My son just received his park district basketball team assignment and it has me wondering. While I have seen great value in these community sports programs, I am concerned about the way the teams are put together. As an educator and a parent, I have some questions about the way these organizations function. I wonder if the jury-rigging of the teams is really for the kids’ benefit or for the glory of the adults who coach them.
Each time a coach calls our house or the email arrives with a schedule and roster, my son’s first question is, “Who is on my team?” As we move from game to game, the composition of the teams is always an interesting and sometimes disturbing revelation. I am a classroom teacher and I know how difficult it is to put together “even” groups. Kids change and grow. A mediocre player one season may turn into a strong player the next. Yet, I have never been in a league where the distribution of kids was balanced.
Most of the leagues in our community use a draft to put together teams. Of course the coaches’ kids are on their team. This gives coaches a great deal of control of the team and clearly creates customized groups. There are seven boys my son’s grade in our neighborhood. He has been in class with all of them throughout the years. However, for all the team sports he has played and all the teams he has been on, he has only been with one of these boys on one team – ever! All of these boys have been in most, if not all of the same leagues. We are talking about twice as many teams than classes at school. How is this possible?
So my child gets to make new friends. So my child is not as proficient in sports as these other boys. Each season, these boys’ teams, the ones their fathers coach, are the fantastic teams. They are the teams that have several very athletically talents kids. They are the teams that have three skilled pitchers, or boys who are very tall, or extra older boys. While every coach will tell you that winning is not the focus, learning is the focus, the team composition reveals the truth of the matter.
My kids have had a wide range of coaches and all of them have been well intentioned. However, some have been more skilled than others. Only some are good at communicating with parents. Only a handful are good at connecting with the kids. And very few are good coaches. Not that long ago, we had a coach who made sure that each player got to try each position frequently. He had a line up ready in advance and printed out and posted on the fence. The strongest and weakest players all got chances to be in the “plum” spots. He affirmed all the children and complimented them far more than he pointed out problems. When he did point out issues, he instructed and demonstrated. He was not a professional teacher but I think he may have missed his calling. His gentle shouts from the bench were ones of encouragement and praise. The composition of the team was secondary, the coach made sure of that. However, this is the exception far more than the rule.
Children’s sports can teach so many important lessons. They can teach kids about exercise and teamwork. They can be about navigating relationships and learning skills. They can be a balance to the intensity of academic study. Or they can be about doing what it takes to win and learning who is on top and who sucks. Kids (and some adults) might make it about the later. It is adults’ obligation to guide them to the former. Can we let go of grabbing the “good” kids? Can we put the skill need before the social need? Can winning take a back seat to fair play and love of the game? Community sports programs: please put the children’s needs first!
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Friday, October 8, 2010
Fostering Children's Autonomy
My nine-year-old son sat at the kitchen table and looked like he was about to cry. In front of him was a luscious piece of chocolate cake in a plastic container. For ten minutes, he struggled to get the container open. Behind him was his frazzled grandmother, with her hands extended to relieve the little guy of his frustration and give him the delicious dessert. The mean and evil father (me) had prevented her from helping by uttering the simple words, “Let him do it himself.”
Yes, it would have been easier to just open the box for my son. Yes, he would have been happier if his grandmother had rushed to his rescue. He would have adored his daddy even more than he did when I gave him the special dessert. So what is the downside of helping a little kid open a difficult container? Everything.
I want a great deal for my children. Of course I want them to be happy. It would be nice if they had good feelings about their parents. But more than these, I want them to grow up to be competent, contributing, independent adults. Problem solving is the heart of autonomy. Self-respect and confidence are its offspring. This is the core of what I believe as a parent and as a teacher. My prime directive is: Do nothing that undercuts the independence of the child. Or put in the positive: do everything possible to foster the child’s ability to be self-reliant.
How do our children learn that they have power? What is the nature of that power? Too often, we see children manipulating adults, often their parents or teachers. Screams of, “I hate you!” or “You don’t love me” are a kind of emotional blackmail and kids learn its effectiveness. Shows of helplessness, tears, and tantrums frequently succeed in getting children out of challenging situations. What have we taught them?
