Serving the people of the Archdiocese of Milwaukee
By Donna Pinsoneault - Special to Parenting
My daughter Laura was 9 when she ran headlong into her first gut-level experience with stereotypes.
We'd moved to Houston from Wisconsin and she was having a hard time understanding the thick accent of her Alabama-born teacher. In Wisconsin, Laura had been an eager student. Now she dreaded being called on. Luckily she seldom was, perhaps because Laura's Midwestern accent was equally hard for her teacher to understand.
A semester went by before Laura finally spoke up. During geography class, the teacher announced that the next unit would be about the Great Lakes states. "But we won't have to spend much time on it," the teacher said, "because outside of Chicago, there's nothing up there but cows and Yankee farmers." Everyone in the class laughed.
"That's not true," Laura blurted out. "I came from Milwaukee. We had stores and big buildings, schools and banks and theaters, everything you have here. I hardly ever saw a farmer."
As a result of her outburst, Laura was assigned to write a lengthy report about Milwaukee. When she finished reading it to the class, a boy named Billy said, "My dad went to Milwaukee once on a business trip, and he said everybody there has a beer belly." The class laughed.
"That's not true," Laura said quietly and sat down.
Stereotyping assumes all people in a group have the same characteristics. Laura's teacher used a stereotype when she described all Midwesterners as farmers. Billy used a stereotype when he repeated what he had heard about Milwaukeeans from his father.
Laura's experience taught us a lot. Our family had arrived in the Lone Star State, loaded down not only with our household belongings but also with dozens of stereotypes about what we would have to put up with from Texans and Southerners if we were going to get along with them. Ironically, it never occurred to us that in Texas it was we who would be the outsiders, labeled "Yankee farmers" with the funny accent.
Relying on stereotypes too often means making decisions about what people are like without ever really thinking of them as individuals. In Jesus' time, people were labeled "tax collectors" and "sinners." His habit of dining with such outcasts created tension between him and the people who were used to judging or labeling people without thinking.
When an inaccurate stereotype is used, it can be easy to spot. Like Laura, when we catch someone slapping an unfair label on a group we know well, we may be so moved by the misunderstanding that we seize the chance to respond with the truth as we experienced it.
But when we're the ones using stereotypes to describe others, the mislabeling is rarely so obvious. Our impression of a group may be coming from something so deeply ingrained in our understanding of the world, the stereotype seems entirely normal. So normal, in fact, it seems to be the truth. This is why teaching our children to avoid stereotypes can be so difficult.
My first instinct still, when driving through a city neighborhood, is to reach over to lock all the doors. Why? Because when I was a child (on the farm) my mother always insisted we crank up our windows and lock our car doors when we drove in the city. "Don't trust anybody in the city," she would say. "I heard folks will jump right in your car at a red light, grab your purse, and be gone before the light changes."
Her intention was to keep us safe. But her message was untrue and unfair. The fact is that decades later, even though I know better, I still have to work hard not to react to the world in the inaccurate way she presented it to me. That's why teaching our children to avoid stereotypes is so important.
"We used to say that we all had a tape in our head, a core of things we learned that gives us a sense of our environment and helps us to be successful in our culture," said Maria Borda-Weisner. "Now we say we have a 'memory chip.' That memory chip doesn't change. We can edit it or adapt it, but it's never really gone. The images are there."
Borda-Weisner, a Chilean married to a North American, is the mother of three adult children and a teen-age daughter, as well as grandmother to two. Professionally, she coordinates the Spanish language program in the certificate division of Saint Francis Seminary. In both work and family life, she advises people to recognize, question, and talk about stereotypes they encounter.
"As parents we need to be open and challenge our own attitudes," she said. "By avoiding discussion when stereotypes come up, we are just trying to go around racism and bigotry. When someone speaks ill of someone, we have to teach our children to ask if what they are hearing is really true."
John and Margot Dunn, members of St. Jude Parish in Wauwatosa, agree. They raised their six children to ask questions and to challenge cultural values that support stereotypes. Now adults, several of their children chose careers in which they can work with and directly serve people from varied cultural and ethnic backgrounds.
The Dunns attribute those career choices to two decisions they made consciously as parents. They encouraged exposure to other cultures through travel and service, and they emphasized the basics of faith.
"I always felt strongly about having the children attend church, whether they wanted to or not," Margot said.
"Even when they were older, we expected them to go with the family to be an example for the younger ones," John said. "We also expected them to earn money and to contribute to the family and to the church. We told them, 'If the Lord is good to you, you had better throw some seed back into the soil.'"
In addition, the Dunns never hesitated to take a stand when they came face-to-face with discriminatory practices based on stereotypes.
