Teaching Kids the White Lies

The holiday season is the best time to train children on the skill of lying. The "little white lie" is one of the most useful tools to be added to each kids' belt.

With the hope, joy, happiness, and merriment of the season, also come presents. Many, many presents come for children. Some of these presents are perfect. Some will be loved for years to come. Some will become the basis of cherished holiday memories.

However, that leaves the handful of presents that are... not. A lot of people have the greatest intentions for their gifts, but some people just mess it up. This does not make the gift-giver a bad person. It just makes that person a bad gift-giver.

Because the season suggests love and joy as themes, we are forced to go along with these bad gifts. We need to thank gracefully and appreciatively. It is easy for adults to do this; for the kids, it is a skill that must be taught.

Eleven months out of the year, we teach the children to be truthful. We bombard the kids with fortune-cookie wisdom like honesty is the best policy, don't tell lies, and the truth never hurt anyone. December changes everything.

Once the turkey is gone, the leaves are off the trees, and the frost is on the lawns, the rules change. In December, the truth does hurt people. One one hand, children should be kind to others and not hurt people's feelings. On the other hand, they should not lie. Both of these ideals cannot coexist in December. This dilemma leads to a justification of lying.

Lying is the safest, nicest thing a person can do. These are not the overt lies that exist on the same plane of stealing and cheating; these are the little lies that allow society to function.

These are the lies that allow men to answer the "Does this make me look fat?" questions. These are the lies that let people answer a boss's "Isn't this a great place to work?" questions. These are the lies that let wives tell husbands how good they are at fixing things around the house. These are the lies that keep people talking to each other.

Kids need this skill, and they need it in December.

The first step is to be able to smile when opening one of these bad-gifts. It cannot be the kind of smile that looks like you've swallowed a lemon. It has to be a real-looking smile. Teach the kids to say a knock-knock joke while opening the present so they will have a smile on their faces.


Part of the trick is to teach kids a code-word like awesome, but tell them it means "no good." For example, when trying auntie's soup, the child will immediately say, "This is awesome!" Because the child has "honestly" expressed him or herself using this code-word, he or she will smile naturally.

To sell the deception, the kid needs to say how wonderful the present is. This where drills come in handy. Kids were able to memorize the alphabet, and they have been able to memorize the goofy songs from TV, so they will be able to memorize, "This is awesome!"

As a result, kids will have learned the subtle deceptions necessary for keeping relationships together, staying employed, and getting more gifts in the future.

The consequences of no more punishments

Nobody gets punished anymore.  The word punishment is not even in kids' vocabulary anymore.

I'm not sure when we lost punishments altogether, but teenagers don't seem to know or use the word.  The shift must have started ten to fifteen years ago when people decided that it was more important to massage children's egos while disciplining them.

The unintended "consequence" has been a bastardization of the English language.  Students are getting ready for college by writing essays that describe the Salem Witch trials as women who received consequences because others thought they were witches.

Saddam Hussein received a consequence for his actions as an Iraqi dictator.

OJ Simpson was able to kill two people without receiving consequences.

Where have all the punishments gone?  Have we parented the word out of the language?

The other thing we seem to have parented away is the ability to send a kid to the office for being bad.

As a teacher, there are some students who make it impossible for the others in the room to learn, so they need to get kicked out.  Last week I did that, but was later informed that I had given the child a time-out.

Sometimes the connotation of the word is appropriate for the situation.  Children don't need everything wrapped up with a ribbon - if they are bad, they can be punished.  If needed, they can be kicked out or suspended.

We're not doing anyone any favors by coddling them.  Let a consequence be a punishment.  Kids need to feel bad for what they do if they are to emotionally connect their actions to the results.

Competition

I took my daughter to her first Giants game at four months old, and the only reason it wasn’t sooner is because she was born in December. I’ve now become obsessed with trying to get my daughter to become a star softball player before her third birthday.  So it is for dads everywhere.

However, my dream started to die when my friend’s son (same age) was hitting balls with his little T-Ball bat.  It was a funny scene: the bat was as tall as he, and pitched balls were being smacked all over. It was an impressive, horrible sight.  My daughter had already fallen behind. To twist the knife deeper, this other kid can throw and catch.

