Four Reasons Not to Praise Your Kids

He stood staring up at the sky.I half expected him to just plop down in the middle of left field and start picking grass.

A frenzy of boys scrambling for the ball moved steadily towards him. They were almost on top of him and I saw his gaze snap back to the game just in time to watch the ball rush by him as he stood motionless. A few seconds after the ball had glided by, he lumbered after it, but gave up as it was kicked swiftly into the goal by the opposite team.

My husband and I sighed and shook our heads in wonder.

This was supposed to be fun for him. But so far, he seemed out-of-place and awkward on the field. It didn’t help that all of his teammates went to the same school and already knew each other or that he was not as agile or fast as the other boys on his team.

We gathered up our chairs as each team member shook hands and my mom heart was hurting because I knew he must realize how poorly he played.

But he bounced happily up to us and proclaimed that their team was once again undefeated. True, the team hadn’t lost a game yet but that was mostly due to a few elite players that had played soccer for years.

I realized that he had no idea he was the worst player on the team.

He bragged on about their victory and we were both left a little confused with how to proceed. Do we say, “Yes son, you did great!” when in reality, he was barely in the game? Do we say, ” Maybe soccer is not your game,” or “You need to pay more attention next time or try harder,” or do we smile and nod as he goes on about how great they are?

After all, it is third grade community soccer, it’s supposed to be about  fun and sportsmanship, right?

Ever wondered how those people end up on American Idol auditions singing so terribly off-key and being utterly shocked and hurt when they are told singing professionally is not their thing? Maybe their parents just smiled and nodded. Maybe they flattered them so as not to crush their dreams.

photo credit catsav

After all, isn’t it our job to build up their self-esteem?  I would argue that flattery has an opposite effect.

1.) Flattery undermines ambition. When we tell our kids that they are naturally great at things, we are telling them that they don’t have to work hard to be good at it. They already are. We are actually minimizing the chance that they will ever be good at that thing because hard work and practice is the only way to truly get better.

2.) False praise diminishes trust. Eventually, the kids on the team are going to let him know that he’s not the best player and probably not in the kindest way. The coach will tell him he doesn’t have what it takes to make the team. The judge will say, “Your singing is rubbish,” and they will realize you weren’t telling them the truth all along.

3.) False praise doesn’t leave room for constructive criticism. We should speak into our children’s lives to help foster growth in all areas and when we offer flattery, we close the door to impart wisdom and direction. Criticism should always be motivated by the heart intent of building them up for their own good. We should never criticize out of our pride or to live vicariously through our children’s accomplishments.

4.) False praise breeds arrogance not confidence. Telling your child they are good at everything they do or try imparts the feeling that they can never fail or lose. If you always let your child win when you’re playing games it will be extra tough when they play someone who is not their mommy and lose. Learning to handle losing without letting it rock your self-image is as important to confidence as winning, if not more so.

Remembrance of negative things far surpass any complements we receive in our childhood so children need to be firmly rooted in lavish, abundant praise and acknowledgement of their worth and value as individuals regardless of their abilities.

This kind of praise can never be overdone. I believe we are all reflections of God’s image and we should accept our worth through Him. Likewise, any talents or abilities we do have are simply gifts He’s given us for His glory and we should nurture and acknowledge them, especially when we see them in our children.

What do you think about these issues? Do you always let your kids win? Do you think there’s a place when flattery is necessary? Do you feel it’s best to let kids discover their abilities on their own or do you encourage specific ones? I’d love to hear your thoughts on this subject. 

 

Life In Bloom

Five Minute Friday: Real

It’s that time of the week again, when we let our words fly and take shape for the fun of it. 

1. Write for 5 minutes flat – no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking

2. Link back to The Gypsy Mama and invite others to join in.

3. Please visit the person who linked up before you & encourage them in their comments.

OK, are you ready? Give me your best five minutes on:

::

Real…

God never place us in any position in which we can not grow. We may fancy that He does. We may fear we are so impeded by fretting, petty cares that we are gaining nothing; but when we are not sending any branches upward, we may be sending roots downward. Perhaps in the time of our humiliation, when everything seems a failure, we are making the best kind of progress.- Elizabeth Prentiss 

Sometimes I feel stuck. The days seem to repeat endlessly and each trial continues and each step feels as though I am retracing a path with tracks from my drifting heart . Sometimes I find myself in familiar surroundings and I wonder at how I have allowed myself to come back here. To this place that I thought I had moved beyond.

We talk of getting real. Of letting each other lean in close and see us as we are, the no makeup greasy ponytail girl staring into a full closet of clothes that no longer fit and deciding it’s not worth going out today.