"I grew up in a mixed Milwaukee neighborhood," John said. "So it didn't make sense to me that my college fraternity would not admit African-Americans. I fought the national (organization) and helped get the rule changed."
On another occasion, when John was in the armed services, part of his job was to transport prisoners to a Virginia courthouse. "The guard who rode with me was a black man who had been decorated with dozens of military medals and honors," he said. "On one trip, when it was time for lunch, we took the prisoner with us into the courthouse lunchroom.
"'Sorry,' I was told. 'You and the prisoner can eat here. The guard can't.'
"I couldn't believe it! Here we were in a courthouse, of all places, and they wouldn't serve the guard. Here was a guy that had served his country well, was still serving his country. But he couldn't eat there because he was black."
"'If he doesn't eat, none of us eat,' I told the woman at the door. We didn't eat."
Stereotyping isn't limited, however, to racial and ethnic differences. Karen Konter, a parishioner at St. John Vianney Parish, Brookfield, had childhood polio and additional complications as an adult. She wears braces and sometimes uses a cane or motorized cart. Konter has dealt first-hand with more than her share of stereotypes.
Children, she said, are much better than adults at interacting with handicapped people. They often ask questions but are stopped short by well-meaning parents.
"It's easier to teach children about stereotypes because they are so open," Konter said. "Adults tend to shy away from you. They don't want to bring the subject (of physical problems) up or ask questions."
If you know someone who is handicapped, let your children talk with him or her about it, Konter advised. Or, when you see a stranger who may need assistance, address the person directly before you try to help.
"Don't assume they can't communicate," she said. "Ask them if you can help and how you can help them best."
With fellow parishioners, Konter is taking action to address stereotypes in her own parish by organizing "Spirit of Inclusion," a group that helps educate the community about what handicapped people experience in parish life. The group took advantage of a proposed renovation project to survey disabled people and caregivers about ways to involve more handicapped persons actively in liturgical celebrations. Not doing so sends the subtle message that certain people can't fully participate.
"One boy really wanted to be an acolyte, but he couldn't because we have no wheelchair access to the altar," Konter said. "His mother explained that, because her son is told 'no' in so many other arenas, it was especially hard to hear 'no' at church."
Unfortunately some stereotypes encountered at church can be even more subtle. Like Jesus, people need to be challenged to interact with others with whom they're not familiar or don't think they will like. Children need to be shown that they can change how they think about people by seeing them as individuals instead of as part of a group. Even stereotypical understanding of God may need challenging.
In her office at the seminary, Borda-Weisner has pictures of Mary, mother of Jesus, that come from several cultures.
"Mary is not a white Mary in these pictures," Borda-Weisner said. "And we have to challenge our images of God as a white male as well as the way we pray. There are other ways to pray, other images of God, other ways to be in a relationship with God."
When encountering people with a set of meanings different from one's own, Borda-Weisner said, it's not necessary to change one or the other so that both can agree.
"We have to ask how we can make sense of both," she said.
We hear a lot about self-esteem these days. About how important it is in the development of a child's personality and about how easy it is to destroy with a few thoughtless words.
When I was growing up in the 1950s, my parents didn't know much about self-esteem. They were just parents hard-working, God-loving, good people who didn't read psychology books or get bogged down with self-help articles. They raised two daughters and one son and there was never a doubt in my parents' minds as to whether or not we would grow up to be happy, reasonably successful people.
Both of my parents dropped out of college in the early 40s. Dad left to become a fighter pilot in the South Pacific during World War II. Mom left college to take a job at an Army/Air-Corp base in Texas to help with the war effort.
Later, when Dad returned to the United States in 1944, they married and Dad worked as a pilot instructor in Florida. Three weeks after I was born in 1945, just after the war ended, we moved to Illinois where Dad worked for 32 years as a rural mail carrier and mother as the parish secretary of our local Catholic church. Mother also balanced our family's small household budget to the penny each month.
In spite of the fact that my parents didn't graduate from college, conversations during my growing-up years were never prefaced with, "Girls don't need to go to college," or "If we can afford to send you to college...." Instead, from the time I was in grade school I can only remember exciting conversations that began with, "When you go to college."
My parents expected us to graduate from college, have careers, raise families and be successful. But most of all they wanted us to be happy. Their "just do it" vision and "work for it yourself" plan succeeded.
My brother Joe is a pilot for UPS and my sister Catherine is an elementary school teacher. We all have a boat load of self-esteem one quality I will always say is a direct gift from my parents.
Building self-esteem somehow came naturally to Mom and Dad. I remember one event in particular during my childhood as clearly as if it happened yesterday. To this day I believe it had more to do with building my self-esteem than anything anyone has ever said or done for me before or since.
