Negotiating Consequences with Kids?

Yesterday, a mom came up to me in the hallway, "I really liked the way you handled that. I was listening and … I just really like the way you handled that." And it was funny, because what she overheard was just policy here at EdBoost. But, while it's something we teach every tutor, it's something I had to learn the hard way -- and which I know is one of the hardest parts of parenting.

What she, the parent of a 6th grader, overheard, was my conversation with a 7th grader and his mom. The 7th grader has been working on fairly complicated pre-algebra: doing multi-step conversions last month, and moving on to percent increase and decrease problems this month. None of the work is simple, and we find that a lot of it is not at all intuitive for our middle schoolers.

In the last unit, the 7th grader learned to use dimensional analysis, a technique in which students can perform multiple conversions by multiplying an amount or rate by fractions that equal to 1. So, if you want to convert 50 feet per hour to inches per minute, you execute a problem like this:


\(\require{cancel}\dfrac{50\cancel{ \text{ feet}}}{1 \cancel{\text{ hour}}} \times \dfrac{1\cancel{\text{ hour}}}{60 \text{ minutes}} \times \dfrac{12 \text{ inches}}{1\cancel{ \text{ foot}}} = \dfrac{600 \text{ inches}}{60 \text{ minutes}} = 10 \text{ inches per minute}\)


As adults, we might remember doing something like this in chemistry, it probably had something to do with moles, but while a useful exercise (and one I teach in SAT prep) it's not common or simple. Our 7th grader told us that his teacher allowed him to use a calculator for these problems. So, we had him write the problems out (which often took a long time and multiple attempts) and then we let him use a calculator to find his final answers. But, when he got the test back, he lost several points on each problem (despite having correct answers). He told me, "My teacher said I used the calculator too much." So, my decision was easy: no more calculator.

As we moved into percent increases and decrease, the no calculator rule made even more sense. While the student was starting to understand that in order to find percent change, he needed to write a \(\dfrac{\text{change}}{\text{original}}\) fraction and then divide (these concepts are still getting solidified in his mind), we found that he struggled mightily when it came to decimal division. Not only were the mechanics of long division hard for him, but he struggled to get the decimal in the right place, and only set up the division problem correctly about 50% of the time (like so many of our students, when writing long division in a "house" format, he tends to put the divisor on the inside of the house rather than the outside, essentially doing the problem backwards).

Overall, he was struggling.

And then, last Thursday, Sunny caught him using the calculator on his iPad. He read him the riot act. And then Kaitlin caught him using the calculator on his iPad, and that was the last straw. Sunny told the 7th grader: you're staying until 6:30 for the rest of the month, so you can do extra work and get this math nailed down.

Friday was a holiday, so on Monday, Sunny let the tutors know that the 7th grader would be staying until 6:30 for the next two weeks. At 3:00 the student's mom came up. The 7th grader had no homework and had asked his mom if he could skip coming to EdBoost. Sunny explained the situation. The student came up to argue: his teacher said that he could use a calculator, and he really does know how to do the math, and he's allowed to use a calculator, and his teacher said so.

Sunny got called away, so I held the line, "You need to know how to do this math -- whether your teacher lets you use a calculator or not, some teacher in the future will not, and a significant part of the SAT will not, so you need to be able to do this work accurately, and right now you can't. So, us not letting you use a calculator is not about punishment, it's about making sure that you can do the work."

Then he switched tacks, "I don't have any work, I have nothing to do today."

"You can review the math."

"But my teacher said we CAN use the calculator."

"We asked you not to use the calculator and you did. You said that you were allowed to use a calculator and then you said that the teacher said that you used it too much -- I don't know what I can believe from you. I promise that knowing how to do the math without a calculator will not harm your ability to do it with a calculator, so this is how we're going to do it. "

"But my teacher said…"

We went about 10 rounds. Maybe more. I just kept repeating myself: this was for him, to improve skills which he would need, and we would simply not change our minds.

In the end, he stayed until 6:30.

And mom had our backs. "What they say is what you must do!" she said to him. She also reiterated, "You know I don't let you use the calculator at home." But she had come up without him at 3:00. She had let him stay in the car. He had convinced her that he did not need to come. She'd come, essentially, to ask us for help -- she wanted us to force him to stay, which we did. But she was not able to do it on her own. His tenacity with me showed me how often his ploy works: he wears people down. And he's good at it.

Like so many kids, he can beat his mom. But, he's not our first super-stubborn student. He can't beat us nearly as easily.

In 15 years of running an after school program, here's what we've learned. Think hard about the punishment you're about to mete out BEFORE you say it. If you can't enforce it (or simply don't want to) don't say it. Come up with something else.

But, once you say it, commit 100%. If they learn nothing else from adults, kids learn how quickly we cave. We give up; we wear out; we forget. Don't be that adult. Dole out "punishments" out of a deep concern for their skills, be compassionate and understanding about what they can handle, both academically, and emotionally, but once you declare a punishment, stick to it. That's how kids learn that you mean what you say.

