To Suffer For Their Sake

Posted by Brooke | February 4, 2009 | 37 Comments

Every week on Tuesday, the doorbell rings at exactly 5 p.m. Standing on our porch is the piano teacher—and depending on the day, she appears wicked witch or best friend, her invisible costume entirely dependent upon one factor: if we are prepared.

This week on Tuesday, at exactly 4:30 p.m., my oldest was in hysterics and the tears slid out of her puffy eyes, and her breathing was hiccupped and her nose was leaky because of one simple thing: she didn’t practice.

At all.

I hugged her. I tried to help her stop crying. I squeezed onto the piano bench next to her and we ran through her scales together. Which was nearly impossible with all those tears, and yet we persisted. I promised her that her teacher wouldn’t be mad, that she wouldn’t be mean, that nothing dire would come from the impending thirty minutes of doom—but she didn’t believe me and dissolved again into traumatic wails and at that point: there were no more scales.

By the time her teacher arrived, my daughter had composed herself enough to open the door, to walk towards the piano. But she plead with me quietly in her heavy-lidded gaze:

“Please tell my teacher for me.”

I paused.

Do I tell?

Do I let my daughter tell the teacher herself? Do I let her deal with the consequences of what happens when you don’t practice, not-a-once?

* * *

One year, in the fall, when I just had one baby (and she was still a baby), and I looked to my older neighbors with eight-year-olds and toddlers and multiple children as mentors and compatriots, I had an evening exchange over a pile of yellow leaves on the sidewalk.

My neighbor told me how she’d been to her son’s school that day and that as she was walking out, she saw her son being bullied, pushed, yelled at.

“What did you DO?!” I gasped.

“What could I do?” She asked, composed, but her eyes were wet.

“Um. You could go smack that kid that hurt your son?”

And everyone around me, every mother years hence on her mothering journey, told me as they shook their heads sadly: “No she couldn’t.”

But why?

* * *

On a fast Sunday it was hot outside under sweltering sun but the building was already full and bright at nine in the morning, the air conditioning the reason one sister hugged a cardigan around her shoulders even as she cried at the pulpit.

She relayed the trial of a middle son. There was a phone call in the middle of the night—sobbing, prayers, pleading to get better on one half, pleading to come home on the other. There was a mission call waiting, there was a bed vacant at the MTC; there was a mother with a heart to mend even while her hands were tied by her faith.

“More that anything I wanted to tell him to just come home, I wanted to hold him in my arms…” And here her voice cracked: “But I can’t.”

* * *

We all have to suffer. Suffering is one of those bittersweet complexities intrinsic to life, and eventually, the icy finger that touches us will touch the fleshy, soft youth of our children. I remember reading somewhere that having kids is like having your heart walk around outside your body—and if this be the case, then the suffering of our children will be suffering we have to endure too. Maybe more so.

How pained do you think the Father was to watch His Only Begotten nailed to a cross? How difficult for the mother who watches her children waste away in sickness? For the grandmother who watches her child suffer that same loss?

There are trials we can’t anticipate and certainly ones that we wish we could take away but can’t. And in these both parent and child seek the Lord through faith and prayer—knowing but perhaps not remembering how the Lord will always bless them.

But what about the other things?

One time seventy, Elder Alexander B. Morrison said, “I believe our spiritual strength is directly related to the extent to which our souls are stretched.” And Elder Joseph B. Wirthlin adds: “Sometimes the very moments that seem to overcome us with suffering are those that will ultimately suffer us to overcome.”

Heaven knows I don’t want to deny my kids this growth. But I find the instinct to protect them and make things okay a temptation more persistent than I can oft’ bear and so I do tell the piano teacher (and I’ve told the coach and the teacher and the principal, for I’m reigning queen of the disclaimer and this has found its way into the lives of my offspring). Moreover, I probably would have gone to defend the honor of my child on the playground.

(And totally embarrassed him in the process.)

For God, there is a seemingly divine selection in His intervention: He knows what will be for our good, He knows when to jump in or stay His hand. His love is perfect; His discernment ennobled by knowing the beginning and the end. As a girl just attempting to get through today, to make sure I don’t muck my kids up too much from who they’re supposed to become, I wonder over this balance.

How do we balance loving them (fixing it) with loving them (allowing a bit of suffering to occur)? And how do we balance interceding with allowing them to endure trails come about possibly by their own accord? Especially if we know it might be for their own good?