One Saturday night when I was about 7 years old I'd gone to bed at my usual time, 8 or 8:30. By 9 p.m. I was into a sound sleep when I felt a hand on my shoulder.
"Pat, wake up," Dad whispered as he shook me gently. "Are you awake? We want you to come out to the kitchen."
"Huh? Why, Daddy?"
"Your Mom and I decided to have root beer floats and we don't want you to miss out. Come on, honey, there's a big brown cow out there for you."
I padded to the kitchen in my big pink fluffy slippers and flannel bathrobe and plopped down next to Mom at the old wooden table. I watched Dad scoop the vanilla ice cream into the large blue, yellow and brown stoneware mugs that were only used on special occasions because they were treasures from my mother's childhood.
The foam from the root beer tickled my nose as I chatted with my folks about school and about the family boat ride we were planning that weekend in the airboat my Dad had been building for the past couple years. Then I listened and shared excitedly as Mom, Dad and I discussed plans for our family vacation that summer.
I never felt more loved than I did that night in the kitchen as I groggily slurped root beer and ice cream with parents. Why? Because Mom and Dad wanted my company enough to wake me up so I could be there.
Is there a child or grandchild in your life who could use a boost of self-esteem? The best doses come when you simply let that child know, without a doubt, that you really, truly want to be with them and that you treasure their existence enough to share your most precious moments with them in person. It's about the choice of a few important words of encouragement to a child. But most of all it's about the gift of your time - the best gift of all.
(Lorenz has been writing for national magazines since 1981 and is the
author of the book, "Stuff That Matters for Single Parents." She
is also author of a 365-day devotional called "A Hug a Day for Single
Parents.")
Teach youngsters to turn mistakes into opportunities
James Pankratz - Special to Parenting
On New Year's Eve, our family went to a live performance featuring a ventriloquist, a dog act, a magician and a juggler. The magician was a handsome and talented young man who flawlessly combined mime with magic. When he finished, the audience cheered and the master of ceremonies interviewed him, asking him his advice for any aspiring, young magicians.
The juggler was a different story. He was no longer young, and his pot belly pressed snugly on the front of his medieval juggler's outfit with floppy feet. Soon he was tossing his handfuls of balls into the air. Whereas the sleek and polished magician was beginning his career, it was CLEAR the juggler had performed his act many times before. He even called attention to his world-weary attitude. During a trick he would look at the audience and say "Five years ... one lousy trick." The audience soon picked up on this and repeated it like a mantra.
At one point, one of the balls he was juggling bounced across the stage. I gulped. He retrieved the ball, paused and impishly announced "It's part of the act." Then he made another mistake. One of the large rings got away from him. With mock seriousness he again asserted "It's part of the act."
While I admired the magician, I empathized with the juggler. He made a mistake and recovered. I wondered what he was thinking. Was he secretly lacerating himself for blowing his act in front of hundreds of people on New Year's Eve? His appearance was one of calm acceptance. He didn't allow his mistakes to throw him. Juggling requires mental concentration as much as physical agility. He was obviously able to regain his concentration and finish the act with no further slip-ups.
How many times can we recall when a mistake was the beginning of a rapid tailspin? We became embarrassed, flustered, angry and completely forgot what we were supposed to do next. Why didn't the juggler allow this to happen to him? How did he manage to continue? How did he stay centered?
I would like to think the juggler learned a positive way of looking at himself and his actions in his family. Perhaps years earlier his parents taught him not to regard a mistake as a catastrophe. How? Fathers and mothers teach their children a profound lesson in how to think about mistakes by how they react to their children's mistakes and to their own mistakes.
It's easy for human beings to equate a mistake with failure. And even worse yet to regard themselves as failures for having made mistakes. A daughter knocks over a can of sticky soda and her father yells "Don't be so clumsy!" A son reports through his sobs that his bike was stolen. An exasperated mom scolds him "How many times did I tell you to lock it up at night?" The message is clearly: "You could achieve perfection and avoid all the pain that results from human error if you only listened to me." A lot of people are walking around feeling bad about themselves because they realize that they are not perfect and never will be.
But isn't perfection over-rated? If individuals never made mistakes, much that is good in the world would never have come to be. My younger son was recently reading a book with the inspiring title, "Mistakes that Worked," by Charlotte Foltz Jones. The book is full of anecdotes about how blunders, accidents and oversights led to brilliant discoveries. Take the potato chip, for example.
One day in 1853 at an exclusive vacation site in Saratoga Springs, N.Y., a customer sent his plate of fried potatoes back to the kitchen. He wanted them sliced thinner and fried longer. The angry chef retaliated by frying them until they were crisp and curled. Then he poured salt on them. Today Americans spend close to $4 billion a year on potato chips.