My daughter was of course oblivious to the fact that she’d been shown-up by this pip-squeak. Who cares if she knows her ABCs when other kids are working on their curveballs?  The only solution was to get better.  I stuffed her little hand into her pink glove, and we played catch.  Three minutes later she was looking for bugs in the grass.

Okay, so maybe she’s not going to be an all-pro.  I guess the point is that she has fun playing.  But doesn't everyone secretly mock this attitude?  I remember going to my niece’s volleyball game years ago and I was appalled that they were not keeping score. Why play if there’s no winner?

We're biologically hard-wired to be competitive and want to win.  What would Vegas be without winners and losers?  Isn’t playing for fun the sporting equivalent of Communism?  Keeping score is patriotic. It’s the American way of life.

Yes, kids need to build their self-esteem.  Losing can hurt.  I'd argue that learning to deal with loss and failure is part of maturing.  What are we doing if we raise a generation of kids who’ve never lost? How will these kids deal with the first F, the first break-up, and the first lay-off?  Those are all unpleasant things that nobody wants for kids, but they are all very common; we need face the ugly things just like we face the nice things.

I know there’s a line between too easy and too hard, but society has been hanging out on the easy side of that line.  In some ways, winning is easier than the alternative.  Dealing with a loss builds character; character defines you as a person. If my daughter can’t throw the ball straight, I can tell her that she’s doing great or I can tell her to try again.  It is possible to encourage a child without patronizing him or her.

We need to find that line and toe it carefully. I’m going to err on the side of competition, but I will always support, encourage, and love my daughter.

Maybe my attitude on this is what will lead to me getting kicked out of soccer games, but I’ll be keeping score and rooting hard. And as much as I want my daughter to win every time, I’ll be sure to teach her how to deal with a loss.

Artwork Anguish

  I seem to have lost my refrigerator. It used to be in my kitchen, but it's been replaced with a gallery for my daughter's artwork.

  Like all parents, the first "work of art" that I hung on the refrigerator was a source of pride, worthy of being shown off to anyone who came within twenty feet of the front door. Until then, nobody had probably seen such a masterful stroke of green fingerpaint. It was an instant classic - it's probably still on the refrigerator to this day.

  Unfortunately, I couldn't tell for sure - there are layers and layers of papers coating the fridge. It's like an old bathroom that's been covered over and over in wallpaper. No amount of chemicals would be able to burn through that coating.

  Over the years, the refrigerator has collected the finest trophies of my child's activities. There are swimming ribbons, homework assignments, pictures, paintings, and even photos from her little toy camera. It's become a mess. The fridge door groans when opening from having to support so much extra weight on the front.

  The simple and obvious solution is to get rid of this stuff. It hasn't been so simple. When I was a younger and more ambitious father, I scanned some of the artwork into the computer. This worked until the tonnage of work to scan exceeded what I could store on my hard drive. Plus, scanning things like that was kind of a tedious job.

  Around that time, my daughter figured out how to put things onto the refrigerator herself. Foolishly I reinforced this behavior by approving and beaming with pride at her ingenuity. Now she thinks that her job is to come home from preschool and put up her work.

  Once, I tried to get rid of a stack of papers before she could put them up anywhere. Only hours after I thought I had gotten away with it, she asked me why her papers were in the recycling bin.

  A better man would have used that moment as a chance to tell her that we couldn't keep everything.

  A lesser man could have told her it's because we don't love her, and if she keeps whining about it, she's next.

  I chose the wimpy way - I told her it must have been a mistake, and I helped her hang stuff on the fridge.
Either of the other two options would have worked so much better.

  Now the art collection has spread to my workplace. I have the most random collection of things adorning my walls. Now she prints pictures off the internet for me to hang in my classroom. It's not even stuff she has worked on! Just because she knows how to print something on the computer does not make it worthy of display. However, as soon as I got home the other day, she asked why I forgot to bring one such item to school.

  I'm stuck because I hate that look of disappointment. I want to keep her excited and proud of her work. I just need her to be proud without me having to show it off to my colleague and students.

  I have some thoughts on how to fix this problem without making her cry. Option one is to take away her crayons and pencils. Option two is to tape her fingers together so she can't write anymore. Obviously option one is no good because she could still print things. And the second isn't very practical because re-taping her hands each morning would take up too much time in the morning routine.

  I could just talk to her about this...

  Maybe it's time to buy a new refrigerator instead.