Category: Daily Special

Comments

37 Responses to “To Suffer For Their Sake”

Sue
February 4th, 2009 @ 10:26 am

I don’t know, but this was just beautiful Brooke. You made me think. Thank you.
jenny
February 4th, 2009 @ 10:27 am

This is a great question/post.
It is a fine line we walk as mothers.
There were times as I was growing up that I wished my mother would have stepped in a little more to protect me, fight for me. But I was the oldest and she was painfully trying to do what was best for me. (I didn’t care so much for the intervention, I think I was looking more for the “I’m on your side all the way, honey, no matter what.”) What was the right choice? I’m not sure. She went to bat a lot more for my younger brothers and sisters. Maybe she just couldn’t bear the heartache anymore, who knows.
I carefully, carefully (and often prayerfully) consider when I should intervene. If I didn’t stop myself, it would be all the time. I never want to see my children sad or hurt. But I know that I won’t always be there, and they will have to learn coping/healing mechanisms for those situations.
One of our sons has experienced lots of bullying. (It makes me furious with a lot parents, really. Can’t they just raise nice children?) And we have intervened somewhat by notifying the school in an anonymous sort of way. (There are other kids being bullied too.) It has helped somewhat, the teachers are more aware.
This is just one thing.
Life will be full of these situations.
And I have 5 children.
It sometimes seems overwhelming to me, that I will have to decide over and over again when to hold myself back for the benefit of my child’s growth and experience here on this earth.
I am grateful for the example of Heavenly Father and his only begotten son. I do think about that when I must let my children suffer. It gives me strength and confirmation that it sometimes needs to be this way.

Thanks for this post
eljee
February 4th, 2009 @ 10:42 am

For me, it’s easier to let my child take care of it on their own if it’s their mistake or choice that caused the pain. In the piano example, I would empathize with my child, but I would not be covering for them to the teacher. I would stand by their side and encourage, but not excuse.

(As an aside, I can almost guarantee that the lesson was just as torturous for the teacher as it was for your child. I’ve been a piano teacher, and there is nothing more tedious than trying to get through a lesson with a child who has not practiced.)

It’s harder for me to not want to “fix it” when someone else has done the damage. It’s really hard to see others hurt our kids and not step in.
angie f
February 4th, 2009 @ 11:15 am

My oldest son has hit the age when moms are no longer cool. So, I can imagine how well things would go down if his very uncool mom intervened on his behalf where bullying is concerned. Mere uncoolness aside, the bullying wouldn’t stop; intervention unless done very carefully could easily just escalate the bullying and no mom wants that. I have yet to figure out this situation very well.
I agree with eljee that it’s far easier to let a child suffer the consequences of their own actions than for bad stuff that just happens. But learning to make good choices in the face of both is essential for the development of their fledgeling spirits. I have seen too often what happens to children whose parents remove natural consequences in an effort to avoid pain. Natural consequences are a big thing with me and my parenting style. I believe very deeply that it is essential for everyone to understand that you can make your choices, but the consequences choose themselves and you have to take your lumps. Because mommies will not always be there to prevent the fall and at some point this most essential lesson of agency must be learned. It will be learned and far better to learn it with unpracticed piano lessons, undone chores or a failing grade than with an unintended pregnancy, a DUI fatality or a drug overdose.
Claudia
February 4th, 2009 @ 11:57 am

I don’t think my mother ever intervened for me. If she did I didn’t know about it. I have nothing to blame her for. I have nothing to resent and no one to take responsibility for my choices except for myself.

This question goes to the heart of one asked some days ago about why, if God knows what we need, do we have to pray and ask for what we want. It is interesting to look at it from the opposite perspective.
Brenda
February 4th, 2009 @ 12:08 pm

I have thought about this many, many times. I am one who wants to make everything better. I don’t want my children to suffer some of the things I suffered growing up; humiliation, teasing, insecurities. But I know that we all must go through that to some extent. It’s experiencing the good with the bad, as the scriptures say.

Thanks for the beautiful post.
Sue
February 4th, 2009 @ 12:31 pm

Interesting post!

I am of the “natural consequences” persuasion. This doesn’t mean I have never intervened, it just means that I won’t do so unless I’m convinced it will actually be helpful to my child’s growth. Mostly, I’m convinced that I’m doing them a big favor to allow them to learn how to deal with the little things so that when the big things come along they will be adequately prepared.

