Bad Losers, Brother Brawls, and Perspective Taking

On our first visit to the Museum of Fine Arts last year, our tour guide Jake asked the boys, “Do you know the three rules of an art museum?”

Ezra responded quickly and exuberantly.  ”No violence!”

“Okay – four rules,” Jake replied while laughing.

I don’t know what kind of kids Jake normally gets at the museum, but for my boys No Violence has to be at the top of the rule list.  They just can’t keep their hands off of each other.  They sleep in a tangle of legs and arms many nights.  If there are five square feet somewhere, they manage to turn them into a wrestling ring.  Sometimes, though, someone pushes a little too hard and all of that physicality turns ugly, with lots of tears, bruises, and accusations.  And if Ezra is the least bit upset with Zach, he scratches, kicks, and hits.

Zach, on the other hand, can usually hold it together.  That is, until he loses.  Or he is threatened with losing.  Then he falls apart.  He starts hissing, wells up with tears, and literally growls at his opponent. My rule-following, good boy can even turn into an ugly little cheater if it will help avert loss.

In just the last week, he threw a tennis racket across the court; he called a new board game, “the stupidest game ever;” and he said of the evil soccer team who beat his team, “If they want a fight, we’re gonna give them a fight!”  We don’t tolerate his fits; I pull him off the field, send him to bed without dessert, take away his allowance, and cancel cherished play dates.  All to no avail.   Very little makes me feels as incompetent as Zach’s inability to be a gracious loser.

According to Ellen Galinsky, in Mind in the Making, what both of my boys need is help with perspective taking, the second on her list of Seven Essential Life Skills.  She writes that for twenty years, educators believed that to reduce aggression in school-aged children they should teach problem-solving skills. Instead, new research indicates that the far more effective way to reduce aggression is to promote perspective taking.

Even if your kids don’t beat the crud out of each other or take vows of hatred toward the other team, you’ll want to promote perspective taking.  It’s been shown to predict better reading ability and better pro-social behavior.

When we talk about perspective taking, we are not talking about a fuzzy kind of empathy, although I would take more of that from the boys.  We are talking about the executive functions of inhibiting our own thoughts and feelings to take on those of others; the cognitive flexibility to see things in more than one way; and the ability to reflect on the differences and similarities between our perspective and that of others.

One of Galinsky’s suggestions to improve perspective taking is to undertake lots of pretend play and discussions of how characters are feeling at points in the story.  Some days, like all of the days this week, I give up hope that we can do much to help.  Plus, I hate pretend play and role playing. But I’m gonna do it. And I’m gonna take out our social stories books again.  And I’m gonna ease up on some homeschool curriculum to make room for all of it.  Better to help the boys avoid becoming Genghis Khan than to study him, yes?

 

Our First College Tour

On Saturday, my oldest child turned 16.  On Monday, she got her learner’s permit.  And yesterday, I walked with her all over my alma mater, Northwestern–our first ever college tour.  Today we look at University of Chicago.

Whew!  Time flies when you’re having (or even not having) fun.

As I’ve talked about this college trip at the end of her sophomore year, almost everyone (including my husband), says something like, “Wow, you’re starting early!”

And of course, I suspect they’re also thinking, “There goes the Tiger Mom pushing it again.”

But a couple moms with seniors or college age kids have said, “Good for you!  You can’t start too early, it’s a completely exhausting process.”

In my defense, I flew out here for a reunion and celebration of a mentor’s semi-retirement (see Best Advice I Ever Got) and decided to bring Ling because we may not have the chance to return to the Midwest.  Carpe Diem!  Seize the Day!

After one whole full day of college touring, here are some initial thoughts and questions:

