Monthly Archives: June 2011

The Nemean Lion

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We have a lot of lion stories on this blog! Choose a warm weekend night this spring to tell this one, but first, see if you can find and identify the constellation Leo. Sharing a story under the starry sky is magical, and because you do it in the dark, your child’s imagination is wide open. (We see Leo in the spring in the Northern Hemisphere: if you are in the Southern Hemisphere, you are of course looking for Leo in the autumn sky.)
Mighty Herakles (Hercules to the Romans) was made mad with rage by Hera, the wife of Zeus. In this fit of madness he murdered his wife and children. As punishment and penance, he was

assigned twelve labors, or enormous tasks,  (giving us the word “Herculean” for a huge job). The first of these labors was to slay the dreaded Lion of Nemea.

 

Now, you must understand that Hera and Zeus often quarreled, and they chose favorites among mortals to champion and needled each other through those helpless surrogates. Because the people of Nemea had a shrine to Zeus, Hera had sent a monster to torment them: a lion that was said to be twice the size of normal lions, with a pelt impervious to arrows and blades. Herakles, too, was a favorite of Zeus, which was why Hera had afflicted him with murderous rage.  (We have been discussing internal vs. external locus of control on this blog, recently, with explanation of how children learn to take responsibility for themselves, thus developing self-efficacy.  I’ve also discussed it in the context of Ancient Greece with my reviews of Trojan War books for kids.)
When Herakles reached the woods of Nemea, where the monster had caused such devastation among the people, he quickly found the lion’s den. Discovering that it had two entrances, he blocked one up with a giant stone and then rushed in through the other entrance, wrestling the lion to the ground. The beast roared and struggled, but Herakles gripped it by the throat, strangling it to death. The hero then tried to skin it, but his knife was useless. It wasn’t until he used the lion’s own claw that he succeeded. Herakles ever after used the lion’s impenetrable skin as his own armor. And that was one labor done.
Hera honored the lion by placing him into the sky as the constellation Leo. In reflecting on this story, I think of the mighty Herakles with the lion’s pelt to protect him from physical harm, and it just seems ironic to me. He didn’t need that armor to protect him from the terrifying Nemean Lion, obviously! He had no shortage of physical courage or strength or prowess. What he needed protection from was the manipulation of his emotions and actions by the gods. If I look at the capricious Greek gods as metaphors for my strongest impulses, it seems to me that the armor, the protection, the courage I need is the courage to face my negative emotions (anger, jealousy, fear) without going mad; but more than that, that if I do let my negative emotions run away with me in a destructive way, I then face the consequences of my actions with self-reflection. Taking responsibility for my actions may mean more than performing twelve labors – what, after all, did Herakles get out of all those labors other than even bigger muscles? If we are to be something more than puppets to our emotions, then we must own our mistakes, sit with the knowledge of what we have done or failed to do. We cloak ourselves with the impenetrable armor of money, or technology, or social status to protect us from knowing we have done wrong, and from the necessity of changing our behavior next time.
As a parent, I have tried hard to show K. that “I wasn’t trying to, it was an accident,” is not really a sufficient reply when carelessness or anger cause harm. “The Devil made me do it,” or “It was the will of jealous Hera,” or “I was upset when I said that,” don’t absolve us of responsibility for our actions – whether accidental or deliberate. Neither does rushing off to make amends with some Herculean effort of atonement to show how very very very sorry we are. If nothing is learned, the results will be no different next time and the potential for damage just as great. Carrying around proof of my atonement may only be a way to deflect further punishment and avoid responsibility and maintain an external locus of control.
I’ll try to find Leo in the sky tonight, and point it out to K. while we talk about Herakles and the Nemean Lion. Maybe I’ll ask her what she thinks. Maybe I’ll tell her what I think. Maybe we’ll just look at the stars.

You might want to read: our 5-Minute Courage Workout on Saying I’m Sorry, as well as our long post describing  what is emotional courage.

photograph from Starrynighteducation.com

Courage Question of the Day

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Lion’s Whiskers asks: What life skills do you want to teach your child before he/she leaves home? 
For example: How to make fire…you never know when the Survivor producers may call? How to set the table and say “please” & “thank you”? How to raise money for a worthwhile cause and care about the planet they will inherit?  How to call 911?  How to use a knife in food preparation? How to wash laundry (without everything becoming grey), stain-remove, fold, and actually put it all away?  How to ride a bike or drive a car (safely)!?

Please leave your thoughts in the comments!

The Cheese Stands Alone

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I hit a parenting low point the other day.  I drove a piece of cheese to my son’s middle school.  Just the cheese and I, buckled in safely, driving together across town to attend my son’s French 8 Mardi Gras party.  I wasn’t invited, just the cheese.
The cheese was my cross to bear after being interviewed recently for a parenting magazine about when it is okay to rescue our kids, and deliver the cheese when they forget it, and when it’s not okay.  I’d shared with the magazine writer that I’m coaching my kids to be courageous in life primarily through encouraging an internal locus of control.  For example, I discuss with my kids at the beginning of each year what their responsibilities are and what mine are.  I also offer one free rescue per year.  This year both my kids used their freebie in the first few weeks of school.  I was able to do them that favor. Heck, I was even happy to help.  But I was clear that I would not be doing it again.  Since then, I’ve received no calls from my daughter and three more phone calls from my son begging me, in a pleading tone coupled with long awkward pauses.  “I don’t have any lunch money!” “I forgot to get you to sign my assignment, I’m gonna’ lose 15 points if you don’t sign my assignment today.” “I need my rowing gear.”  I problem-solved with him by phone and got him to identify a few possible solutions, but I didn’t rescue him. I know, I sound hard-core right?  Well, that’s the thing about coaching courageous kids who have a belief and expectancy that they are the masters of their own destiny, as their parent you sometimes have to be hard-core.