Jones' book also tells of a doctor walking with a soldier blinded in World War I combat. He briefly left his patient and his dog together while he attended to another matter. When he returned, both of them were gone. When he tracked them down, he found the dog had led the blind man around the hospital grounds.
He thought about how much more a trained dog could do. Although dogs guiding individuals is a phenomenon dating back to ancient times, this incident was the inspiration for starting an organized training program for dog guides. Today about 6,500 blind persons in the United States benefit from dog guides.
Try teaching your children to think of a mistake in a new way. Instead of concluding that it is a failure, tell them it's an opportunity. A mistake is simply an outcome which we did not expect. In itself it is not necessarily good or bad. Not every mistake will lead to a new scientific discovery, of course. Some are just inconvenient. But it need not be>
Are they still relevant guidelines today?
Kathie Amidei - Special to Parenting
When you hear "Ten Commandments," you probably visualize Charlton Heston in his famous movie portrayal of Moses as he brought down from the m momentar&>rdm;L@>
By Kathy Meersman- Special to Parenting
Parents want to be proud of their children. They want to see them as making a difference in the world, to see them become their own persons, willing to stand tall and stick out their necks for what they believe. In other words, they want them to become as John Graham, co-founder of the Giraffe Project, defines a "giraffe," an everyday hero or heroine.
In order to become "giraffes" of the future, today's children need to learn about men and women who model Christian values and principles - men and women who faithfully live their lives trusting in God's care and love to guide them.
Finding role models can be difficult in today's society in which our children most often emulate sports figures, movie and TV stars, and those at the top of the music charts. While some of these stars are truly "giraffes," others are less than "giraffe" material.
Where can parents find people of faith and virtue to use as examples for our children? When I ask this question to parents, I rarely have someone respond, "from Scripture." Yet it is in Scripture, particularly in the Old Testament, God's own storybook, that we find some of the most vivid examples of "giraffes," people who were willing to put their lives on the line for their God and his ideals.
Most of us could tell our children the story of Noah or Moses or David and Goliath. Few would be able to relate the story of Sarah, Rebekah, Miriam or Oprah and Ruth, and yet to look only at the heroes of that ancient time of our faith and not the heroines is to leave out many of the best lessons in becoming a "giraffe."
From the stories of these women we see how God worked with and through his people, how he touched and changed their lives and how the qualities recognized in those Old Testament heroines are the very qualities that will carry our children into and through the next millennium as significant leaders.
The women of the Old Testament were the "birthers of the future." In and through them God fulfilled his covenant promise.
As we enter a new millennium, we need to look back at the lessons given us by these heroines and share their stories with our daughters and sons as they too become "birthers of the future" - hopefully a future centered in God's goodness and humankind's love and respect for one another.
The very best stories for children are the stories that are told to them and that's true for our Old Testament heroines as well. Many of these stories will contain parts that are too difficult or mature for a child to understand. I suggest that you as parents first read the account yourselves and then tell the story to your children in your own words as a bedtime story or way to pass time while driving a distance in the car. Here are the stories of a few of my favorite female "giraffes" from the Old Testament to get you started.
Sarah
In today's mobile society where job transfers often uproot families and replant them in new and unfamiliar settings, Sarah, the wife of Abraham, is a wonderful example of faithfulness, adaptability, perseverance. And she manages to keep her sense of humor through it all!
We first meet Sarah in the genealogy of Terah, Abraham's father, where we learn that she is Abraham's wife, has no children and has traveled with Terah and his family from Ur to Haran. Sarah must have been an expert at packing up and moving on for that is how she spends most of her life, traveling from place to place with her husband.
Children love to imagine Sarah packing up "all the possessions that they had accumulated, and the persons they had acquired in Haran" and setting out for the land of Canaan. How would you carry all your possessions without a moving truck, or van, or even a suitcase? Where would you spend the nights while traveling? Where would you stop for lunch? Comparing a trip that your family has taken with the travels of Sarah can open children's eyes to the meaning of loyalty and of making the best of even difficult situations.
Does Sarah complain? Not that Scripture reveals to us. She willingly accompanies Abraham to Canaan and then to Egypt and then to Gerar. Each time they stop, it is Sarah who must see to the setting up of camp, provision of food, the welfare of her husband and all who travel with them. Talk about being able to adapt to your surroundings! It is Abraham who often offers hospitality to visitors. It is Sarah who must carry out that hospitality. "Abraham hastened into the tent and told Sarah, 'Quick, three seahs of fine flour! Knead it and make rolls!"
Sarah has a lively sense of humor and the ability to laugh at herself, something our children need to cultivate in their own lives. Scripture tells us of Sarah's laughter and of its importance in her life as she names her son "Isaac," which means, "he laughs."
