Category Archives: Parenting

Sass and Strong Will

“In my opinion, American children may at times seem sassy and strong-willed, which may be no fun to parent, but sometimes sassy breeds new ideas. Independence. Innovation.”  -Laura Kreutzer

photo by Just Taken Pics

I sure hope she’s right.

Let me back up: Last week Laura Kreutzer wrote an article in the NY Times with the rather amusing title In Defense of the Naughty American Child. In it, Ms. Kreutzer argues that the “American” style of parenting has a huge upside, despite its disparaging portrayal in both Amy Chau’s Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother and Pamela Druckerman’s recent Bringing Up Bébé.

Her piece made me stop and think, because it’s easy for me to admire well-mannered children who eat their veggies without a whimper. Also, because I have one of those strong-willed children.

He is incredibly enthusiastic and engaged when he’s interested.

He’s very convincing when he has a plan.

When he’s not interested? Or it’s my plan?

See aforementioned sass and strong will.

Parenting in the tween and teen years is filled with a hundred joys, as we watch our son develop into his own person. It’s also filled with more second-guessing than I would’ve imagined, more missteps—by us and by him—than I could’ve foreseen. Certainly, there’s more of all of that than I’m comfortable with.

And so I came to Ms. Kreuger’s article and it resonated, despite my fondness for mannerly, obedient children. As I read her article, it reminded me of a conversation my husband and I had with some friends of ours when we visited Madrid last year.  As we enjoyed a late, leisurely dinner, we traded stories about our kids. Our Spanish friend, who’s an entrepreneur, joked that maybe our son would also grow up to be an entrepreneur. We all laughed, and I knocked on the wood table.  “Let’s hope so,” I said. Our friend paused. He loved my response. “That’s the difference,” he said, “between the attitude in Spain and in America.” Then he explained that his occupation was frowned upon there, looked upon as rather suspect. The Spanish prefer the status quo and when guys like him try new things, it makes them nervous.

Which brings me right back to Ms. Kreuger’s article.  I especially liked the way she wrapped up her piece, explaining to readers everywhere that while she hopes that she won’t see her daughter on Teen Mom one day, she also hopes her daughter “doesn’t end up in a dead-end situation…, because she wasn’t courageous enough to take calculated risks or question the status quo.”

Hear, hear.

I’ll try to remember that the next time I encounter sass and strong-will.  I shouldn’t have a very long wait.

Education: A Relaxed Approach

This is an actual statement—about me!—from one of my boys’ teachers:

by Horia Varlan

“I really appreciate how relaxed you are about his schoolwork.”

That sound you just heard? That was the collective gasp of every friend I’ve ever had, since I became a parent.

People say a lot of things about me. Some say I’m focused. Intense. I care deeply about education. I think too much. I’m too hard on my son. I need to lighten up.

But relaxed? I don’t hear that one quite as often.

So I smiled, a long, slow smile when this teacher, whom I respect and admire, handed me her very high complement. To be clear, I did defend myself. “I don’t want you to think we don’t care about education!” I exclaimed. “We just take a different approach.”

And from here, this post could go several ways. I could bog you down with the eight thousand things I think are important about kids and learning. I could bore you with details of why I strongly support the idea of a primary and secondary school Classical Education and a Liberal Arts education at the collegiate level. We could argue about when kids should learn to read or multiply. We could digress into the black hole of discussion that centers on public education in America today. My kids attend public school. We could even go there. I could tell you why I’m very glad they do or I could share reasons I’m concerned by the very same fact.

But that’s not where I’m going. Instead, I’m going to bask in the glow of that teacher’s high praise. I’m going to spend the weekend playing games with my son (yes, it’s true, they might involve math skills, or gasp!-reading). I’m going to watch the snow fall and remember why I’ve made the choices I have with regards to parenting—many of which are tied to my belief that thinking is the critical skill we teach our kids. For a few moments, I’m not going dwell on the many times I’ve fallen short as a parent or worry about the impact of my parenting choices. I’m not even going to sweat the fact that nary a boy made his bed today.

I’m just going to enjoy the happy shine of a good teacher’s words.

Lighten Up

photo by Calgary Reviews

Thank you, Gretchen.
Why, you wonder?  Why am I thanking a woman I’ve never met?
I could thank her for writing a book that’s reached millions and isn’t drivel.  For writing a book that’s so well researched it made me want to run to the library and read Tolstoy and Virginia Woolf and Ann Patchett. All at once.
I could thank her for being a kindred spirit, a fellow list keeper and seeker of gold stars.  For writing a book that made me feel like I had climbed inside and was speaking from its very pages. For her age-old but still sage advice to Be Yourself.
But this isn’t a book review post.  And that’s not why I’m thanking her. 
This morning, I’m thanking her for helping me keep in check that irascible pest who lurks around the corner of my bleary-eyed mornings: my temper.  Her words were fresh in my mind as I held my tongue and tone.  They came back to me as I resisted the urge to allow a massive frown to overtake my forehead. I’d risen early to get ready before the older boys (for anyone who knows me, this tidbit—rising early—is a flaming red flag), then my youngest son and I left home twenty minutes early so I could take him for a treat of hot chocolate before school.  Before long, the aforementioned hot chocolate was all over his jeans and winter jacket.  Seven minutes before school started.
But he felt bad enough. He was worried about his jeans. Heaping my frustration on top of his feelings wasn’t necessary, wouldn’t help, could only hurt.
In her book The Happiness Project, Gretchen Rubin’s dedicates an entire chapter, and month of her life, to a topic it would do me good to emulate: Lighten Up.
And so this morning I tried.  I really tried. Who could imagine that a little hot chocolate could be so frustrating?  Although I must admit, in my experience anything can be frustrating that early in the morning!
So my son’s off to start his day. His jeans are a bit damp but his spirit seemed fine.
Thanks, Gretchen.