It isn’t easy to watch them struggle through things, but watching them struggle through a few things as children is easier than watching them grow up to be adults with no coping skills. Now, THAT’s a truly painful thing to see…and you still can’t “fix” it for them. People have to learn to stand on their own two feet, a skill which is best learned by the young, while living at home with supportive parents.

I like what eljee says about standing by a child’s side to encourage but not to excuse. This is my philosophy exactly.

And so, no, I probably would not have spoken to the piano teacher for my child. But I would have really, really wanted to…so I completely understand the impulse. (And by the way, sometimes I gave in to that impulse in spite of myself…but not too often.)

=)
Michelle L.
February 4th, 2009 @ 1:03 pm

Gorgeous writing on a heartfelt topic.

I love the quote from Elizabeth Stone– “Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body.”

Motherheartache is so painful for me. I want to protect them from so many hurts. For me, the balance is letting my children know how much I love them, how much I hurt for them and then stepping back.
Annie
February 4th, 2009 @ 1:44 pm

Beautifully said.

I remember the story of Pres. Hinckley’s mother, when he was caught skipping school and needed a note from home. She wrote “Please excuse Gordon’s absence yesterday. His action was simply an impulse to follow the crowd.” Which made him feel terrible and he never did it again

Perhaps it is the content of what is said to the teacher, not whether you or your daughter says them?

Saying “My daughter is anxious today because she didn’t practice this week” would simply be stating the fact and giving your daughter the words to use next time herself. (And maybe suggesting that at the end of her lesson she just give a simple apology “I’m sorry…I’ll be more ready next week”)

Saying “Oh…we’ve been so busy…she really wanted to practice but then things came up…she had a dance recital and then she’s had a cold” and excusing the non-practicing is modeling scapegoating and not taking responsibility. {And we all know teachers notice when there’s been no practicing!}

My husband coaches our daughter’s basketball team and, while many of the parent coaches yell from the sidelines and argue with the refs, I’ve noticed Greg doesn’t. If you asked him, he’d shrug and say “there’s no better teacher than the ball. They’ve got to experience it to understand.” It is difficult to watch children try and fail. But it *is* part of life’s teachings for them (balanced with our jobs as parents to protect from harm and guide and walk beside them). Motherheartache still comes though!
chelle
February 4th, 2009 @ 2:51 pm

Brooke, I just sent Zach to a lesson this morning with not even one “real” practice for the week. I’ve found that I have to fight the compulsion to go to the teacher and make excuses for MYSELF as the mother. My mother guilt is so burdensome at times (thinking that if I ran a tighter ship around here, I would’ve had him down there practicing more consistently). I have to fight the urge to explain it away— because sometimes it’s not even about my children and their piano education anymore, but more about my own “mother guilt”.

Heaven help ‘em! And me! : )

This was a beautiful and most thought provoking post.
Brooke
February 4th, 2009 @ 4:21 pm

thanks for the official quote, michelle.

and thanks to everyone for confirming what i feel in my heart: that the struggles will be easier to suffer through when they’re the small things, like piano lessons.

(i’ll probably be in therapy by the time any of my little ones have real issues…)
Justine
February 4th, 2009 @ 4:45 pm

It’s pain almost anyway you dice it. That’s the part that gets me.
Blue
February 4th, 2009 @ 4:56 pm

I admit that my spin on some kinds of suffering is a little different than yours. For example, a piano teacher who *ever* resembles the wicked witch? that’s about as necessary as living with a tooth ache. no matter if she can pull off “best friend” from time to time…that’s the kind of mind trip that puts kids in therapy as adults.

if the teacher is so horrid that the joy of learning and the wonder of music is no longer part of the experience, it’d be time for me to find a new teacher. i just don’t have much tolerance for grownups who make my kids feel like dirt. cause there’s a difference between encouraging kids and allowing them to learn through their experiences, and not intervening when they’re taking a beating emotionally. being bullied is never acceptable in my opinion. ymmv, but i just have a different response to certain kinds of experiences.
Brooke
February 4th, 2009 @ 5:12 pm

actually, her teacher is not horrid. not in the least. she’s definitely more best friend– because my daughter is usually well prepared.

and justine- i KNOW. you’re right on, sister.
Blue
February 4th, 2009 @ 5:26 pm

okay, i clearly took your description (and related it to my interpretation of your daughter’s dread) literally. it’s probably my muddled weary head and the fact that i’m sick today…not thinking (or writing) as clearly as i otherwise might. sorry!
Jill
February 4th, 2009 @ 5:26 pm

This is beautiful Brooke. I wish I had the answers. When someone comments to me “oh…so you’re just a mom?”. I want to give them essays like this which show just how much thinking goes into being a mother. Hardest job on earth!