  • Dang, I got a good education and didn’t appreciate it at the time.  My friend says doing college tours made her want to go back to undergrad again, just now with all her grown-up sensibility.  Me too!  If youth is wasted on the young, so is college.
  • Dang, getting into any name-brand college is a crapshoot these days.  There are 4 times as many applicants to Northwestern as when I applied.  I’ve heard so many stories of kids with straight As, good scores, and excellent extra-curricular activities not getting into top-tier schools that I’m trying to think realistically and help my daughter do so also.  Back when I applied to college, I was pretty sure I’d get into many of the 8 schools I applied to.  Today, all of those schools are considered “reach” schools, with no guarantees.
  • Dang, as a follower of Jesus, how much should I, or my child, care about name-brand colleges anyway?  This can, and I’m sure will be, it’s own full post or series of posts in the next several years.
  • Dang, even this early, she hated the pressure she felt to pretend or exaggerate her worth, even as she loved so much about the school.  I made the mistake of taking her to an info session at the School of Education and Social Policy (the school from which I received 3 degrees—I wanted to hear where it is now) which ended up feeling like an interview because we were the only ones there.  Can I say we (or she) wasn’t prepared?
  • Dang, how do I not promote the overweening message Northeast/Chinese culture preaches that her worth and future are determined by the prestige of the school she ultimately attends, but coach her to do her best? As we processed later, I said, “It’s not about faking it, it’s about letting your light shine.”  Hard for a shy girl.  But a necessary life skill, and something Jesus tells us to do.
  • Dang, I think I injured my right foot walking all day.  How’m I going to make it through the U of C tour today?

I’m sure questions about college, prestige, achievement and ambition can stir up a very lively conversation—would love to hear your comments and advice as we begin the process.

Until then, University of Chicago, here we come—Carpe Diem!

You might also enjoy:

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Some Reflections on Raising Hapa-Haole Kids

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Google, How Do I Deal With Bratty Kids?

What do you do when your friend’s child is a brat? Come on over to Whole Mama and let’s chat about it.

A Rule of Life,The Charles River, and Me

I came home from my walk along the Charles River last Saturday nearly euphoric.  Maybe you can’t imagine a river doing that for you.  Not long ago, I couldn’t have imagined it myself, but two things have changed since that time.

First, I moved to Cambridge, Massachusetts, a city that gives the phrase mind over matter a whole new meaning.  Here, ideas, and the brains that came up with those ideas, are what matter.  I lived with a guy in grad school who was getting his doctorate studying the piscatorial poetry of 19th century England. Piscatorial is a fancy word for fishing and, for the record, he had never been fishing.

In a place like this, the river has become ever more important to my well-being.  It doesn’t care what I did or said the day before.  It rolls right along with or without me.  Every spring the goslings make a mess of the sidewalks just as the cherry blossoms bloom.  Every winter, the ice seems to sprout upward along the bank.

On Saturday, the sky was blue, the kayaks silent, and the skyline stunning. I wanted to stop and applaud.  ”The God who created all of this, including the people who designed those buildings, is so very, very good!”

Second, I just returned from three months in Costa Rica.  Since returning, people have told me that I look relaxed, healthy, even younger!  They want to know what the secret was.  Was it the break from work? Well, yes.  The beaches and rain forests? Yes, that too.  But what it really was was our rule of life.

The idea of a rule of life comes from monastic traditions, where monks and nuns had to figure out how to live their communal life in ways that glorify God and help the members grow in love and obedience.  The idea has been gaining ground in Evangelical circles these days, and Jeff and I used our sabbatical time to work on our family’s rule of life. (You can read Jeff’s reflections on the Rule of St. Benedict, here.)

Our rule is still evolving, and involves direction in every aspect of our lives. I think that the aspects of the rule that were most significant when it comes to my rejuvenated look were about sleep, Sabbath, exercise, food, and sex.  You see, no matter what I think about my abilities to work all day, eat garbage, and assume that my marriage is bulletproof, it’s simply not true.  We were created to live according to certain rhythms.

Following those rhythms does two things.  First, it allows us to operate the way we were intended to, like putting the right kind of gas in your car.  More important, though, is that as we resist the rule (which we do all too often), we remember that we are not the center of the universe, that someone else is in charge, that someone else’s agenda is more important than our own, and that we worship a God who wants us to live in sync with the created order.

As I walked along the Charles, I realized that the river already knew this little secret.  All it needs to do to glorify its maker is obey its rule.  For instance, it keeps right on flowing toward the sea, regardless of what is happening around it.  Given enough time, it has the mechanisms to rid itself of toxins. It’s true that we may eventually overcome it’s ability to clean itself up by dumping too much factory waste in it upstream. But the Charles River won’t participate in it’s own destruction.

