is really not actually advocating against the word “no.” Dumb fish that I am, I clicked, and felt that both of my reactions were accurate, but also that the article was worth reading and considering.

Dr. Stacy Haynes, the subject of the article, tries to avoid the word “no” and all forms of punishment. Instead, she practices what she calls “preventative” parenting–anticipating a child’s wants or needs and trying to engineer the situation in such a way that the child will not have the desire or opportunity to transgress, and substituting for the word “no” phrases that emphasize the connection between parent and child. Here’s her example for what to do when a 2-year-old wants the remote control:

“Instead of the parent taking that two seconds to realize, “You know what, my two-year-old is going to be in this room. Let me remove that.” Or instead of using the word “No,” in that moment, I ask, “Well could you give me that? Thank you for handing that to me.””

It then transpires that in fact Dr. Haynes uses the word “no,” but only in restricted circumstances:

“I only use no if I mean it. Oftentimes, we say no, and we really mean “later.” That’s confusing for children. So if a kid says, “Hey, can I have a cookie?” and we say “no,” we just don’t want them to have it now. Don’t say no, because that’s all they hear. They melt down. They have temper tantrums.”

There are a few things in this article that I agree with. Phrasing instructions or answers in unambiguous terms is a good idea, as I’ve written; I also think that “problem solving” recurring conflicts with our children rather than retreating into defensiveness is helpful. Dr. Haynes is no permissive parent and molds her children’s behavior, relating that “When my kids were young, I would sit outside their bedroom because they’d have a hard time staying in bed. They’d come out and I’d walk them right back into bed.” Finally, I like that she wants children to come to solutions on their own as they grow, and I agree that parents should be helping children move towards this kind of independence.

What irked me, then, about Dr. Haynes’s methods is not the avoidance of “no” (which isn’t complete, anyway) but the intensiveness of the parent’s anticipation of everything to do with their kids. Talk about helicopter parenting! Imagine your average toddler–curious, active, limited linguistic command, essentially no self-control, impulsive, stubborn–all right, I’ll stop describing my youngest daughter now. There is a spectrum of ways to keep the toddler safe, and they range from the extreme of “childproof everything” to the extreme of “everything-proof the child.” On the one hand, you can not only do the usual childproofing (putting dangerous or fragile objects out of reach, using baby gates, covering outlets) but hover over your kid, anticipating their every reaction and carefully changing the situation so that there isn’t a possibility of conflict. On the other, you can childproof nothing and train the child not to touch anything without your permission, nor allow the child to protest at anything. Don’t like dinner? Too bad. Sit here until you eat it.

Most parents, of course, fall somewhere within these extremes, and I think there’s a wide band of strategies that are perfectly acceptable ways to keep the kid safe and developing well. As usual, there isn’t One Right Way to do things. To me, however, Dr. Haynes’s desire to avoid conflicts and negative reactions from the child appears excessive. It is also impossible to carry out fully, as children will wail because they asked for a blue sippy cup and you brought them a blue sippy cup. Not even a developmental psychologist can enter the mind of a 2-year-old or thereabouts.

More importantly, I think that long-term development relies on more than total conflict avoidance within the home, which can actually be detrimental to the child’s upbringing. Now, this article was conducted as an interview, and so it is certainly possible that some information was left out, but I would like to see more explanation of the following:

“When people say, “That’s not the real world,” it really is. Our employers are going to do the same thing. If you notice a problem or a difficulty, you sit down with your employee and discuss those concerns and come up with a solution that works for you and put those solutions into place.”

That is certainly part of the real world, but not all of it–there are going to be a lot of “no’s,” from colleges that issue rejection letters to people turning down favors to bosses who do not actually want to spend lots of time explaining why they said “no” to a request from an employee. “No is a complete sentence” is a popular saying, and adults operate within a world where they must sometimes accept it.

Also, children are not adults, and they need to be trained before they can be reasoned with. Dr. Haynes clearly understands this, as her walking-the-children-back-to-their-beds example shows, but she seems also to reject it in her quest to avoid negativity for her kids. A child throwing a fit about getting strapped into a car seat probably doesn’t really benefit from a 20-minute conversation about having her big feelings validated. Dr. Haynes is right that adults should understand that “[we] are taller, bigger, stronger, than a 2-year-old,” and we shouldn’t bully or frighten our children; sometimes, however, we need to use that advantage. We are our children’s parents, not their friends, and I heartily approve of the power imbalance between parents and children, though it can be misused to terrible effect.

