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blog by GREG MCCRACKEN listed in categories: Family Life

You never know how what you do with your child is going to influence him or her. As a teacher, parents often ask me, “What should I do when my child (fill in blank here)? How should I handle (fill in blank)?” Unfortunately, my answer is never very satisfactory – I tell them no matter what you do, you never know how it is actually going to be understood by your kids, what they’re going to do with what you’ve taught them, and how it’s going to affect their lives, no matter how well intentioned you are.

I always tell this story from my own life to illustrate: When my children were young, my wife and I made very definite plans about how we wanted to teach them to do certain mundane tasks that we had hated doing as kids, and, consequently, are deeply troubled with as adults. You know, those things like washing the dishes, taking out the trash, or completing Saturday housecleaning that we all have to accomplish to live some semblance of an organized life. Our parents, wonderful though they are, largely shouted at us to get our rooms clean, bribed us to do Saturday cleaning, and used whatever means possible to get us to take out the trash.

My wife and I decided that we would be different. We thought, hey, how can we make this enjoyable for our kids? How can we teach them that chores can be fun, that they can be satisfying, that they can be, dare we dream so high, fulfilling?

We came up with a plan. We would start with Saturday cleaning. We would teach our children to love Saturday cleaning. We would teach them to look forward to it. It didn’t have to be the grind that we had learned it was. It was all in how we taught them.

So, our plan, which we stayed up many a night plotting, went something like this – we would make it enjoyable by doing all the things our parents didn’t. We would start the day with a special breakfast, perhaps croissants with butter and jam, then, we would casually put on some music, something that both we and the kids liked – Rickie Lee Jones or Joni Mitchell, with some Kinks mixed in to pick up the energy when we flagged. The kids love the Kinks. We decided we would work with our kids, teaching them rather than ordering them around, making the whole experience a family experience, in direct contrast to our own childhoods, when we were tossed into a room and told to get it spick and span, or else.

And you know what? Our plan worked! The kids helped us with the most menial of tasks, and never, or only rarely, showed any negativity about the chores that had to be done. Eureka, we thought, we have taken a quantum leap in parenting – we felt like geniuses! We bragged to our parents – look what we’ve done! Our children are happy. We didn’t have to bribe, coerce or get demanding with them. We were smart; we worked with them, not against them.

Or so we thought. Fast forward to a conversation I overheard my oldest son Ian having with some high school friends one evening while they were all sitting around our kitchen table. Ian was now 16, ten years past our very careful teaching, and a wonderful guy, but what he said caused me to rethink my entire role as a parent. As they were making plans for the following day, one of Ian’s friends lamented that Sunday was “cleaning day” at her house, and that she would have to stay home and listen to the sappy music her parents played as they bounced cheerfully around the house making conversation with her and her brother as they “cleaned” (the quotation marks were indicated by her very own fingers.)

Ian laughed. By the sound of his voice, I’m sure he had a look of utter sympathy on his face. “Oh, I know. My parents used to play music and stuff when we did our Saturday morning cleaning. It was awful. I can’t stand to listen to Rickie Lee Jones to this day.” And then he laughed again. They all laughed.

We had tried so hard. We had thought it out, we had been sensitive to their needs, we had bought croissants, we had made it fun. Or so we thought. Ian hated Saturday cleaning. I checked with Ian’s younger sister Meghan within days, just to get her take. “Aaak. Saturday cleaning was the worst.” “But you never complained,” I said. She must have heard the plaintive cry of an open wound in my voice. “You and Mom were trying so hard, we didn’t want to hurt your feelings,” she offered.

No matter how hard you try, you just don’t know which way it will go. You can do your best, and it will sometimes, not all the time, but sometimes, have the opposite affect on your children than what you intend. But sometimes, out of nowhere, the smallest thing, something you don’t even remember – that will be the biggest thing in the world to your child when they have grown up. They will say to you, “Remember when…” with a look of such love and joy on their faces, and you will have no idea what event or activity they are talking about. But you will smile just the same, shining with the pleasure that you did something right.

So, we all do our best as parents, I tell the parents of my students, because that is what our children deserve. Just don’t be convinced that your best will bear the results you desire. And, let me recommend, when doing Saturday cleaning, don’t play any music for your children that you really love.

Posted in November, 2007