Only we people do that. We chose TV over sleep, fighting over forgiveness, shopping over gratitude, an extra accolade from work over an extra game of Candyland at home, a clean house over a clean heart, and chocolate over sex (sorry, Kathy).

God knows this about us and loves us anyway.  His grace is never overwhelmed by the toxic goo we pour in our streams.  He loves us as we write useless dissertations and when we find cures for cancer.  He loves us when we gain ten pounds and when we take food to the sick.  He loves us when we are kind to our husbands and when we yell at the kids.  He loves us.

Still, he has something better for us than we could design ourselves.  And he invites us to stop participating in our own destruction.  Just ask the Charles.

________________________________________________________________________

To read more about our travels in Costa Rica, start with these:

Waking Up

Traveling With Children

Mother’s Day Gifts, or Why I Never Get What I Want

My kids all have “Gift Giving” as their language of love.

I do not.

They love birthday gifts and Christmas gifts, special treats during the week, little surprises on a shopping trip.  And as they’ve gotten older, they also like giving gifts.  So as my birthday and Mother’s Day came 2 weeks apart, “What do you want?” became an ongoing refrain.

“Obedience.”

Many eye rolls.  “No!  What do you really want?”

“I really want obedience.”

More huffs, puffs and shaking of heads, “No, what do you really really really want?”

“I really really really want obedience.  Or if you can’t give me that, cooperation, and if that’s too hard, not fighting with your siblings.”

This Mother’s Day, I sent Scott to the monastery because he needed time away to decompress and pray.  He was reluctant to strand me with 3 kids on Mother’s Day but I said, “It’s Mother’s Day, not Wife day. It’s up to the kids whether or how to celebrate.”

At 6:30 a.m. Ren (12) plopped onto my bed and fell asleep.  I think it was his job to “guard” me.

Awakened, I decided to watch Downton Abbey on my laptop while trying to ignore the clashing of pots in the kitchen.

At 7:30, the two girls came in bearing a tray.  Kai (14), the only child who’s taken after my obsession with cooking, presented her version of Eggs Canterbury—Eggs benedict with avocado, tomato, jack cheese, turkey, and Canadian bacon.

“Sorry, we have no meat so these are vegetarian Eggs Canterbury,” she said.

Along with Eggs Canterbury sans meat, they had made my typical granola/fruit/yogurt bowl (with 3 times the amount I eat each morning), bananas in orange juice with confectioner’s sugar, and de-caf coffee.

I may not have the gifts language of love but I do have the food language of love.

Kai had not made Eggs Canterbury sans meat for anyone else, so everyone wanted bites of mine.  But they’re old enough now that they let me eat at least half of it—in years past, Ren would eat my entire breakfast.

Ling (16) gave me a homemade Mother’s Day card.  Inside she wrote:

Hey Mommerz. . .

Just wanted to let you know on your very special holiday just for you that I love you SO much!  And our family would never be able to function without what you do for us.  Cooking, cleaning, reluctantly submitting to my hugs [see The Chinese Problem with Hugs for more background}. . .all very much appreciated.  So like most other holidays that we’re supposed to be obedient for you on, we’ll probably fail again today and you’ll be sad.  Just want you to know that we all really wish we were good enough to give you that gift.

Wow.  Ling encapsulated the human moral quandary.  What the Apostle Paul mourns:

I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do. . . I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. For I do not do the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing.  (Romans 7: 14, 18-19 TNIV)

Boy do I get it.  I want to be a loving mom who never raises her voice in anger and always has the perfect natural consequence to inappropriate behavior.  I want to be a mom who doesn’t cringe when kids pounce on me.  I want to be perfect—for their sake—and I’m not.  And neither are they.

I didn’t get perfect obedience nor a huge amount of cooperation that day.  I definitely didn’t get peace between siblings.  Instead, I received the message that even if they can’t get me what I really want, because they love me, they can give me a plastic flower that opens and closes with “Happy Mother’s Day” in its petals (from Ren), Eggs Canterbury sans meat with a feast (from Kai & Ling), and a note saying how much they try.

I didn’t get what I wanted, but  I got something better.

You might also enjoy:

Chocolate=Lies, Sex=Truth

Best Advice I Ever Got

3 Reasons I Work for Money

Some Reflections on Raising Hapa-Haole Kids

Do You Think Chinese Girls are Pretty?