One final point of disagreement: Dr. Haynes worries that children may internalize the feeling that they are “bad.” Well, they are bad. I am bad, too, and so are you. Now, there absolutely are wrong ways to absorb this message–“I am hopeless and nothing can be done” is harmful, and seeing a miserable child trying and failing to be “good” (i.e. perfect) is awful. Children with OCD who have recurring intrusive thoughts about their own badness need intervention. But there is great danger in making a child believe that they are good, too, because then what they wish is good because they are a good person. I do not believe this is true. I praise my kids, I point out when they do well, I am careful to check that they don’t believe that they’re unworthy of love or care; I understand that developmental stages mean that a three-year-old who lies is not doing the same thing as a thirty-three-year-old who lies. I also tell them that they’re sinners (as am I), and that they need Jesus (as do I).

Here I will probably lose readers who may have agreed with me up to this point, because at least some people consider the Christian view of all people as sinners to be wrong and child abuse when taught to a child. I can only say that a worldview of people as sinners (who are still capable, by God’s grace, of good and loving and wonderful actions) makes a lot more sense of history and experience than does a worldview that assumes people are basically good. And that is probably the most profound difference between Dr. Haynes and me.

Memories and Shadows on the Future

I found a few pages of my preteen diary. Yeesh. I’ll spare you (and myself) the ordeal of reading any of this document, which alternates between self-conscious, pretentious “literary” bits and speculation as to whether X boy likes Y girl. The latter surprised me, because my recollection is that I was oblivious to the existence of boys at that age, except as friends or enemies. But there it is–memory, as my Psych 101 professor said, is less like photography of the past, and more like the images of a kaleidoscope that you twist and change.

I find in that same diary, as well as other documents, notes about how awesome my mother is, and how close we were. Heidi was a sweet, loving girl, it seems, but it touches me rather painfully to read these things now, and not just from embarrassment. I went through a disillusionment of my mom and dad rather later than children usually do; instead of feeling terribly misunderstood and contemptuous of my parents in my teens, as I hear is common, I grew angry with my mom as a married adult with children. I even found out some unpleasant things about my dad that marred my otherwise golden memories of him and his influences upon others. (He was a wonderful, faithful husband, fantastic teacher, and marvelous father to me until he died when I was nine.)

I’ve written before about my mother’s parenting, and I hope it’s with a reasonably balanced, fair perspective. But memory is treacherous, current perceptions are treacherous, and there is nothing so difficult to tell as the truth about another, which is why the best examples tend to be outright lies (i.e. fiction). Certainly I now view the very same actions my mother took in a different way than I did as a child. The main causes of this divergence are, I think, distance in time and space from my mom; talking over my experiences with others; and having children, which put into focus rather sharply some ways in which I must not screw up with them.

Now I am a mother, too. My children hug and kiss me; they covet time with me. My younger son tells me dozens of times per day that I’m the best mommy in the world. My oldest tells me what a good mom I am, what a good job Daddy and I do. I love these things, I cherish them, and I am very happy to think that my kids are pleased with my parenting. At the same time–and I try not to let this shadow damage my pleasure–I know that their perspectives will change. I hope that when my kids are in their 20s, 30s, and beyond we will have good, healthy, loving, close relationships. They don’t need to call me up and tell me every day what a fantastic mother I am–God willing, they’ll have families and attachments of their own–but I hope that as adults they’ll conclude that, whatever their shortcomings, Mom and Dad were basically pretty decent.

The time I spend with my young children now I cannot ever get back. The actions I take are done, the words I speak are said; there are no alternate endings or do-overs. As part of that good, healthy, loving, close relationship I hope to have with my children, it is my desire that when they remember negative things about their childhood they share them with me, and I listen in a way that is open and not defensive. I have tentatively tried to talk to my mother about a few things that bothered me, but most I have not because it’s useless; although she used to ask me “Where did I go wrong?” she doesn’t actually want to hear it. She wants to hear that she tried her best, and that the universe conspired against her.

In a way, of course, she’s right. She did try her best, and how can I judge her shortcomings when they arise from the person she is? Should I pass judgment on a bird with a crippled wing because it can’t fly? I have compassion for her, and I recognize that she herself came from such a dysfunctional background that it’s really quite amazing that she did as well as she did. I know she loves me dearly and always will, and that is no small thing. I know that she did things for me that she would preferred not to have done, even if she did remind me that she was only doing them because she loved me.

