Being home with a sick child is a recipe for doing wholly nothing. This has been well documented. Yet here I sit, adding my two cents to generations' worth of knowledge. I wish I could do something productive, explore new music, write something worthwhile... but I must temper my expectations. Today shall be a "Moderate Monday". If I do no more than care for the children, I will have done plenty - or so I tell myself.
But my heart resists. Do, do, do! screams the inner voice, the same persona that quivers, critically aware of the minutes scrolling by. She helpfully presents me with flash impressions of the items on my theoretical "to-do" list: clean up, find a cleaning lady, do the front closet, make supper, fold more laundry, pay bills, ad infinitum.
And my daughter whines because she lacks the tech skills to navigate my phone and locate the videos her siblings watch. I refuse to sit there showing her video after video until we both snap, screen-crazed and foggy, hungry and neglected. There has to be a way to engage her in real creative play. Or even to "cuddle her", as she sometimes requests.
It's the tedium that gets me, I think. Mundanity has ever been a problematic subject. (I touched on this yesterday when considering the value of intelligence versus hard work. See "You're So Smart." - not.)
What will it take to impress on me the value of, and blessing that is, a normal day? Don't answer that. I need to look at today as an opportunity to flex my gratitude muscles.
Today I am grateful for:
1. Family.
2. Shelter.
3. Security.
4. Spirituality.
5. Theyeshiva.net.
Showing posts with label Parenting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Parenting. Show all posts
Monday, December 9, 2019
Sunday, December 8, 2019
"You're So Smart!" - not.
It's been a while since I've written. And by that, I mean, since I've written anything beyond my journal. (I don't think the journal counts as real writing - it's more stream-of-consciousness than craft.) I'm not sure why, but my creative drive moves in cycles, from music to writing to nothing, or some other sequence of the same. I don't seem to control it, and I have zero discipline, so those artistic practices recommended by William Kenower (see Fearless Writing, here and here) don't actually work for me.
That's the problem.
In the real world, it seems, talent alone doesn't cut it. One needs discipline, consistency, and above all, effort, in order to produce results. I was raised to value genius. For the longest time, I entertained the secret hope that I would turn out to be a prodigy. My husband, on the other hand, grew up valuing effort and results. "You work/ed hard," is a common form of praise for his family.
I've come to recognize that effort and consistency are more likely to produce results than genius alone. Genius can sit in a corner preening, while effort actually moves the blocks. I don't say this to put myself down. Rather, my values are shifting, and this will impact how I parent my children. No longer, "You're so smart". Yes, s/he is smart. But is that worth praising? Did the child do anything deserving of praise? "You gave it your best" actually notices a behavior.
I'm reminded of a period in high school where my peers liked to tell me how smart I was. It was meant as a compliment, but it did not sit well with me. My secular education had been more complete than theirs, plus, I'd spent my whole childhood reading books. I'd picked up a couple things, that was all.
When I entered the real world, I was unprepared for real work. I'd coasted through school on 'talent', never learning the value of effort or consistency. And now as an adult, I'm paying the price.
I only hope that recognizing the value in targeting praise to behavior will enable me to better raise competent successful adults.
That's the problem.
In the real world, it seems, talent alone doesn't cut it. One needs discipline, consistency, and above all, effort, in order to produce results. I was raised to value genius. For the longest time, I entertained the secret hope that I would turn out to be a prodigy. My husband, on the other hand, grew up valuing effort and results. "You work/ed hard," is a common form of praise for his family.
I've come to recognize that effort and consistency are more likely to produce results than genius alone. Genius can sit in a corner preening, while effort actually moves the blocks. I don't say this to put myself down. Rather, my values are shifting, and this will impact how I parent my children. No longer, "You're so smart". Yes, s/he is smart. But is that worth praising? Did the child do anything deserving of praise? "You gave it your best" actually notices a behavior.
I'm reminded of a period in high school where my peers liked to tell me how smart I was. It was meant as a compliment, but it did not sit well with me. My secular education had been more complete than theirs, plus, I'd spent my whole childhood reading books. I'd picked up a couple things, that was all.
