Raising a Wholesome Child Brightly

This last weekend my mother gave me a rather ratty looking book, How to Raise a Brighter Child, by Joan Beck. She explained that it was the book she used to raise my sisters and me. The book was published in 1967, some 9 years before I was born. I handed it to my child development advisor to read and review. Which she promptly began doing the next weekend as I was studying for the bar exam, parked idyllically at the garden café of the Atlanta Botanical Gardens. By today’s standards, the book is spot-on and somewhat subversive (to be both at the same time requires a terrifically subjective standard, I think).

Ms. Beck’s book is responding to prevailing science and, at that point, wisdom (we are our customs, says Pascal, or perhaps we often grow up in our possibilities[1] for wisdom) that children will develop skills at their own pace and that parents should be hands off with their child’s education. Education is to be left up to the experts – and a child that reads before the first grade is either precocious or the product of over-demanding parents attempting to numb their despotic feelings of inadequacy. The upper classes heeded this advice, but the middle and lower (but educated) classes had not read the latest books in their time and were busy passively refuting the cutting edge. Ms. Beck was riding the little wave that turned into the tsunami that is the Baby Einstein zeitgeist.

It is rather satisfying, I think, to read these older books for any number of reasons. Paramount is the perspective (or distance) that they stimulate. But in this case, it is very affirming to that Amy and I are riding down the lee side of one of the waves of child development theory. We are nurturing a more relaxed attitude towards our child’s mental development than is the norm. There are a variety of motivations for this, but mainly because the mania about stimulation seems overwrought and manifests in one suspicious premise – that early is better. Somehow, in the world of toy marketing, early means brighter. Early reading, better than later (i.e., slower) reading. Early walking – the kid’s a genius! One toy that we recently received as a gift had a rather ominous (for its passive implications) epithet in large black letters across the bottom of the package – DEVELOPS THINKING.

Why is early better? (That doesn’t hold true in other areas of life.) Because early is supposed to indicate smarter. Since babies are the weapons in inadequate feeling parents’ wars against more seemingly adequate normal parents, one prods her child into “early” performance. That is too cynical, because early stimulation marked by early performance means a smarter, better baby, and that means a more successful baby later, viz. a baby that is closer to being the best in the world at something, like music, money, painting, or sex appeal. And so, the early walker, talker, and (the holy grail) reader, is the better/happier/richer/prettier adult 20 something years later.

As someone who not only couldn’t read, but lacked numbers and colors, before the first grade (or so says my mother), I am not as offended by the craze as I probably should be.

What fascinates me most about the book, however, is why education was to be left to the experts according to the studies, science, and philosophy of the 1920s, 30s, and 40s as described by Ms. Beck. I think that here is an exciting example of ideology driving science. My little hypothesis? Ideology with a capital “I” drove/drives the Modern/Post-Moden world – Idealism, Realism, Communism, Capitalism, Socialism, National Socialism, Nationalism, Utilitarianism, etc. Each of these ideologies has to control the State, the Guns, and Education. And for each of these (they were all the same in a way), a certain cleansing of the effects of custom and history is necessary. So, education must be taken from the parents who still teach with intuition and by customary and hereditary child-raising techniques, learned through experience or as a result of biological impulse. The evils that plague the world derived from this intuition, biology, and custom. And the only way to purge the world of its evils and permanently supplant them with the scientific, rational forms of society envisioned in the Idelogies was to keep parents as hands-off as possible. After all, children come with no content, and the behavioralist educators could shape and mold them to be good little citizens, workers, etc. Or maybe, children come with wholesome good content (a la Rouseau) that requires precise nurturing by enlightened experts and can only be tainted by their corrupt parents.

In my own experience, there is little doubt that at least our child comes with wholesome good content – super cute content, actually. And honestly, corrupt or enlightened, I have no idea what I’m doing around her most of the time – she’s so captivating that memory fails somewhat – I think I mostly dance around, make funny faces, making silly noises blowing on her neck and tummy, cluck in her ear, and ask “SO, what DID YoU do ToDAY?” or “Do you See MISS PEE-Nut [the dog]?”, etc.