To my own kid's frustration, this is one parenting skill I have honed. Though I've learned that all of this is much harder when talking to your own kid, I've come up against some very worthy opponents here at EdBoost. All the negotiating that gets attempted here has done a lot to strengthen my resolve. I think very hard before I threaten my daughter with any kind of consequence: have I already put a deposit down on that treat that I'm threatening to take away? Am I willing to disappoint the other kids/parents involved if I take away that playdate or sleepover? Will I be home tomorrow when she loses TV or am I actually punishing my husband by taking away screen time? I think before I speak. But once I speak, I try my best to hold the line.

And, I was proud when my daughter came to tutoring this summer and, when she goofed off, and her tutor said that she'd have to talk to her mom, my daughter said, "Please no!" and shaped up. I want her to be just a little bit scared of me being upset with her. And dealing with middle schoolers for so many years has really helped me practice being the parent I hope to be. 

The Heavy Topics - Too Much for Little Kids, or Just Right?

"Mom," my five year old asked, as we stood in line to board a plane in the New Orleans airport, "Can we talk more about Hitler?"

I stuttered, trying to think of a response that would sound normal, but would also signal to everyone around us that we'd just been walking past the WWII museum and our interest in Hitler was purely historical.

But over the following months, I found that her interest in Hitler was persistent.  She still asks, out of the blue, and always in terribly inappropriate places, for me to tell her more about Hitler.  She's also interested in Japanese internment camps (I highly recommend Fred Korematsu Speaks Up for a very accessible book on the subject), Anne Frank, slavery, and (very recently) the Donner party.

And, so, I wonder, am I a bad mom for talking to her about these things? I'm lucky: my kid does not get nightmares or get queasy or obsessive when she learns about these subjects.  I know that, for some kids, just a discussion about concentration camps would lead to weeks of sleepless nights. Not so for my girl. But, I had to show my six-year old Schindler's List (she was riveted) because I simply could not remember anything else about Hitler or the Nazis to tell her! And what kind of parent shows her kindergartner Schindler's List?

It makes me feel guilty. And then I come to work and my middle schoolers and high schoolers don't know what the internment camps were. They are not sure who the bad guys were in World War II. They are totally shocked to learn that slaves were brought to the United States by force.

As shocking as their gaps in knowledge are, it's easy to see how kids miss information -- or misconstrue the information that they do learn. The other day, my girl asked me to confirm that slavery doesn't exist any more (and, of course, nerd that I am, I had to explain that it's illegal in the United States, but that there are still people who are held against their will...). I confirmed that slavery is illegal and she followed up with, "That's right. Because we don't use cotton anymore."

"That's right," I almost agreed with this very sensible-sounding statement. Hold up, what? "We don't use cotton anymore, so we don't need slaves," she explained.  We were on the tail end of African-American history month.

I was proud that she knew that slaves often picked cotton, but we clearly needed to review, "What do you think your shirt is made of?"
"Fabric."
"Where does the fabric come from?"
"The fabric store."
"Ok, yes, but what is it made of?"
Shrug.
She was very surprised to learn that it was made of cotton -- and that the cotton balls we use to clean her ear piercings are made of cotton.  As we walked home, I was able to disentangle the existence of slavery from the existence of cotton in her mind.

But I had to wonder where this idea came from.

I can only figure that they must have talked about slavery in passing in class (it was African-American history month, after all), but I suspect the teacher didn't want to get into it too much.  And, where the teacher left off, my girl filled in the blanks, completely incorrectly.

Our kids do this all the time. There are topics that we find so important, that we don't talk about them.  We wait for the right time.  We wait until our kids are ready. Sometimes, at least, in the meantime, the kids "figure it out" for themselves, and not always correctly.

The other day, a co-worker asked me when students should learn about jury duty.  We tried to puzzle out if kids would learn about it before 12th grade civics. We sure hoped so. But our middle schoolers and high schoolers knew almost nothing about juries. Surely some of their parents must have been called to jury duty, but they did not transfer that information to their kids.  My girl knows about juries because I had to serve a few months ago and I talked about it incessantly. She learned about jury duty just by listening to me when I had to spend a week calling in and trying to predict if I would have to go to the court.  Imagine what she would have learned if she had been a sentient human the time I actually served on a jury! Just by talking to her about my life, about a truly boring, but important aspect of my civic duties, I was able to teach my kid a civics lesson that we expect all citizens to understand -- and which a whole lot of young people know nothing about.

As adults, I think we often forget to talk to our kids. And sometimes, we deliberately don't talk with them because we don't want to get things wrong, or we want to avoid bringing up topics that we worry they are not ready for. But there are two worse alternatives: they never learn about "the important stuff," or they learn the wrong way.  I think, for all the times she embarrasses me asking about Hitler in public, I will continue to err on the side of talking when I can.