Through all of her travels, trials and disappointments, Sarah remains faithful to Abraham and to the God of Abraham. Her reward is to become the mother of the covenant promise that God made to Abraham. Sarah is significant in the fulfillment of all of God's promises to Abraham.
Rebekah
From Rebekah, future wife of Isaac, we learn lessons of generosity and hospitality. In a time in our society when the "me" attitude seems prevalent, children need to find models of giving and sharing generously with others.
Rebekah is such a model. Coming upon Isaac's servant near a well, Rebekah generously answers his request for "a sip of water from your jug."
Rebekah not only gives him a drink from her jug of water, she lets him drink his fill and then says,"'I will draw water for your camels too until they have drunk their fill.' With that, she quickly empties her jug into the drinking trough and runs back to the well to draw more water, until she has drawn enough for all the camels." What a wonderful example of responding generously to someone's needs.
Rebekah's generosity does not end there, however. She also offers her home as a place for the servant and his animals to spend the night. God rewards Rebekah's generosity by choosing her for Isaac's wife.
Rebekah is a woman of decision and courage. She willingly leaves her family and homeland to travel to a land she has never seen to marry a man she has yet to meet. Her generosity and hospitality earn her a place in covenant history.
Miriam
If your children tend to argue a lot, you might want to share the story of Miriam, the older sister of Moses. Through Miriam's love and devotion to her brother, Moses is saved from death at the hands of the Egyptians and is rescued from the river upon which his mother set him afloat.
Miriam's sisterly concern for and care of the child Moses is returned when she confronts God and is inflicted with skin disease. It is her brother Moses who pleads to God to cure her and will not leave their camp to continue the journey until she is well enough to accompany him.
Ruth and Oprah
Respect, love and obedience are the values exhibited by Ruth and her lesser known sister-in-law, Oprah. Both women find themselves widowed and penniless in a foreign land with an aging mother-in-law, Naomi, to care for.
When Naomi suggests they return to their homelands, both at first refuse. When Naomi insists, it is Oprah who finally obeys Naomi's wishes. "Again they sobbed aloud and wept; and Oprah kissed her mother-in-law good-bye, but Ruth stayed with her."
It is Oprah's respect and love for Naomi that has her obeying Naomi's order. It is Ruth's love for Naomi that causes her to disobey and stay with the older women. In a time when some youth show a lack of respect for the elderly, the story of Ruth and Naomi shows the elderly are to be admired and honored, for it is Naomi's cleverness and Ruth's obedience that gain for them a new home and protector.
Each of these women exhibits characteristics and values we need to instill in our children to prepare them to be faith-filled disciples of Christ and everyday "giraffes" of the new millennium.
As a favorite song, "Ordinary Miracles," by Barbra Streisand says, "We can all be quiet heroes, living quiet days; walking through the world, changing it in quiet ways."
Such are the women of the Old Testament and the children of tomorrow.
(Meersman is director of Christian formation at St. Edward Parish, Racine.)
Sarah - Faithfulness (Genesis 12, 15-17, 18:1-15)
Rebekah - Generosity, hospitality (Genesis 24, 25)
Miriam - Sibling love and care; courage (Exodus 2:1-10, Numbers 12:1-16)
Oprah and Ruth - Love and respect for the elderly, obedience (The Book of Ruth)
Patrica Lorenz - Special to Parenting
Oh Lord, it's hard to be humble
One of my favorite songs that the famous and quite amazing University of Wisconsin Marching Band plays and sings is: "Oh Lord, it's hard to be humble, when you're perfect in every way. I can't wait to look in the mirror, I get better looking each day! To know us is to love us, we must be a hell of a band. Oh Lord, it's hard to be humble, but we're doing the best that we can."
Yes, it is hard to be humble especially when things are going great in your life. But isn't it true that the minute everything is running smoothly and your head swells from marvelous accomplishments, that is precisely the time a two-pound bag of rice spills into the innards of the gas stove or the toddler pours sand in your gas tank or the cat tears up a feather pillow inside on a hot humid day. Yet, even on those days when we're reminded about humility, it's still hard for many of us to be humble.
One time my daughter Jeanne, a New York artist, heard me bragging that I'd sold five stories to an anthology that would have over 1 million readers. Humiliated a few weeks later, I had to admit that the publication decided not to use my stories after all. Seems they'd sent contracts out to lots more people than they had room for in the book. It was fun getting all puffed up about my accomplishment, but not so much fun later when my accomplishment fell flat. That's when Jeanne told me the following story.