My oldest just had his first heartbreak yesterday. I received a quick text from 2nd period…”Plz check me out…I need a lunch date.” Sometimes just being there to listen and commisserate is enough.

Lovely post from lovely girl.
Kalli
February 4th, 2009 @ 5:42 pm

i have no freaking idea. my kid is probably in for it.

but i love you. and i loved this. and now i have to go contemplate all of these things i hadn’t even thought about yet.
Brooke
February 4th, 2009 @ 5:54 pm

blue, i might also think that her piano teacher is such a dear because i DID grow up with a wicked witch piano teacher who TRIED her best (and usually succeeded) in making me cry weekly. xo
Brooke
February 4th, 2009 @ 5:57 pm

jill, i always hope my kids will ask for lunch dates and will overall just let me know what they need. you’re lucky.
Kim
February 4th, 2009 @ 10:09 pm

Oh how I needed this tonight. My 4 year old just started preschool today. He is a month behind the other kids since we just found out about this great opportunity yesterday. I want to protect him and keep him innocent and my baby for as long as possible. I want to be in the classroom with him and be the only one who disciplines him. I want to make sure that the teachers understand completely what a wonderful child he is and I want to protect him from everything.
But, I can’t. And it is so hard. I don’t want him to struggle like his Dad and I did through school. I want him to be liked and to be accepted and for everything to go so smoothly for him. But, I know if it does he won’t learn, he won’t grow, he won’t be stretched the way he needs to be.
It is so hard letting them grow up and make these decisions and choices and having to face the consequences of their actions, good or bad.
This is the hard part of parenthood. The part I dislike most.
Like I said, thank you for your words. They are what I needed tonight as I sit here contemplating the same things.
FoxyJ
February 4th, 2009 @ 10:38 pm

I like the comments about standing with your child and letting you know they are there, but still helping them feel the consequences of their actions. I also feel the weight of mother guilt–it’s so hard to separate myself from my kids and not assume that their behavior reflects poor mothering (especially because some people make that assumption). My two-year-old was recently experiencing some issues with behaving well in nursery, and it was hard for me because I felt defensive that people assumed he was hitting other children because of bad parenting. It’s a fairly normal stage for kids that age to go through. Anyways, I did manage to get over my defensive reaction and worked something out with the nursery leader. But it was a hard issue to deal with and to realize how bound up in ourselves our children are. My kindergardener is having some struggles with school and it is difficult to figure out how to help her and work with her teacher and all that. But I do know that she needs to learn and she needs to feel the consequences of what she does.
Afton
February 5th, 2009 @ 7:03 am

This is a first time post for me on here, so here we go.

Like most of the posters, I am of the persuasion to let my children suffer the consequences of their actions. It is one the most agonizing things that I have to do as a mother. I know that it is sometimes the only way that they can learn, and so it is something that I have to deal with. My children have been taught correct principles (they are 12 and 10) and they have to be allowed to govern themselves. It’s horrible for me when I get a call from school saying they’ve done they shouldn’t have and I have to say, “Give them the punishment you feel appropriate”. It kills me every time.

There are always times when I do intervene, especially when they are victims of an injustice or bullying. My kids know that I will always be there for them in those instances and will fight for them like a mother bear but they also know that if they do things they shouldn’t, that I won’t bail them out.

The times that are hardest for me, however, are the times I cannot intervene, even if I wanted to.

Also, I always try to remember not to judge parents by their children’s actions, and hope that others will do the same.
jenny
February 5th, 2009 @ 7:48 am

(Back again)
I always love reading the comments. There are a lot of great mothers out there.

I don’t know why, but I feel I need to clarify. When I said we intervened “somewhat” in my son’s bullying incidence, what I mean is we went to the school, instead of what I wanted to do. Which was go to the kids’ homes and throttle them. Or at least lecture them a bit! And our son didn’t really want us to do anything. The “anonymous” intervention was a compromise. Believe me, we take the bullying very seriously. We used to live just a few miles away from Columbine HS, and I watched that fateful day unfold while my oldest was in lockdown at his elementary school.

