Photo by PRO, license.
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.
I wanted them to live up to their wonderful potential.
Consequently, if my child brought
home a B-, he would get the lecture about how a little bit of extra effort
could make it an A. If she wanted to
wear a skirt that was too short, 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
promptly noticed 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 her make-up was
garish, and him when he was wasting his money.
I told them what they needed to do differently to be better.
I thought I was doing it right. I was careful to criticize the action and not
the child, just 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 me these attitudes were something else to
criticize. I didn’t see that it was a
result of my criticism.
Somehow, my criticism did not empower
or encourage my children. 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 teenaged
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.
Experts1 say that parents
should spend the majority of parent-child interactions as connecting, and only
a small portion as correcting. We
usually tend to reverse that. If we need
to correct, we should as soon as possible afterward do some positive playful
interaction to help us connect.
Criticism and punishment led to anger
and defiance, or secretiveness and withdrawal.
I felt increasingly justified in my criticism and disapproval, and my
children felt increasingly justified in their resentment and rebelliousness.
Photo by Tony Alter
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.
Change wasn’t instantaneous, but I am
happy to say that they have forgiven me, they have grown past the traumas I
introduced, and we are good friends now.
I have learned to understand where they are coming from. And, much to my surprise, I learn from them.
1. Karyn Purvis Institute of Child
Development – Trust Built Relational Intervention