But it still hurts reading my diary. It hurts looking at old emails and seeing how, when I went to college, I told her daily, in detail, about my life because I was close to her. Today, I don’t trust her with anything more than the weather and such edited highlights from my experiences that I think she can handle. (“Hiking? That sounds fun, but isn’t it dangerous?”) And I’m saddest of all that I like this distance, I feel free when I go for days without exchanging emails or calls. I don’t have the patience I ought to bear with her failings, and after literal decades of exhorting and encouraging her I just don’t want to bother anymore. I wish it were otherwise.

And I pray that it won’t be this way for me in the future.

In Defense of Paranoid Experts

I agree with the Prager U video, “Let Kids Be Kids.” In a nutshell, the video decries those experts who caution against letting kids do such dangerous things as play in sand, go barefoot, and go outside in the middle of the day in summer.

However, I do not disparage those experts’ research–just some of their recommendations. Parents should be aware of the dangers that accompany an activity, and should balance the risks with the benefits–but a proper risk-benefit analysis requires knowing about the risks. Parents let their children play in water, in spite of the fact that children are drowned every year, and in spite of nasty microbes like Naegleria fowleri. Parents let their kids jump on trampolines and use monkey bars in spite of being educated about the possibility of injury; I let my kids do these things even though one of them broke an arm on the monkey bars.

I understand why PragerU scoffs at overthinking normal kid activities. Playing in nature, climbing trees, swimming, biking, and roller skating are good for kids (by the way, I know a couple whose child died in a roller skating accident). Eschewing such activities carries risk, itself–risk that a child will not physically, socially, and mentally thrive. As I have said in a previous post, a duty of parents is to decide how we will harm our children–and that includes deciding which risks to expose them to.

But researchers or members of an academy are tackling problems from a limited viewpoint, as they must. It is not possible to write a research paper on “The Ideal Bringing-up of Every Child Ever.” An article or position paper addresses one or a few narrowly focused problems and (generally) offers solutions. Although most will try to contextualize their problem, an article that addresses the pathogen content of beaches is going to focus on how to prevent the harms caused by contaminated sand.

It is also, of course, well-known that experts disagree about many, many aspects of health. The age at which women ought to start receiving mammograms is debated, and it’s not exactly a shocker that the organization which recommends the earliest screening for women is the American College of Radiology, i.e. the people who use radiology to screen and treat patients.

This does not mean that nothing can ever be known or that we should stop listening to researchers; in fact, what it means is that we need to know more. So, digging in the sand? It is associated with an increase in stomach troubles–but not much of an increase; the incidence proportion ratio is above 1 (meaning that people who played in the sand had more illness than people who did not), but not very much above 1 (meaning that the difference wasn’t terribly large). This is not even considering the study’s flaws, and every study will have flaws. If we were to take this article as the very last word on sand and gastrointestinal illnesses, which of course we would not, it still does not provide a very compelling reason for us parents to scream “NO, Ashelygh! Stop digging!” at the beach.

Stuff like drowning and skin cancer is much more serious. But like other serious risks–driving children in cars, for instance–a rational response is not to try to prevent any possibility of harm from the activity, but to mitigate it; in the case of cars, by driving sensibly, keeping the car maintained, and using appropriate restraining devices; in the case of skin cancer, by using sunscreen and protective hats or other clothing; and in the case of drowning, by appropriate supervision, training, and skill development.

It is worthwhile, by the way, to note that not every risk is the same for every child. A white ginger needs to be more careful about sun damage than does a black-skinned person. By age group, babies and toddlers are most likely to drown, followed closely by older teenagers. A child with autism or other developmental problems is likelier to drown than a neurotypical child. Most importantly, all parents know–or should know–their own child’s abilities and vulnerabilities better than anyone else. This is why they get to decide which risks their children will take and which safety measures will be used.

Naturally, parents screw up. Sometimes the screwup is fatal. We may not have much sympathy for a parent who leaves her 6-month-old in the bathtub alone for 15 minutes to paint her nails, but I don’t believe we should automatically castigate a parent who found out that his child was a lot better at climbing up to medicine cabinets than he believed, and I do not approve of prosecuting parents for accidentally leaving their kids in the car. I have had some close calls, and I thank God that none has resulted in a fatality. Nevertheless, I believe that my husband and I are best qualified to assess the risks of any given situation–in other words, that we ought to be bringing up our own kids. We’ll listen to experts, we’ll observe other families, we’ll hear advice from more experienced parents, but the responsibility for bringing up our children falls squarely upon us.