The last two commenters have also brought up a good topic (maybe a whole other post??) about being judged good or bad parents by the actions of our children. It’s hard NOT to feel like your kids are an extension of you. Like an extra arm or leg! Its hard to get over our “defensive reaction” because it hurts when we are judged this way. I believe that most mothers are doing the very best they can with the tools and skills that they have. We all love our children. I’ve watched friends be belittled for their parenting skills because their child has severe ADD. Believe me, almost every day brings heartache and they are doing the very best they can for that child. They don’t need the added burden of people judging them as poor parents as well.
Brooke
February 5th, 2009 @ 9:17 am

it is difficult to not “feel like your kids are an extension of you.” but i’ve found it easier to not judge when i realize i have a “perfect” child and a “problem” child– and i can’t take credit for either. i can only hope i help them in the way they need help.

and jenny, personally i think you handled the bullying very well. i love the “anonymous” intervention. especially in the light of columbine, i think you can never be to careful.

and afton, welcome. i loved your insight. especially this part: “My children have been taught correct principles (they are 12 and 10) and they have to be allowed to govern themselves.”

i want to be at that place too. sometimes i wonder if my oldest turning eight will just be a time for me to realize she is indeed accountable for her own actions.
jendoop
February 5th, 2009 @ 10:24 am

What about the message it sends to the child when you interviene for them? It tells them you think they are incapable of dealing with it. If you tell them they can, they can. As often as possible I have my children deal with their own issues. My daughter has had some bullying issues at school, she has a hard time getting the discussion started with her teacher so I email, telling the teacher that my daughter would like to talk to her privately and they work it out. Usually I’m not even privy to the details. And I think that is great. I’m all for independance. It is somewhat un-nerving but I won’t be there the rest of her life the sooner she learns self sufficiency in this way the better.

Often when I have the urge to intervene as I analyze my intentions I find that somewhere in there hides a selfish motivation. A desire to put forth a perfect mother persona. Once when I complimented a mother on her child’s accomplishment she said the accomplishment belonged entirely to the child- that the child did all the work and she did nothing but get out of their way. If the child had failed she wouldn’t claim the failure so she wouldn’t claim the success either. It made me realize that although our children are a part of our eternal family they are separate eternal beings with their own agency and purpose. Claiming too much of our children’s responsibility or success hinders their ability to know the truth by realizing consequences. They need to know for themselves the bitter from the sweet even at a tender age, as applicable to their age.
mormonhermitmom
February 5th, 2009 @ 10:32 am

I remember when I didn’t practice a whole week. The teacher could tell, and she didn’t give me a lesson that day. I had to sit at her piano and do the practicing I should have done during the week. She sat there and watched me. I was so embarrassed, never did that again.
Afton
February 5th, 2009 @ 12:32 pm

Jenny – I am the “Queen of Defensive Reaction”. I always have to make sure I take a step back before launching into “Medusa Mode”!

Brooke – I’m not perfect at the “letting them govern themselves” bit yet. I find once they went to school I really had no choice. It’s really hard, especially when they do the exact opposite of the things you’ve taught them.

Jendoop – I agree with you about the selfish motivations. I hate people looking at the things my children do that are wrong and judging me and my parenting skills on it. It’s fortunate that my kids have no qualms about bursting my “perfect mother” persona which, I guess is supposed to keep me humble. On the other hand, I honestly can say I take little credit for their accomplishments. I am probably more of a hindrance than a help.

As for piano lessons, I could practice until the cows came home and still be petrified of messing up for my piano teacher, which I inevitably did because I was so terrified of messing up. Nice vicious cycle.
Natalie
February 5th, 2009 @ 12:57 pm

Dear Brooke,
Thank you so much for your comment. Honestly, it made my day! I was touched by your post today(I think especially due to the grief I have been catching on my blog recently). My mother somehow (I am not even CLOSE to figuring out her secret) always balances this beautifully, even now that I am “all grown up”. When the haters comment on my blog, I know my mom is going to take a stand on my behalf. But, she never encourages me to quit or step back from the things I believe.
She has always made me suffer the consequences of my own actions, but remained loyal in her unconditional love for me. This made me feel confident and willing to stand firm.

