Having children can really change your perspective on a lot of things. Of course, most of you (at least those who have children) already knew that. And having a child that is high-maintenance, spirited, active-alert or… (insert your favorite euphamism for "difficult" here) can really shake up the way you see life, the universe and everything. Thinking about my religious/spiritual journey, for example, I am almost certain that I would still be in the Catholic church. I plan to expand on that in an upcoming diary. Working title: "God is a blue puppy."
Anyway, here are two basic lessons children can teach us about the art of persuasion:
--Taking something away goes a lot more smoothly if you do so by offering an alternative.
--If you really want them to take what you have to offer, you can’t force it. You need to act like you don’t care one way or the other, and let them "discover" it on their own.
The first lesson isn’t really specific to anything I experienced with my own kids—more of a general truth I think works for both kids and grown people. (Probably works for dogs too, now that I think of it.) Here’s the scenario…toddler has, in his or her clutches, a forbidden object. Maybe it’s something breakable, or maybe it’s something that actually endangers the child.
You have two choices. You could a)having the advantage in both size and strength, forcably pry the contraband from the tyke’s tiny hands b)entice the child with something else
You’re better off going with B here, because if you choose A, the child is likely to tighten his or her grip, resulting in either damage to the item or injury to the child. I would suggest that people do not outgrow this impulse to cling tightly to anything someone is trying to take away from you. The threat of loss only serves to make it seem that much more valuable.
Back when I was in college, I was still Catholic, and also still of the mind that, in order to be a Christian, I had to believe in the literal truth of most of the Bible stories. My views at the time would have been consistent with what Marcus Borg has called “soft literalism”
Softer forms of literalism are willing to grant that not all of the biblical stories are to be understood in a literal-factual way. For example, the six days of creation might be understood metaphorically, perhaps as geological epochs; and the story of Jonah spending three days in the belly of a big fish may be a parable rather than factual history.
But soft literalism affirms that the really important events in the Bible happened more or less as they are described. For example, the sea really did part in two to permit the Hebrew slaves to escape the Egyptians in the time of the exodus, Jesus really was born of a virgin, and he really did walk on water, multiply loaves, and so forth. The stories of "the spectacular" matter to both hard and soft literalism. Indeed, Christian literalism is to a large extent a literalism of the spectacular. For the earlier paradigm, "the miraculous" is central to the truth of Christianity.
Anyway, at one point in college, I sat in on a theology class Demetrius was taking. Given that this was fully 20 years ago, I can’t remember much in the way of details, but what stands out is that the professor was trying to provide evidence that events in the New Testament did not happen as recorded. I also recall that I didn’t take too kindly to that.
But twenty years later, I am now quite comfortable with notion that the New Testament is not a literal history of the life of Jesus and the early church. I came to that place through my own exploration of faith, my discovery of The Center for Progressive Christianity, and my reading of such authors as Marcus Borg, John Dominic Crossan, and Bishop John Shelby Spong. The reason I was able to release my tight grip on “soft literalism” is that a positive alternative had been offered. That professor 20 years ago, as I perceived it, was trying to take something valuable away from me—specifically my beliefs (which were an important part of my identity), and my sense that I had a coherent understanding of how the whole general mishmash works. And he had offered nothing in its place.
This experience has given me a better awareness of the pitfalls inherent in any attempts to convince people that, as the Weird Al song says
Everything you know is wrong Black is white, up is down and short is long And everything you thought was just so Important doesn't matter
Now, on to the second thing children can teach us about the art of persuasion… If you really want them to take what you have to offer, you can’t force it. You need to act like you don’t care one way or the other, and let them "discover" it on their own.
Our first born has taught us this lesson many times over in his nearly 12 years on this Earth. Food was a lot more likely to be rejected if we actually put it on his plate, but the same item became infinitely more appealing if he put it on his own plate. At mealtimes, we discovered, the thing to do was to make healthy, appropriate food available, and allow him to "forage" for them.
We later discovered that a similar dynamic held true for education. There was about a three year period that we homeschooled him (starting at the end of his kindergarten year.) By that point we had discovered, for example, that it took a team of experts, a behavior plan, and a superhuman level of patience just to extract a measly two sentence journal entry out of him. But the very same child, left to his own devices, taught himself the Hebrew alphabet over spring break. We were reminded of the dialog in the Hitchhiker’s Guide radio series when the characters were aboard Disaster Area’s stunt ship:
TRILLIAN: Hey, that sounds better! Have you managed to make some sense of the controls?
FORD: No, we just stopped fiddling with them. I think this ship has a far better idea of where it’s going than we do.
With our son, we found that when we backed off a bit (did less "fiddling with the controls") we actually got a lot more high quality work out of him. So we turned to the "foraging" model again. I would go to the library and check out a whole bunch of books and CD-ROMs, and just make them available to him. If an activity was freely chosen, he was willing to pour a tremendous amount of time and effort into it, but the activity was someone *else's* idea, that very same energy might go into fighting it.
Counterwill is the name for the natural human instinct to resist being controlled. Although not unique to humans, this dynamic is certainly the most complex and developed in our species. The counterwill instinct is, in essence, an allergy to coercion.
In other words, most humans have this "you're not the boss of me" impulse to some degree. Our son was just blessed with an extra helping or two (or ten) which has allowed us more opportunity than most to observe the phenomenon "up close and personal". I have definitely seen it in the area of religion. It was at the times our son was around people who clearly *wanted* him to believe in God(de) that he was most resistant to the idea. But when he was in religious education at the local Unitarian Universalist church, his "I don't believe in God!" was met with, "So? A lot of people here don't." It was only then that he became more open to considering the possibility of a supreme being.
Maybe this seems counterintuitive to a lot of people, but I've discovered that if I *want* my son to become a Christian one day, my best chance of achieving that outcome is by letting go. Don't push, don't try to indoctrinate, but make the information available if he wants it. Answer questions if he asks them. Of course, he still may choose to keep his distance from religion, but trying to force my belief system on him would just about guarantee that outcome.
A couple weeks ago in Under God vs. The Golden Rule, I noted that I take issue with the Christians who aggressively push to have their belief system treated as more "legitimate" than all others not in spite of my faith, but because of it. What I have discussed here points to a reason they should *want* to back off a bit. The more you push, the more you risk pushing people away. |