Raising a Quitter
Peanut has played hooky from swim practice for three days now. On Monday I was willing to believe he was under the weather, as was I. On Tuesday I was skeptical, but my own body was urging me to keep playing sick, so I let it slide. This morning I called him out and told him that he could skip practice (and the evening's meet) but that it would cost him the tv and computer. Suddenly his eyes were itchy, his head hurt, and his body ached. I know the feeling - wishful sickening.
I gave him ten minutes to make his choice, which gave me ten minutes to decide how I wanted to handle the situation. Playing hooky comes as naturally to Peanut as it did to me when I was a kid. The combination of unhappiness at school and a strong desire to follow one's own pursuits can make a person want to weasel out of any responsibility. That's where firm parents come in, and later bills that need paying. And yet, to this day I am a total flake about showing up where I'm supposed to be. No doubt Peanut is riding my wave of fickle commitment. It's not a trait I would have wished he inherited from me, but the truth is that my willpower to set a different example is evenly matched with my own desire to eschew schedules. Peanut flakes, I get to flake. It's a win-win! In the short term, at least, until we get notes from school about unexcused absences (I totally meant to write an excuse but forgot) and I have to deal with the fact that my kid is a total stranger to things like team spirit and sacrifice. He is, in short, just like me in one of the worst possible ways.
Even so, I found myself unwilling to lecture him about commitments. When it comes to children there's a tacit belief that quitting is bad. You don't want to be a quitter. Quitters are horrible people, weak and selfish. And yet, how often do we, as adults, struggle with finding the confidence to commit less and say no without guilt? Eventually the willpower to quit is just as essential as the willpower to stick with it. To quit with one's head held high, confident that it's the right choice, takes guts. People will think less of us. But we will have rid ourselves us an unnecessary source of stress. Yet, when it comes to kids, we still seem to think that they need to learn the lesson of hanging in there no matter what.
I am a champion quitter. I have quit good jobs, graduate school ambitions, and every diet and exercise plan I've ever adopted. I have changed my career goals so many times no one takes me seriously anymore when I say I want to do such-and-such with my life. I have fantasized being a professional knitter, a martial artist, art school student, trial attorney, writer, competitive rower, cartoonist, mother of twelve, carpenter and at one, very brief time of life, a nun. Yet today I do nothing with my life, except to dabble in a dizzying array of hobbies and skills. I have quit just as many things as I have tried, but I have tried everything without fear or hesitation. Quitting might be one of my worst traits, but my willingness to attempt and succeed at anything is one of my best. So I won't apologize for quitting, not any more. I may never settle on any one thing long enough to become a professional, but I will never lack for interests.
I can't say that Peanut has my zeal for variety. He's fairly single minded about video games, but it's clear to me that forcing him to finish something that gives him nothing but anxiety is pointless. It's better to allow him to dabble and try new things, and drop them as he wishes, than to forever instill in him the idea that any commitment once made can't be unbroken without shame. There's a fine line between showing up for the team and showing up for oneself and, unfortunately, we are too inclined to honor the former and neglect the latter. Especially in today's culture, where parents wring their hands in nervous anticipation of college admissions, it's all too easy to push our kids into sticking with commitments long after they've stopped getting anything out of it.
So Peanut hates being on the swim team; at least he loves swimming. Maybe, in the short amount of time he'll save by skipping practice, he'll master chess or start studying biology. Probably not, but at least he's free to think about how to enjoy his day instead of dreading how he must spend it.
I gave him ten minutes to make his choice, which gave me ten minutes to decide how I wanted to handle the situation. Playing hooky comes as naturally to Peanut as it did to me when I was a kid. The combination of unhappiness at school and a strong desire to follow one's own pursuits can make a person want to weasel out of any responsibility. That's where firm parents come in, and later bills that need paying. And yet, to this day I am a total flake about showing up where I'm supposed to be. No doubt Peanut is riding my wave of fickle commitment. It's not a trait I would have wished he inherited from me, but the truth is that my willpower to set a different example is evenly matched with my own desire to eschew schedules. Peanut flakes, I get to flake. It's a win-win! In the short term, at least, until we get notes from school about unexcused absences (I totally meant to write an excuse but forgot) and I have to deal with the fact that my kid is a total stranger to things like team spirit and sacrifice. He is, in short, just like me in one of the worst possible ways.
Even so, I found myself unwilling to lecture him about commitments. When it comes to children there's a tacit belief that quitting is bad. You don't want to be a quitter. Quitters are horrible people, weak and selfish. And yet, how often do we, as adults, struggle with finding the confidence to commit less and say no without guilt? Eventually the willpower to quit is just as essential as the willpower to stick with it. To quit with one's head held high, confident that it's the right choice, takes guts. People will think less of us. But we will have rid ourselves us an unnecessary source of stress. Yet, when it comes to kids, we still seem to think that they need to learn the lesson of hanging in there no matter what.
I am a champion quitter. I have quit good jobs, graduate school ambitions, and every diet and exercise plan I've ever adopted. I have changed my career goals so many times no one takes me seriously anymore when I say I want to do such-and-such with my life. I have fantasized being a professional knitter, a martial artist, art school student, trial attorney, writer, competitive rower, cartoonist, mother of twelve, carpenter and at one, very brief time of life, a nun. Yet today I do nothing with my life, except to dabble in a dizzying array of hobbies and skills. I have quit just as many things as I have tried, but I have tried everything without fear or hesitation. Quitting might be one of my worst traits, but my willingness to attempt and succeed at anything is one of my best. So I won't apologize for quitting, not any more. I may never settle on any one thing long enough to become a professional, but I will never lack for interests.
I can't say that Peanut has my zeal for variety. He's fairly single minded about video games, but it's clear to me that forcing him to finish something that gives him nothing but anxiety is pointless. It's better to allow him to dabble and try new things, and drop them as he wishes, than to forever instill in him the idea that any commitment once made can't be unbroken without shame. There's a fine line between showing up for the team and showing up for oneself and, unfortunately, we are too inclined to honor the former and neglect the latter. Especially in today's culture, where parents wring their hands in nervous anticipation of college admissions, it's all too easy to push our kids into sticking with commitments long after they've stopped getting anything out of it.
So Peanut hates being on the swim team; at least he loves swimming. Maybe, in the short amount of time he'll save by skipping practice, he'll master chess or start studying biology. Probably not, but at least he's free to think about how to enjoy his day instead of dreading how he must spend it.
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