A well-known art curator in New York contacted 400 artists, including Jeanne, and asked each to make a painting that measured exactly 2 feet by 2 feet. He wanted to hang the 400 square paintings in a perfect grid formation in a large New York gallery, thus creating a huge piece of art out of 400 parts. And because artists have to think about scale and don't usually work on square paper or canvas, the show would be titled "Size Matters."
Normally, when Jeanne finishes a watercolor she simply tears the paper along the sides to create a natural deckled edge. But for this project the artists were asked to conform to having their work measure exactly 24 inches square with sharp edges.
To accomplish this she went to a special archival artists store and purchased a surgeon's scalpel to cut her painting to size.
Gingerly placing her steel ruler along the sides of the painting, she sliced through the heavy watercolor paper.
"Hey, this isn't so hard," she said somewhat surprised at her dexterity.
She turned the painting twice again and made two more cuts along the pencil line she'd drawn after carefully measuring out 24 inches on each side of the painting.
Somewhat arrogantly she shouted aloud, "Wow! I'm really good at this! I should be teaching other artists how to do it!" Totally relaxed, Jeanne felt her chest puff up with pride in her work.
She turned the painting to make the final cut. Slice. At the instant the scalpel left the paper Jeanne realized she'd cut on the wrong side of the ruler, slicing off an inch-and-a-half too much of her precious painting.
A few weeks later she told me, "Mom, it was the minute after I let that cocky arrogance take over that I made the disastrous mistake!"
Jeanne salvaged the painting by applying adhesive to both pieces and attaching muslin to the back which she stretched over the wooden frame provided by the curator. But I'm sure many people who saw Jeanne's creation in that art show noticed the thin line where the painting had been cut and glued. And perhaps some of them even thought it was the artist's humorous way of saying that size does matter. However, you and Jeanne and I know differently. I, for one, learned the same lesson that's in Proverbs 11:2, "When pride comes, then comes disgrace, but with humility comes wisdom."
I remembered other arrogant times in my life. Like the day I washed my car by hand and then bragged to my kids and the neighbors about what a masterpiece of shiny metal I'd created. An hour later the sky opened and it rained buckets.
Or the times when I bragged to the kids about the creative, delicious, nutritious casserole I was making only to have it end up practically unfit for human consumption.
Check it out. Next time you're feeling really bloated over something you've created, cleaned, cooked, designed, written, painted, fixed, grown, installed or invented, don't get carried away. If your pride verges on overbearing arrogance, beware. Chances are your overblown opinion of yourself is going to pop and spew giant doses of humility over your psyche. And somehow I think that's just exactly the way things should be.
"Oh Lord, it's hard to be humble, but I'm trying a little each day."
(Lorenz, an Oak Creek resident, writer and inspirational speaker, is the mother of four grown children, one of whom is assistant director of the Rose Bowl-bound UW-Madison marching band.)
We hear a lot about self-esteem these days. About how important it is in the development of a child's personality and about how easy it is to destroy with a few thoughtless words.
When I was growing up in the 1950s, my parents didn't know much about self-esteem. They were just parents hard-working, God-loving, good people who didn't read psychology books or get bogged down with self-help articles. They raised two daughters and one son and there was never a doubt in my parents' minds as to whether or not we would grow up to be happy, reasonably successful people.
Both of my parents dropped out of college in the early 40s. Dad left to become a fighter pilot in the South Pacific during World War II. Mom left college to take a job at an Army/Air-Corp base in Texas to help with the war effort.
Later, when Dad returned to the United States in 1944, they married and Dad worked as a pilot instructor in Florida. Three weeks after I was born in 1945, just after the war ended, we moved to Illinois where Dad worked for 32 years as a rural mail carrier and mother as the parish secretary of our local Catholic church. Mother also balanced our family's small household budget to the penny each month.
In spite of the fact that my parents didn't graduate from college, conversations during my growing-up years were never prefaced with, "Girls don't need to go to college," or "If we can afford to send you to college...." Instead, from the time I was in grade school I can only remember exciting conversations that began with, "When you go to college."
My parents expected us to graduate from college, have careers, raise families and be successful. But most of all they wanted us to be happy. Their "just do it" vision and "work for it yourself" plan succeeded.
My brother Joe is a pilot for UPS and my sister Catherine is an elementary school teacher. We all have a boat load of self-esteem one quality I will always say is a direct gift from my parents.
Building self-esteem somehow came naturally to Mom and Dad. I remember one event in particular during my childhood as clearly as if it happened yesterday. To this day I believe it had more to do with building my self-esteem than anything anyone has ever said or done for me before or since.
One Saturday night when I was about 7 years old I'd gone to bed at my usual time, 8 or 8:30. By 9 p.m. I was into a sound sleep when I felt a hand on my shoulder.