Why won’t I rescue my kids? Emergencies are one thing, but delivering cheese is quite another.  Basically, I want them to believe and act as if what happens to them in life is to a great degree within their control.  I want them to learn to rescue themselves.  Yes, random acts of violence do happen, disasters strike, devastating diagnoses are received.  But psychology and social learning research is clear, we are healthier, more powerful, confident, and resilient when we develop an internal locus of control and take responsibility for the circumstances and choices that shape our lives.  This requires courage!

Here’s the thing, none of us is all internal or external in our locus of control.  Everyone forgets things occasionally.  Everyone needs to cut themselves some slack once in awhile.  No one deserves a terrible tragedy befalling them.  But, if we protect our children from experiencing the consequences of their choices and actions, even their memory lapses, we are reinforcing as fact that they are not the masters of their destiny. 

As I’ve written previously, the good news is that we have a lot of influence as parents in helping our child develop a secure, self-motivating, self-discipline-inducing internal locus of control.  The bad news, it’s hard to do!  Here’s my advice:  set-out the family rules clearly, encourage self-discipline and responsibility-taking, build in some room for exceptional exceptions, and be consistent.
So why did I make an exception for the cheese you ask? I accepted responsibility for disregarding the reminder email from his classroom teacher, so it make me weak-willed to decline his request when he called from the bus that morning.  The school staff was kind when I delivered the cheese. I tried to hold my head high.  When I asked if this kind of thing happens often, they said “Too often! Usually it’s the same kids, and their parents send in granny, auntie, and friend reinforcements when they can’t rescue their kid.”
What happened to the cheese?  Well, after we bid our goodbyes, my son heard over the school-wide P.A. system, “Could the person who just took the cheese from the main office please return it?  It’s not your cheese!”  “Oh, My God!” my son responded in his science class, “That’s MY cheese.  Someone took my cheese!”  His teacher, needless to say, thought the scenario totally ridiculous, burst out laughing, and allowed my boy to go get his cheese all on his own. 

I personally respect and love my kids’ teachers because they rarely email me, but instead choose to empower my ‘tween and teen kids with their own school responsibilities.  I think it takes courage for teachers to take on the complaining parent who still expects that our children be spoon-fed.  It was up to us to spoon-feed our infant and to teach him/her to independently use a spoon.  Teachers work hard enough, asking them to also overfunction as our child’s parent, is just too much to ask.

When my son was heading to bed, I asked him if he understood why I had decided to rescue him and bring him the cheese.  “’Cause it was a nice thing to do?  It made you feel like a good mom?”  “Sweet of you to say, but no. I did it because I owned 100% of my part of the problem. I disregarded the email from your teacher. I did not feel in integrity though today and want to make sure it doesn’t happen again. I would strongly suggest that you use your school planner more.” I also asked him, “Do you know what I mean when I say ‘being out of integrity’?”  “Yeah, Mom. You are out of integrity when you have to say something to me twice.”  Busted!
If we make a family rule, explain it clearly to our kids, ask if there are any questions (e.g. “Do you understand this rule?” “Do you understand what’s expected of you?”), and make an agreement as a family to follow through, we shouldn’t need to remind or reprimand. If we do, we are reinforcing an external locus of control in ourselves and our children.  We are, in essence saying “My word doesn’t mean much. You and I aren’t capable of following our own rules; we need help from outside sources.” We then nurture dependence not courage in our kids, and will find ourselves driving a piece of cheese to school. 

Lunch Letters

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Every day since K. arrived in this country at the start of second grade, I put a note in her lunch bag. When her English and her literacy were still limited, these notes consisted of pretty simple statements. “I love you, love Mommy,” or “You are a good girl, love Mommy,” or “Do your best, love Mommy,” were in frequent rotation in big, legible printing. As her reading improved the notes got a little more complex: “Work hard and have fun in school, love Mommy” or “Play fair with your friends at recess, love Mommy.”

By the end of fourth grade, her reading was catching up, and the notes became even more complicated. I printed out a business card-sized form with the following request: “Notice something special about, or do something helpful for, or say something nice to __________ today and tell me about it at dinner.” Then I’d fill in the blank with a classmate’s name. At first I put in the names of the girls in her class. The result was fascinating, because when she turned her gaze in this way to the individual girls in sequence she spent attentive time with them, which strengthened existing friendships and created new ones. She was looking for good qualities, and offering encouraging words, and sharing herself more than usual, and the other children responded with affection.


Where it became very challenging for her at 10-almost-11 was when I started putting in the names of the boys in the class. I started with the easiest boy, the goofy and cheerful one. Even so, it was a struggle for her to admit that there might be admirable qualities in the boys, so I had to fish for them. “Is he good at drawing monkeys?” “Is he a good reader?” “Does he stay in tune when you sing?” “Does he have nice manners?” “Did you ever see him help someone?” For the most part, she will reluctantly admit to one good quality per boy, although whenever I suggest she tell the boy what her observation is she’s likely to roll her eyes or grab her throat and pretend to be choking.

In fifth grade I have added other names to these lunch notes – a teacher, a random first grader, a friend’s mom or dad – and asked her to search for the good in a wider circle. The more we notice what is unique in others, the more we recognize and respect them as people with stories of their own, not just as characters in our own life story.  This is what I was getting at when I wrote about how everyone is a hero. When our social courage and emotional courage are strong, we can reach out to make meaningful connections with other people.  We can even make the conscious choice to step into a secondary role in someone else’s story, to act as a helper or guide or companion, and then return to our own path.  My hope is that K. will find it easier and easier to offer words of praise and congratulation to the people around her as she grows up. It takes courage to encourage others, but I have confidence she can do it. Even with boys.