When I entered the real world, I was unprepared for real work. I'd coasted through school on 'talent', never learning the value of effort or consistency. And now as an adult, I'm paying the price.
I only hope that recognizing the value in targeting praise to behavior will enable me to better raise competent successful adults.
Wednesday, June 26, 2019
Musical Pains
Why does art hurt me so bad?
This question recurs in my life every time I encounter something heartbreakingly beautiful. I've experienced this brand of pain at concerts, plays, minor displays of talent... pretty much any time I encounter someone else experiencing music. It's like my body needs to participate. I can't be a bystander. But guess what? I'm not that good at music! I can't match up to most people on any instrument. I have enough knowledge to recognize genius when I see it. And that's about it.
It hurts. I don't know why.
Today's obsession is Hallelujah, performed by Pentatonix. I'm sure you've heard the track. Hasn't everyone? It's been viewed more than four hundred million times. And that's just on Youtube. I play the song in the car when I'm driving and it plays in my head when I'm busy in the kitchen. I can't shut it off, can't get away... and I'm not sure if I want to. It tears me up inside and I can't tell if I love it or hate it.
What do you call this pain from beauty? I've heard of 'beauty in pain' before, but never this.
They say that in order to build confidence, one needs to build skill. So I ought to be practicing an instrument, right? Does singing count? I sing a lot around the house but my kids complain so I stop. I don't know why I don't feel satisfied with mediocre. It feels like I'm supposed to be more than that. Perhaps it's all a consequence of high school, where I was told, "you're so smart!" almost every day for three years. For someone 'so smart', and 'so talented', there must certainly be great things in store. Right?
Wrong.
In reality, the bar set too high discourages me from even making an effort. As a parent, I suppose the lesson is never to label the child, even with positive labels. Label behaviors instead. That action was kind. That behavior was brave. That choice was smart. This builds self-esteem in children without destroying their sense of satisfaction with life.
(Great, now I'm giving parenting advice? Oh the irony.)
For me, the daily practice is beginning with something - anything - small. I can't look at the entirety of the task or project lest I get overwhelmed and defeated before I've begun.
This question recurs in my life every time I encounter something heartbreakingly beautiful. I've experienced this brand of pain at concerts, plays, minor displays of talent... pretty much any time I encounter someone else experiencing music. It's like my body needs to participate. I can't be a bystander. But guess what? I'm not that good at music! I can't match up to most people on any instrument. I have enough knowledge to recognize genius when I see it. And that's about it.
It hurts. I don't know why.
Today's obsession is Hallelujah, performed by Pentatonix. I'm sure you've heard the track. Hasn't everyone? It's been viewed more than four hundred million times. And that's just on Youtube. I play the song in the car when I'm driving and it plays in my head when I'm busy in the kitchen. I can't shut it off, can't get away... and I'm not sure if I want to. It tears me up inside and I can't tell if I love it or hate it.
What do you call this pain from beauty? I've heard of 'beauty in pain' before, but never this.
They say that in order to build confidence, one needs to build skill. So I ought to be practicing an instrument, right? Does singing count? I sing a lot around the house but my kids complain so I stop. I don't know why I don't feel satisfied with mediocre. It feels like I'm supposed to be more than that. Perhaps it's all a consequence of high school, where I was told, "you're so smart!" almost every day for three years. For someone 'so smart', and 'so talented', there must certainly be great things in store. Right?
Wrong.
In reality, the bar set too high discourages me from even making an effort. As a parent, I suppose the lesson is never to label the child, even with positive labels. Label behaviors instead. That action was kind. That behavior was brave. That choice was smart. This builds self-esteem in children without destroying their sense of satisfaction with life.
(Great, now I'm giving parenting advice? Oh the irony.)
For me, the daily practice is beginning with something - anything - small. I can't look at the entirety of the task or project lest I get overwhelmed and defeated before I've begun.
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