Schooled

A few weeks ago, I decided to switch up my parenting methods to include a merit system. I know that it's not a new idea. Kindergarten teachers practically invented it with their gold star stickers but something had to be done in my house, particularly with my son.

Dylan is twelve, wildly hormonal and struggling with one foot in childhood and one foot in adolescence. For months, the only conversation we were having with any regularity was focused on the flaws in his behaviour.

It was exhausting.

And demoralizing for both of us.

One day, angry, exasperated, with my very last nerve frayed beyond repair, I said,

"What the hell is wrong with you? Why can't you....."

I stopped, horrified, as I watched his face crumple in on itself and his shoulders slump. Years ago, I had vowed that I would not raise my children the way that my father had reared his. I would not turn parenting into a war that needed to be won. And here I was slinging one verbally abusive arrow after another. I felt deep, burning shame and immediate regret.

I made things right with Dylan that day but the experience was like a bruise that wouldn't heal. I had to find a better way, other than the sting of constant criticism, to point my kids in the right direction.

Positive reinforcement.

Now, the kids get check marks for getting it right and if we don't catch them in the act, they are encouraged to make their good deeds known. At the end of the week, we add up the check marks and if they accumulate twelve, they are rewarded.

The new program appears to be working like a charm.

Recently, I gave Olivia three choices for her reward. She could either get a new book at Barnes and Noble or an ice cream at Coldstone or two hours of time alone with me. Frankly, with the other two options, I didn't think I stood a chance. My daughter loves ice cream. Abnormally so. But she chose me.

Dylan, when faced with similar options, chose to go to the movies with his stepbrother and Dallas, which was also surprising, because my son lives for trips to Barnes and Noble.

Once again, it turns out that my children are the teachers and I am the student. Imagine that.