When I had to bury my firstborn child, it ripped my life to shreds. I was in an ugly, dark place for a very long time. I know, without a doubt, I survived (literally) that time due to the things my mother taught me as a child and young adult. No one on this earth could make it better, no one on this earth could take away the hurt. I do not even want to imagine how much worse my situation could have been, had I never learned there are some things that can’t be “fixed” here on earth.

I believe a mother’s instinct to protect her children comes directly from our Heavenly Father. We just have to figure out how to use that instinct the best way for our children, not for anyone else’s. It’s no easy feat, this balancing act, is it? I better go now, I have to email my 5th grader’s teacher…seems my boy failed to turn in two assignments this quarter…I’m pretty sure it’s my fault, I let him skip school to watch the inauguration, and I didn’t doublecheck and make sure he turned in the work he missed…do you think his teacher will believe me??? (No, I’m not kidding, this really is happening.)
Tamlynn
February 5th, 2009 @ 1:44 pm

Beautiful post. I agree that there is a difference between protecting your child from his/her own actions and protecting him/her for something beyond his/her control. For instance, some of the reasons why I pulled my children from the local public school. It is not my child’s fault that the school administration knowingly let a registered sex offender on campus to volunteer in a classroom every week. It is not my child’s fault that her teacher would not start or finish class on time and caused the children to miss 10 minutes of lunch period on a regular basis. That was when my child decided that recess was more important than eating lunch so would not eat so she would have time to play. When the school counselor advised me that my daughter needed to see a therapist to deal with the stress, anxiety, and fear she was experiencing as a direct result of school, it finally dawned on me that drastic measures were needed. Yes, my daughter did get some therapy and it helped. She was in 1st grade.

Um, I really didn’t mean to ramble on so much. Sorry. But the point I was getting at is that now my kids are no longer at that school, they don’t have the opportunities to overcome the little things that they could have control over. Like my daughter asking a classmate not to take the Lord’s name in vain, or my family being an example to the Kindergarten teacher in saying that our children may not taste coffee as part of the sense of taste lesson.

I have shielded them from other potential growth experiences so I have to be conscience of providing them with more opportunities to make their own decisions and take the consequences. But the consequences must be in a realm that is age appropriate and always in a safe and loving environment.

Sorry that was so long.
m&m
February 5th, 2009 @ 5:14 pm

I’m running out the door, but this is a wonderful post.

My thought is that I am trying to be there to love and support and help children through the stuff of life, but to fight the instinct to control or remove consequences, even when they hurt.

Example: Daughters last nite tell me of bullying happening on the playground. Instinct: Go march to the playground and beat those boys up, or at least give the duty a what-for. Decision: Help talk through the issue, help my girls sort through when they should or shouldn’t tell someone.

And tell them that, no matter what, no matter how long it has been since something has happened, they can come talk to me and sort through their thoughts. That as their mom, I will be there to talk to.

But I can’t always fight their battles for them. And I want them to learn to do it themselves, for the very reason that each day takes them one step further from my nest and closer to their own lives.

but I do think the Spirit sometimes might guide us to intervene. I think often, though, that instinct is more something to be tempered and held back than given power.

I dunno. Will read more of the comments later.

Such a lovely, thought-provoking post.
Brooke
February 5th, 2009 @ 5:26 pm

natalie, thank you for sharing your story.

“I do not even want to imagine how much worse my situation could have been, had I never learned there are some things that can’t be “fixed” here on earth.”

i love that– it’s a real-life reminder of why i do need to be stronger in letting my kids experience things: to prepare them for what’s ahead.

and tamlynn: the whole age-appropriate and in a loving environment idea is so true. so true. is there a way to control this? i guess that’s what i’m afraid of, that they’ll be hurt by the consequences.
Brooke
February 5th, 2009 @ 5:29 pm

oooh, m&m: the instinct is something to be tempered… that is great. and simple. it’s like the adage: think before you act.
jana pilkington
February 6th, 2009 @ 11:19 am

it makes me want to cry when i think of my little ones, one day to grow up and think and do for themselves, in a situation that i cant control. not crontrol out of control issues but to steer them in the right direction. make their decissions because i love them and do know better, because i do not want them to venture down a path that will lead them into darkness.

i often wonder how can Heavenly Father stand aside and let us think and reason for ourselves because we are so weak. but i guess HE is perfect and all knowing. and i suspect that he steps in for us much more than any of us realize.

thanks a lot brooke. now i will think of this all day. but thank you, because it was nice to read and made my eyes slightly watery.
Zina
February 9th, 2009 @ 12:43 am