The weight watchers name tag, Hello My Name is Alia sticker you found on the back of your jeans when you undressed at night and you realize you ran all of your errands since your meeting that morning with it stuck to your butt. And that one of those errands was buying ice cream and cake mix because you weighed in and the scale was mocking your hard work and you give up so easily.

Your toddler saying “Put me down you idiot,” at a homeschool ceremony while he struggles to get free of your grasp and you know he learned that word from you and your road rage. And you wonder how these kids of yours will ever turn out alright when they copy you so readily. And the worst parts always seem to come out.

And you feel like a failure. Again.

Some days you  feel the draw of depression pulling you down. The invitation to stop caring. To stop trying and just close your eyes and your bed is calling you, it is pleading for you to stay. It would be so much easier. And you find yourself there again. In this place you’ve moved beyond and you know you don’t want to stay here. You know that this is where  your heart goes to die. To be alone.

You want to be real but you also want to be loved. And sometimes you don’t feel the real is lovable. Sometimes the real is messy and pitiful or weak and broken.

Sometimes your real feels whiny and complaining and you know you should choose joy but what comes out sounds fake and syrupy and you don’t want to be that girl. The one who never seems real, with the platitudes and life lessons wrapped up neatly. The one who never lets the messy bits show.

So you choose to keep silent and alone and settle into this familiar place. Or you may choose to tell it all. To let the messy bits show and hope for the best, to set out on the path even if you’re not sure where you’ll end up.

Sometimes it is enough to say that I am a failing in these areas.  And that God is at work. And that is good enough. The best, really. God knows our real, our ruts in the road from life’s ordeals, why would we try to hide them from the ones He’s put in our lives to help us find the way back? Our friends.

To all of my friends who cover my messy parts and still love me, I’m so blessed by each of you.

Decluttering Part Six: First I Was a Failure, Now I am a Quitter

 I have a desire to be healed. To be made whole in the areas where I am not. To have the scars fade to  pale flesh like stretch marks that snake across my soul and call to remembrance the growing pains and tearing of flesh that couldn’t quite keep up. The scars that only time fades but the joy of new life makes  insignificant. God has called me to  new life 

I want to be healthy. Not a physical goal or  fantasy but a desire to be free. To be able to instill good habits into my children. To be able to say with confidence that my fat suit has been shed no matter what size I am in. That I have struggled and flailed and failed but that I am walking in victory and grace.

I am a quitter.  In the worst sense of the word. Sometimes it’s as if I have the attention span of an overstimulated toddler. There is always something new and shiny to play with and nothing ever comes to fruition because I quit before it is finished.

I believe that this time it will work.  It hasn’t, as evidenced by the treadmill, the spin bike, the jogging stroller, the calorie monitor, the bike trailer,  the millions of exercise videos, the blender, mixer, diet books, gym memberships, pots of cabbage soup, shakes,  subscriptions to meal plans and any other shiny things that somehow convinced me that this was the key to my success. 

 

I begin the list with the pros and cons. If there are enough pros and emotional excitement (shininess) , I forge ahead with determination. Cabbage soup for 30 days while losing 40 lbs. Sounds good till day 3 and more gas than any normal human should be capable of making. 

Somewhere between the base camp and the trek up the  mountain, I lose steam. I look to the summit, the distant far off place where I would plant my flag and it’s altogether too far. The incline and terrain are too brutal. The days too long and cold.Facing Everest

I start to wonder why I ever wanted to climb this stupid mountain in the first place.

After all, lots of people are perfectly content to stay below.  They probably have enchiladas below and comfy beds and WiFi. Either way, this mountain climbing business is not for me.

And then, I quit, but instead of trekking back down the mountain, I sled down, gaining speed and crashing at the bottom with 20 extra pounds over my starting point and a bunch of  uneaten Jenny Craig meals in the freezer.

Apparently, I’m more of a small hill kind of girl than a big mountain. Or maybe I’m a plateau girl. That’s even better. A bit steep  at first but then it all levels out and you still have a decent view without the nosebleeds and altitude sickness.

Maybe the quitting is inevitable because I am attempting to climb Everest when I should really be looking for a nice hill with a paved trail.

Maybe it’s not so much in the revamping of all that is wrong but in the consistency of the steps I am taking.

Maybe my quitting is actually the right thing for me, because I’m always going about it all wrong.

Maybe the constant attempts to ascend the mountain unprepared have just left me increasingly weaker and more traumatized. 

Maybe the view from the hill is good enough for now.

Maybe, I need to stop hating the process, stop hating the failures I feel and start embracing the journey. Step up into grace and take in the view from the plateau. Allow myself to notice the things that I can see from here and focus on those. 

Everest can wait. I quit.

 

Do you have any mountains to quit? Hills to rest on? I’d love to hear your thoughts. 

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