"Pat, wake up," Dad whispered as he shook me gently. "Are you awake? We want you to come out to the kitchen."
"Huh? Why, Daddy?"
"Your Mom and I decided to have root beer floats and we don't want you to miss out. Come on, honey, there's a big brown cow out there for you."
I padded to the kitchen in my big pink fluffy slippers and flannel bathrobe and plopped down next to Mom at the old wooden table. I watched Dad scoop the vanilla ice cream into the large blue, yellow and brown stoneware mugs that were only used on special occasions because they were treasures from my mother's childhood.
The foam from the root beer tickled my nose as I chatted with my folks about school and about the family boat ride we were planning that weekend in the airboat my Dad had been building for the past couple years. Then I listened and shared excitedly as Mom, Dad and I discussed plans for our family vacation that summer.
I never felt more loved than I did that night in the kitchen as I groggily slurped root beer and ice cream with parents. Why? Because Mom and Dad wanted my company enough to wake me up so I could be there.
Is there a child or grandchild in your life who could use a boost of self-esteem? The best doses come when you simply let that child know, without a doubt, that you really, truly want to be with them and that you treasure their existence enough to share your most precious moments with them in person. It's about the choice of a few important words of encouragement to a child. But most of all it's about the gift of your time - the best gift of all.
(Lorenz has been writing for national magazines since 1981 and is the
author of the book, "Stuff That Matters for Single Parents." She
is also author of a 365-day devotional called "A Hug a Day for Single
Parents.")
Teach youngsters to turn mistakes into opportunities
James Pankratz - Special to Parenting
On New Year's Eve, our family went to a live performance featuring a ventriloquist, a dog act, a magician and a juggler. The magician was a handsome and talented young man who flawlessly combined mime with magic. When he finished, the audience cheered and the master of ceremonies interviewed him, asking him his advice for any aspiring, young magicians.
The juggler was a different story. He was no longer young, and his pot belly pressed snugly on the front of his medieval juggler's outfit with floppy feet. Soon he was tossing his handfuls of balls into the air. Whereas the sleek and polished magician was beginning his career, it was CLEAR the juggler had performed his act many times before. He even called attention to his world-weary attitude. During a trick he would look at the audience and say "Five years ... one lousy trick." The audience soon picked up on this and repeated it like a mantra.
At one point, one of the balls he was juggling bounced across the stage. I gulped. He retrieved the ball, paused and impishly announced "It's part of the act." Then he made another mistake. One of the large rings got away from him. With mock seriousness he again asserted "It's part of the act."
While I admired the magician, I empathized with the juggler. He made a mistake and recovered. I wondered what he was thinking. Was he secretly lacerating himself for blowing his act in front of hundreds of people on New Year's Eve? His appearance was one of calm acceptance. He didn't allow his mistakes to throw him. Juggling requires mental concentration as much as physical agility. He was obviously able to regain his concentration and finish the act with no further slip-ups.
How many times can we recall when a mistake was the beginning of a rapid tailspin? We became embarrassed, flustered, angry and completely forgot what we were supposed to do next. Why didn't the juggler allow this to happen to him? How did he manage to continue? How did he stay centered?
I would like to think the juggler learned a positive way of looking at himself and his actions in his family. Perhaps years earlier his parents taught him not to regard a mistake as a catastrophe. How? Fathers and mothers teach their children a profound lesson in how to think about mistakes by how they react to their children's mistakes and to their own mistakes.
It's easy for human beings to equate a mistake with failure. And even worse yet to regard themselves as failures for having made mistakes. A daughter knocks over a can of sticky soda and her father yells "Don't be so clumsy!" A son reports through his sobs that his bike was stolen. An exasperated mom scolds him "How many times did I tell you to lock it up at night?" The message is clearly: "You could achieve perfection and avoid all the pain that results from human error if you only listened to me." A lot of people are walking around feeling bad about themselves because they realize that they are not perfect and never will be.
But isn't perfection over-rated? If individuals never made mistakes, much that is good in the world would never have come to be. My younger son was recently reading a book with the inspiring title, "Mistakes that Worked," by Charlotte Foltz Jones. The book is full of anecdotes about how blunders, accidents and oversights led to brilliant discoveries. Take the potato chip, for example.
One day in 1853 at an exclusive vacation site in Saratoga Springs, N.Y., a customer sent his plate of fried potatoes back to the kitchen. He wanted them sliced thinner and fried longer. The angry chef retaliated by frying them until they were crisp and curled. Then he poured salt on them. Today Americans spend close to $4 billion a year on potato chips.