I’m curious what you did mean by “wicked witch” — does the piano teacher express disapproval or anger when your child hasn’t practiced? Is that’s where your daughter’s extreme anxiety was coming from? If so, then I think the PIANO TEACHER is depriving your daughter of the *natural* consequence of not practicing. The natural consequence is not progressing in piano skills, and if the teacher expresses disapproval or anger, she appropriates your child’s ownership of the learning experience and makes it about her (the teacher) rather than about your daughter and her lack of progression. If the teacher can appear completely neutral about the outcome, your daughter will be free to decide how she herself feels about not having practiced (separate from the issue of being concerned about how the teacher may react.) I think what someone else described — for the teacher to ask the child to spend the time practicing or to say there’s no point in having a lesson where no practicing has happened — would be a much better application of a natural consequence; but to be really be effective, it would need to be done in a calm, matter-of-fact way, not in a punitive, angry, or shaming way. Only then does your daughter get to make the kind of unfettered choice about making her own progress towards piano skills that will lead to her “owning” the learning experience and choosing to make it a lifelong pursuit. Of course, allowing that much freedom also implies a real risk that she may decide against piano — which is the kind of risk that real Heavenly-Father-style parenting always entails.

(I do actually think that it’s okay to insist on piano lessons when kids are young, just like we insist on things like going to school or using good table manners — but it’s also wise to choose a very NON-shaming, NON-punitive, unconditionally-kind piano teacher so the child feels as safe and free as possible. And it’s also a simple fact that at some point kids are going to have to and be free to make those choices (piano, school, table manners,) for themselves, so the more real choices (and real, natural consequences) they’ve been allowed to experience when young, the more independent and strong and capable of good decision-making they’re likely to be.)

As for bullying of children, I think zero-tolerance is the ONLY answer. I agree that sometimes direct intervention will escalate the problem, but if going to the school or teacher doesn’t solve it, I believe (just as Tamlynn said) that it’s up to parents to remove kids from the situation and find an alternative. While as adults we do have to deal with unpleasant people and emotional bullying (but we’re adults and hopefully equipped to deal with it,) at the very least none of us (hopefully, here in the States,) has to tolerate physical abuse in our workplaces. Children are the weakest among us and bullying in my opinion is a case where “working it out on their own” is not their job — it’s simply the job of the adults around them to ensure and enforce that their space is kept safe.

All that said, I do strongly believe in letting kids experience consequences *of their actions* and also strongly relate to how hard it is to really let them do that. I’ve had several instances lately (11-year-old son forgetting to come home on time from friend’s house and being grounded, 8-year-old daughter forgetting to ask permission to use computer and having computer time taken away) where my kids’ extreme unhappiness over a consequence made me very tempted to relent — but at the same time I thought their extreme unhappiness probably meant the consequence was effective and appropriate, so I gritted my teeth and bore it.
eljee
February 9th, 2009 @ 8:43 am

I think she explained earlier in the thread that the piano teacher was not actually being a “wicked witch”. When a child (or any of us) know that we have done less than we needed to do in a situation, it’s easy to feel like the person we will be reporting to is just waiting to come down hard on us, when in fact they are not. Our own feelings about ourself affect our perception of the other person.

As a piano teacher, I think that it’s easy to ignore the occasional week of not practicing. It happens to the best of kids and the best of adults too. But if this is a chronic problem, then I do think it’s fine for the teacher to express disapproval. (Not anger.) The child needs to know that their actions affect people other than themselves, and their actions do affect their teacher. Also, sometimes the teacher needs to step up and say something to take the pressure off the parent always having to be the bad guy. I like the natural consequences of having the child sit out their lesson or having them “practice” during their lesson, but I also think it’s perfectly fine for the teacher to say, “You know, this is no more fun for me than it is for you.”
Amanda L.
February 10th, 2009 @ 12:36 pm

I am constantly walking that fine line and letting my children suffer consequences and also paving a nice lovely path for them to walk on for life. As always this is so thought provoking and beautiful. I can never quite think of a reply or comment that is worthy of your essays!
Ashley
February 10th, 2009 @ 1:07 pm

Oh Brooke, thank you, thank you! I sit here with tears in my eyes knowing that I can’t slow down my rapidly growing kids and that their pain will only worsen with age and experience, but that it is mostly for their own good. What a hard thing to balance in their lives as well as our own.