Dear Families,
Valuing Presence Over Praise
We often talk, both among teachers and with parents, about the idea of praising effort over accomplishment or process over product. This is particularly significant in a progressive school environment, in which we place much greater value on planting the seeds of lifelong curiosity and engagement with learning than we do on immediate demonstration of skills. We believe that it is paramount, particularly at the earliest stages in a child’s educational journey, to nurture a highly engaged, intrinsically motivated relationship with school and with community, because this internal desire to learn, to innovate, and to connect becomes the foundation that bolsters a child’s approach to education and to any challenges that may arise in the future. Praising effort and process over results is a mindset shift that is central to laying a positive and sturdy foundation for a life of learning and accomplishment.
I often think, however, about a study that challenges us to stretch this mindset beyond praise altogether. Over the course of three decades, Bruce E. Brown and Rob Miller surveyed college and professional athletes, asking them about their best and worst memories of playing sports as children. Two resoundingly consistent answers came through in their results. The worst childhood memories were most often of the ride home from a game with their parents. Generally, this wasn't due to any of the extreme responses that we might think of as embodying the most objectionable behavior of parents in the bleachers, but rather from the simple parental urge to talk about the game "before the sweat has dried on their child's uniform."
The best memories, on the other hand, were not of victories or accolades, but of adults saying simply, “I love to watch you play.” These questions were being asked of highly accomplished players, so it is particularly important to note that the feeling children gain from moments when we resist any praise or critique and simply share our love of witnessing their experiences, does not dampen motivation or achievement. Rather it may amplify both by allowing children to feel our unconditional love and to truly take ownership over their own efforts. (Grandparents, as it turns out, are often better at conveying this sense of pleasure in simply being able to watch, without concern for the results). This goes beyond praising effort and serves as an important reminder of the vital role that our simple presence plays in our children’s development and emerging sense of self.
Toni Morrison spoke of this idea powerfully as well. She said:
“It’s interesting to see when a kid walks in a room, your child or anybody else’s child, does your face light up? That’s what they’re looking for...When my children used to walk into the room when they were little, I looked at them to see if they had buckled their trousers or if their hair was combed or if their socks were up. And so you think that your affection and your deep love is on display because you’re caring for them. It’s not. When they see you, they see the critical face. What’s wrong now? But then, if you [try], as I tried from then on…let your face speak what’s in your heart. Because when they walked in the room I was glad to see them. It’s just as small as that.”
Is there really anything more powerful in life than having someone whose face lights up when they see us, whose pure pleasure in our company is palpable?
I was reminded again of the coaches survey and of Toni Morrison’s words this week when I read this article on interviews with people who have been highly successful and have made a significant difference in the world. They were asked about the most important lessons they learned from their parents. The lessons they highlighted were not rooted in a push toward high ambition or success or even hard work. They were: the importance of having an open heart, of being present for others, and of “stepping up” for the people we love. None of the people interviewed for the article shared easy childhood stories. In fact, each of them is filled with adversity, and certainly there is a lesson there as well about resilience. But it seems the most significant lesson was not about the thick skin that developed for these people through adversity, but rather the wisdom and compassion that can emerge out of vulnerability and the primary importance of the love that is found there.
We live in a culture that constantly pressures us to feel that parenting is about perfection—providing perfect experiences for our children, perfecting our interactions with them, and yearning for perfection in their accomplishments. And yet so many people who have experienced objectively dramatic success in life remind us, on the other side of that success, that they arrived there through highly imperfect lives, in which the common thread is seeds of unconditional love and presence.
When we are tempted to offer either praise or criticism, it may be far more impactful to take a moment simply to notice whether our face is reflecting scrutiny or light and to remind our children that we just love to watch them play.
Shabbat shalom,
Alicia