Jones' book also tells of a doctor walking with a soldier blinded in World War I combat. He briefly left his patient and his dog together while he attended to another matter. When he returned, both of them were gone. When he tracked them down, he found the dog had led the blind man around the hospital grounds.
He thought about how much more a trained dog could do. Although dogs guiding individuals is a phenomenon dating back to ancient times, this incident was the inspiration for starting an organized training program for dog guides. Today about 6,500 blind persons in the United States benefit from dog guides.
Try teaching your children to think of a mistake in a new way. Instead of concluding that it is a failure, tell them it's an opportunity. A mistake is simply an outcome which we did not expect. In itself it is not necessarily good or bad. Not every mistake will lead to a new scientific discovery, of course. Some are just inconvenient. But it need not be>
James Pankratz - Special to Parenting
The holiday that children look forward to the most is over for another year.
Last minute frantic wrapping and assembling by moms and dads resulted in shrieks of joy on Christmas morning. The>l
By James Pankratz - Special to Parenting
Permissive parents. That's a common response when asked the cause of kids' behavior problems. What kids need today is a firm hand! They'd shape up if someone with authority were in charge, someone like a cop!
I agree. We need more parents who act like cops. At least like one particular cop. I recently attended a presentation by a captain in the Brown County Sheriff's Department, Randall Revling. Revling was team leader of the Emergency Response Unit, and he's active in training police officers and civilian groups in survival and safety.
In his workshop titled "Personal Safety in the Workplace for Office-Based and Home-Based Workers," he presented ways to identify and deal with an emotionally disturbed person or EDP. An EDP shows signs of being emotionally worked up, e.g. rapid breathing, fixed gaze, tense shoulders, etc. and is apt to act out aggressively to relieve inner tension.
Revling talked about dealing with out-of-control clients in a work setting, not children. However, as he was speaking about his theory of intervention, the parallels with parenting became readily apparent. When he identified the most dangerous environment for potential violence as the home, I began to think about scenarios parents encounter on a regular basis.
A toddler who has been shrieking at the top of his lungs for half an hour, or a teen-ager who slams his fist on the kitchen table and demands to use the car right now. Or, after you've worked hard to put a meal together, any child who complains loud and long that the food stinks. Any of these situations involve kids who could temporarily be described as EDPs. A teen-ager could be described as someone who is frequently an EDP!
We waited to hear how the sheriff's captain would respond to tense situations. He began by saying that anyone who came to the seminar to learn martial arts skills would be disappointed. He made it clear that aggressive action in response will only stimulate more violence. Meeting force with force is usually disastrous. He emphasized that individuals have what it takes to deal effectively with an emotionally disturbed person: verbal skills. He said 90 percent of potentially volatile situations can be defused through verbal communication.
He outlined his approach for gaining what he described as "voluntary compliance" from the EDP. One of his key points was giving the emotionally worked up person "space." "Don't close in on an EDP," he stressed. That person will perceive that as a threat and will react accordingly.
How many times parents do just the opposite! The teen-ager hurls a taunt or a defiant challenge. The parent, to bolster a perceived threat to authority or to prove his or her strength, thinks "Charge," flings open the door, and strides into the bedroom. Startled, the teen-ager jumps up and yells "get out!" The parent yells back "Nobody talks to me like that!" Next comes a hand on the shoulder, then a shove, and soon bruises or worse.
Revling's advice: control yourself before others. The parent needs to be vigilant not to turn into an EDP too! How different the outcome if the parent had allowed the kid to storm up to his room and slam the door. He pointed out that "a person whose aggressive response has been triggered requires more personal space than normal." Disengagement allows the body's activated arousal state to begin to come down.
After the feelings of both the child and parent have cooled somewhat, self-control is a prerequisite for applying "verbal judo" to defuse the situation. First, talk softly and slowly. Take your time.
The next point is a cardinal rule for therapists. Hearing it from a sheriffs' captain brought home to me its universal application. Listen to the hidden meaning behind the anger. Perhaps your testy teen-ager is really feeling embarrassed or worried about an exam or under stress from demands from too many extra-curricular activities. Taking the time to listen will defuse many an angry situation.
Re-engagement and active listening can begin only after the stage of venting has stopped. The captain advised that throughout the process it is all important to communicate an attitude of respect. He noted sometimes this is more respect than the individual has ever received from anyone else. When an individual feels respected, he or she is inclined to treat you with respect as well.
Let's see: allow for space, use active listening, and show an attitude of respect. These are the primary tools used by a modern SWAT team on the street or in your home. If you don't want to hear it from a therapist, take it from a cop.
(Pankratz is a marriage and family therapist in Catholic Charities' Milwaukee regional office.)
Copyright, 1997 by Catholic Herald, Milwaukee, WI
USA
chnonline@archmil.org