Children learn that their power consists of manipulating us to use our power on their behalf; it must be begged, stolen or tricked from us. They do not have any power inherently. Is that what we want? Is that true? Is that good?
Where does self worth come from? It comes from competence! We may assist our children in solving problem and guide them to solutions, but when we do it for them, we are robbing them of the experience of learning how to problem solve.
Instead of doing the homework for my daughter, I asked her questions about it. I helped her find her own method of problem solving and her own solutions, which were not the ones I would have chosen but they worked just the same. I helped her to figure out the steps instead of telling her what they were. It took some time and lots of patience, but the end result was a child who felt good that she met the challenge and could do it without daddy’s help the next time (which she did!).
We rationalize coming to our children’s rescue. They are so busy, the task is unreasonable, he is so stressed, it makes my life better and on and on. Underneath all of these excuses is that same set of parent centered values: it serves my needs, I want my child to like me, or perhaps it will make my child happier (at least in the short run). These are short sighted, selfish and superficial.
There are times when opening the child’s cake container is what a parent must do. I am not 100% consistent and almost every rule has an exception. However, it is the larger pattern that shapes our kids. Do they expect that, when they run into trouble, they will be bailed out? Do they take initiative and anticipate challenges that may be ahead of them? Do they rely on parental power or do they develop their own?
I quietly coached my son, “You tried that way of opening the box already. What is another way you might open it?” I encouraged him to see how other people had opened their boxes. I gave him time to be frustrated. Yes, he opened the box himself, although it felt like it took a year. Then, he looked up and said, “I can!”
Yes, it would have been easier to just open the box for my son. Yes, he would have been happier if his grandmother had rushed to his rescue. He would have adored his daddy even more than he did when I gave him the special dessert. So what is the downside of helping a little kid open a difficult container? Everything.
I want a great deal for my children. Of course I want them to be happy. It would be nice if they had good feelings about their parents. But more than these, I want them to grow up to be competent, contributing, independent adults. Problem solving is the heart of autonomy. Self-respect and confidence are its offspring. This is the core of what I believe as a parent and as a teacher. My prime directive is: Do nothing that undercuts the independence of the child. Or put in the positive: do everything possible to foster the child’s ability to be self-reliant.
How do our children learn that they have power? What is the nature of that power? Too often, we see children manipulating adults, often their parents or teachers. Screams of, “I hate you!” or “You don’t love me” are a kind of emotional blackmail and kids learn its effectiveness. Shows of helplessness, tears, and tantrums frequently succeed in getting children out of challenging situations. What have we taught them?
Children learn that their power consists of manipulating us to use our power on their behalf; it must be begged, stolen or tricked from us. They do not have any power inherently. Is that what we want? Is that true? Is that good?
Where does self worth come from? It comes from competence! We may assist our children in solving problem and guide them to solutions, but when we do it for them, we are robbing them of the experience of learning how to problem solve.
Instead of doing the homework for my daughter, I asked her questions about it. I helped her find her own method of problem solving and her own solutions, which were not the ones I would have chosen but they worked just the same. I helped her to figure out the steps instead of telling her what they were. It took some time and lots of patience, but the end result was a child who felt good that she met the challenge and could do it without daddy’s help the next time (which she did!).
We rationalize coming to our children’s rescue. They are so busy, the task is unreasonable, he is so stressed, it makes my life better and on and on. Underneath all of these excuses is that same set of parent centered values: it serves my needs, I want my child to like me, or perhaps it will make my child happier (at least in the short run). These are short sighted, selfish and superficial.
There are times when opening the child’s cake container is what a parent must do. I am not 100% consistent and almost every rule has an exception. However, it is the larger pattern that shapes our kids. Do they expect that, when they run into trouble, they will be bailed out? Do they take initiative and anticipate challenges that may be ahead of them? Do they rely on parental power or do they develop their own?
I quietly coached my son, “You tried that way of opening the box already. What is another way you might open it?” I encouraged him to see how other people had opened their boxes. I gave him time to be frustrated. Yes, he opened the box himself, although it felt like it took a year. Then, he looked up and said, “I can!”
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