---

[1] or even if we “get ourself into them” as Heidegger might say, either way its unlikely that the average “us” chooses free of either chance or custom.

The First Strokes of my Treatise on Sour

Recently (as of this last evening) I have decided that I am engaging in a campaign of self-deceit. The truth is, much to the contrary of my own motivating intuitions, I am not chipper enough.

In fact, I am often just downright sour. Worse still, I tend to have little patience when in a sour mood. Fortunately for those suffering through my few during-the-day encounters this sourness is mostly manifest at home, leaving my wife and mother-in-law to reckon as to the cause, or to just give up and focus on the positive. This is certainly not just: my mother-in-law, in particular, is quite often working hard to be "helpful" or "not be a bother" or to just "get out of the way." And credit to her deep humility, she can be politely self-effacing in the process. Most probably, she is unaware that such behavior often contributes to my sourness.

Until now, my tendency has been to find an external cause for these moments (sometimes prolonged, I confess), e.g., stress, someone else’s behavior, fatigue, even intense focus on a project – as an excuse to eschew the niceties of a pleasant outward disposition. The truth is, however, that I often just feel like operating in a space uncluttered by other human beings – and I am most incapable of flashing a smile when I don’t feel cheerful and magnanimous (yes, I know, seemingly odd word choice, but accurate). And, of course, a dearth of deep humility prevents suffering perceived foolishness gladly. Tack on a recognition of a somewhat piercing insight into the motivations of my intimates, and you end up with sour—like rotten sour, not tart, but like rotten cheese/milk sour.

This lack of Zenny cheerfulness is a concern that has grown in importance as my latest psychological self-improvement project over the last few months. And at those times that I have considered it constructive to think or talk about it, I have mostly longed nostalgic of a time when in a less satisfying professional “space” I felt the inner chipper chirp more loudly. A couple of years ago, discovering myself in abject luxury working in a white shoe law firm and experiencing the slow melt of years of anxiety over finances, but deeply troubled by the social/moral significance of the application of my talents, I found myself often cheerful (though often not) – and now (as of last night) believe that my occasional sunniness was a result of a disciplined approach to my situation.

[Secondly, there are some individuals that receive a cheerful response always. What is it about my encounters with them that cause me to want to be cheerful? I have no answers to this right now.]

I have fortunately decided that occasionally acting sour is not an isolated question of authenticity of feeling, but a question of: overall happiness; commitments to decreasing suffering in the world and sharing joy with my family; and fear of the long-term effects of an outlook either driven by unmitigated will—or id-diness. There’s an aphorism that explains this fear -- by own’s self the bitter is suffered or the sweet enjoyed; the cheerful or sour feel by themselves; no one can brighten or darken another (roughly paraphrased). And I also agree with the idea that little mean deeds are like water drops, them seem insignificance at any moment, but have tremendous effect (sometimes irreversible) over time.

But what to do? At the firm, I started with a plan – to create a pleasant workplace environment. I knew that my time there was limited, that I felt extreme guilt for applying my talents there and not in the public interest, and I felt that I had seldom enjoyed my workplace with other jobs. So, my plan was to be super-positive with everyone all the time. I reasoned that if interactions with me were always positive for the other person, that immediate positive reinforcement would create a happier atmosphere (and create a little breathing room if I ever needed it, or screwed up an assignment, worked less than others, etc.). I honestly believed, and believe, that these results were achieved. But, my memory also includes a thrilling sense of detachment that felt like a form of power over my condition – I felt like a disengaged observer wondering at the marvel of my life. I have not until now imagined a causal relation between these two parts of my life at that time, viz., a consistent practice and discipline in outward expression of my mood and an inner feeling of joy.

So, fair warning to you all. Expect nonchalance, cheeriness, mixed with principled distance and engagement, and expect compassion. At least sometimes – and if this is not the treatment you receive, you have my permission to remind me of my commitment. Though don’t be surprised if I bite your head off when you do.