Constructive Criticism?

I have very high standards and values, and I wanted to instill these educational, behavioral, and moral standards and values in my children.  I felt a deep obligation to teach my children how to conduct themselves properly.  This duty required me, I thought, to correct misbehavior with constructive criticism.  My criticism, of course, was well-intentioned.  I criticized because I was concerned about my children’s future.  I wanted them to improve, and succeed in a competitive world.

Consequently, if my child brought home a B-, he would get the lecture about a little bit of extra effort could make it an A.  If she wanted to wear a too-short skirt, she got the lecture about dressing modestly.  If a bad word came out of his mouth, I jumped to the lecture on proper language.  I quickly pointed out when their rooms weren’t clean enough, when their chores weren’t done quickly enough or good enough, when their friends were questionable, when they stayed out too late, when they were on the phone too long.  I told her when a dress made her look fat, when he was wasting his money, when her makeup was on too thick.  I told them what they needed to do differently to be better.

The "Look"

I was careful to criticize the action and not the child, to show them how they could improve.  I was sure my criticism was constructive.  In fact, often I didn’t see it as criticism at all, but as parental instruction and motherly advice.  But my children saw it differently.  I saw one child’s defiance, another’s unwillingness to communicate, another’s tendency to shift the blame to someone or something else.  I did not see that these reactions were a result of my criticism.

Somehow, my children did not feel empowered nor encouraged by my criticism.  Criticism did not bring out the best in them.  It did not encourage a loving affectionate relationship.  It did make them feel resentful and “put down”.  I remember one day when my teen-aged daughter said, “Mom, you always think I am so bad.  I’m better than most of the kids in my high school.”  Instead of listening to her, I went to the lecture about not being content with average.

Criticism and punishment led to anger and defiance,

 or secretiveness.

 I felt increasingly justified in my criticism and disapproval, and my children felt increasingly justified in their resentment or in hiding their actions.

Then I read Steven Covey’s book, The 7 Habits of Highly Effective Families.  One thing he said really struck a chord.  “Seek first to understand, and then to be understood.”  I had been trying so hard to make sure they understood my standards and values, that I never took time to listen to them, their concerns, their beliefs, their standards and their values.

Changing was hard and far from instantaneous.  It is hard to teach without drawing attention to the faults.  But I remember when I was a child.  After cleaning my room, my mother came in and pointed out the sock under the bed and the scraps of paper in the corner.  There was no mention of all the things I had cleaned up and all the work I’d done.  In my mind, my good work was invisible to my mother, and I did not feel compelled to work harder. 

As I made the effort to stop pointing out the errors, I found my children already knew my expectations.  I didn’t have to point them out over and over.  What worked better was acknowledging their efforts to meet those expectations.  Praise for what they did well, rather than focusing on where they were less that stellar.

It is still hard for me.  Criticizing is often the first thought that comes to my mind, but more and more I am learning to live from a position of love.  I am happy to say that my children, as they have matured, have forgiven me, they have grown past the traumas I introduced, and we are good friends now.  I have learned to seek to understand where they are coming from, and astonishingly, they teach me.