“Pushing Too Hard”

Mark Shriver wrote a memoir about his father, Sargent Shriver. As Mark’s dad was nearing the end of his life and was suffering from Alzheimer’s, Mark took him to a lacrosse game that his 10-year-old daughter, Molly, was playing in. Mark tells the story:

The day dad came to her lacrosse game, he sat smiling and marveling at the scene in front of him: young people in the prime of their lives excelling in the sport on a gorgeous day. That is what he would’ve thought 10 years prior, I knew, but now I assumed he just sat there smiling as the sun was warm on his face and he was with us.

I, on the other hand, was constantly yelling instructions. About halfway through the first half, dad suddenly said to me, “Hey there.”

I looked at him. He wasn’t smiling, and I became instantly alarmed that something bad was happening. He looked straight at me. “You’re yelling a lot,” he said.

“I know dad,” I said, relieved that there wasn’t a crisis. “This is a really close game. Molly has to move or else we could lose.”

A minute or two passed before he said, “Hey there. Did I yell like that at you, too?”

I looked at him. He hadn’t spoken in an accusatory tone. It was just a matter-of-fact question. I was stunned. Had he suddenly remembered that I was his son? Did he know Molly was my daughter, his granddaughter? I didn’t think he had that cognitive capacity anymore.

“Did I?” He asked again, never once raising his voice or changing its tone.

I didn’t answer. “Of course you didn’t, Dad,” I thought.

Even when I was getting crushed in high school tennis, he never said a negative word. Even when I didn’t start for the first three games of my senior year on my high school football team, he had never yelled or expressed disappointment.

“No, you didn’t,” I said to him. He smiled.

“Good,” he said and turned back to resume watching the game and smiling in the sunlight.

What had just happened? I asked myself. Was he telling me not to yell? Was that a moment of insight, of clarity, of him being my father again, or were they just random words?

As we drove home I tried to engage him, to see if he could come back one more time to be there with us, but he didn’t bite. Instead, I talked with Molly – praised her and analyzed certain plays for her. It was the best postgame trip home we had ever had.

Why are so many of us parents like Mark Shriver, relentlessly pushing our kids to achieve in the sports world? And who will correct us when we need correcting?

Many children today feel intense pressure from their parents, their teachers, their culture to perform. Many of them believe that to be successful they have to be extraordinary. The bar is set way too high for many children today. Can we let them be children?

 

 

James Harrison II

How to Encourage Children 

Two weeks ago I watched an interview with Tiger Woods at the Wyndham Championships. He had just finished his second round and was leading the tournament. The interviewer asked several technical questions about his round which Tiger answered methodically. But when the interviewer asked, “How were the crowds?”, Tiger’s smile erupted: “They were great!” Tiger has been through some rough waters in his personal and professional life, and hasn’t heard many cheers lately. The crowd’s praise temporarily eased his pain.

I had a similar experience last week when I was playing pickup basketball at the “Y”. As we were negotiating the teams, one of the better big players announced: “I want Bernie as my point guard.” That comment made me feel ridiculously good! At the age of 67 it feels good to be wanted on the court.

God designed us with a need for praise. The problem we looked at in my last post was that too much of the praise that we give is “junk” praise, praise separated from meaningful accomplishment. My basketball friend’s request to have me on his team was based on my ability to feed him the ball in a position where he can score. His praise was meaningful because I knew it had a basis in reality. In that last post, when James Harrison returned his sons’ participation trophies, he wasn’t denying their need for encouragement.

So how do we praise our kids? The Apostle Paul provides a good model. In all of the letters he wrote to churches he began with praise—even with churches that had little praiseworthy behavior. He could always find something they did well. He eventually dealt with their problems, but he didn’t start there. If you want to share a negative message about your child’s performance, it will be received better if you start with some genuine praise.

Surprisingly, Jesus seldom praised people—he saved his praise for truly remarkable deeds. When a Roman soldier demonstrated faith in Jesus’s ability to heal his servant, Jesus marveled at his faith: “Truly I tell you, I have not found anyone in Israel with such great faith.” When we praise our kids too often, praise loses its power to encourage truly noteworthy behavior.

Furthermore, we parents should not over-praise athletic achievement. Educator and coach Bruce Svare praised his dad: “I am almost certain that my father was more proud of my academic accomplishments than he ever was of anything I did on the basketball court or football field.” Think about it: Do you show (at least) as much interest in your child’s academics as you do in her sports? Even when our sons were in college we tried to maintain a balance during our visits to campus—we not only watched their athletic contests but also attended some of their classes. 

Finally, our praise should point our children to earning God’s praise. You might say: “I am sure that God was pleased when you didn’t complain when the referee called that questionable foul on you.” Or, “God was certainly smiling when you didn’t retaliate against that girl who slammed you to the ground.”  God’s praise alone will wholly satisfy a child’s need for approval.