Trophy Kids

Recently, I listened to an interview with Ashley Merryman, co-author of Nurture Shock: New Thinking About Children.  She argues that we’ve raised a generation of trophy kids.  They are rewarded not for excellence so much as mere existence.  One example:  more money is spent on trophies by youth soccer organizations nationwide than on coach training or equipment.  Indeed, parents faced with little league budget cuts more often choose to save money by playing fewer games than by giving fewer trophies.

Some other highlights from Merryman’s interview:

• Kids know the difference between receiving a trophy and earning one… but they’re not sure adults do.  Because adults praise them no matter their level of success, their authenticity is suspect over time.
• Students who are praised for their intelligence are often paralyzed by the threat of failure.  If they fail, are they no longer intelligent?  It’s in the best interest of such children to repeat successes (often beneath their ability level) and avoid challenges (often slightly outside their comfort zone). 
• By contrast, students who are praised for hard work (a character trait over which they seem to have more control than intelligence or beauty) are often emboldened to attempt more.  Hard work (and not success) becomes their defining characteristic – even though the first frequently leads to the second.
• Consider a parent confronting a child:  “Did you break the vase, Mary?”  Mary wants to please her mother.  But answering “yes” admits failure.  Answering “no” is lying.  The question presents Mary no opportunity to make her parents happy.  As an alternative, suggests Merryman, try:  “It would please me to hear the truth about the broken vase.”
• Parents of young children offer incessant praise, expecting the cold reality of criticism to kick in at a later time.  They defer criticism to some future authority in the lives of their children.  But grade inflation – and even workplace perks – suggest that an honest appraisal is simply not forthcoming. 

I haven’t read the book, so I’m not necessarily coming out as an advocate.  The author did present her case with well-reasoned research.  And I’ve taught (and parented) long enough to have encountered anecdotal support of my own.

Timid Empathy

My latest documentary -- about a progressive arts/faith-based school in New Jersey -- contains a shot in which its students lead a reggae version of the birthday song. Three seconds long, maybe four. Some of the children are wearing dreadlocks as you might put on any wig to assume a dramatic role. The school distinguishes itself in the inclusive diversity of its student body. Yet in this one shot, no African-Americans are among the song's performers.

The shot fronts a section about teaching music through joy. Indeed, wild enthusiasm is a hallmark of the performance, with nearly the entire upper school participating with loud voices and clapping.

I was enjoined by one funding client to run a rough cut by a specialist in multicultural sensitivity -- the assumption being that, because the film's donors and creative crew are white, we might not possess the necessary sensitivity ourselves.

So, I showed it to the multicultural affairs officer and held my breath, hoping she wouldn't suggest any changes to the content of the film in the perilous interim between visual lock and audio mix. "Leave it in," she said. "It's joyous. The school's all about the welcoming examination of other culture's through the fine and performing arts. Go for it."

Okay, she came to the same conclusion I did. But I didn't trust myself. And I didn't trust the five other smart people to whom I'd shown it. Perhaps the distrust of self is a sign of empathy. Or perhaps it is an indemnification, an abdication of voice. Now if members of my audience bristle at kids with fake dreadlocks I can claim I had the film vetted by an African-American expert and shoulder less responsibility for my art.

I am pulled like taffy between vigorously loving my neighbor and honestly sharing who I am with the bold voice of prophets.