On a Positive Note

Somewhere along the line, where the approach to raising children changed from how their folks did it to how they do it today, some modern parents struck upon the idea that nothing can be more important than their children having high self-esteem.

Feeling good about yourself was imperative, they reasoned. Their children could only excel if they looked at themselves as talented and gifted individuals destined to do great things in their lives. They were special, and it was important they and everyone else, even those who didn’t care a lick, knew that.

Now, there's nothing wrong with being positive, but constructive criticism is how we get better. And some people think that anything perceived to be even slightly negative is like a gigantic roadblock thrown up on the highway to a successful and happy life.

Never mind that maybe the kid wanted to be a baseball player and couldn’t hit his way out of a paper bag. We can’t tell him that his .036 batting average called for either finding a new sport or spending countless hours of practice to solve the mystery of hitting the curve ball.

Instead we had to praise him for a nice try and a great effort for actually hitting a foul ball that almost made it half way to first base before slowly rolling to a stop.

Failing grades only served to diminish a child’s confidence, not as a wakeup call that a little more studying was in order. No more trophies for winners, instead we should give everyone a certificate for participating.

This kind of thinking eventually led Herb and Connie Anderson to establish The Wall of Positiveness for their two children, Herb Jr. and Abigail.

They set it up right in the family room. It meant taking down the big moose head Herb claimed he shot while hunting in Montana when he actually bought it at a yard sale. Also removed were Herb and Connie’s wedding pictures and pictures of Connie’s parents (the latter bringing no objection from Herb).

On the wall went everything the Andersons could think of that would show just how wonderful their children were, even if 11-year-old Herb Jr. was kind of a klutz and Abigail, despite being just 10 years old, was already showing a personality and attitude that could make her a great ex-wife someday.

Up went pictures and certificates and report cards (not many of Herb Jr.’s however as his ability to understand the value of hitting the books had not quite caught up with his ability to enjoy being told how wonderful he was).

Going hand-in-hand with The Wall of Positiveness was the philosophy that the best way for your child to succeed was to buy it for him.

Herb Sr. was determined that Herb Jr. would be a successful athlete. While dad was good enough to play on his small-college baseball team, he saw in his son the potential for a Division I scholarship and, just maybe, a pro contract.

So Herb paid thousands of dollars for his son to play on travel baseball teams and to have personal trainers along with the best in equipment. Fine and dandy except for two things: One, while Herb Jr. liked sports he certainly wasn’t particularly gifted at them, and he just as certainly didn’t live, eat and breathe the game. And two, Herb Jr. was so inherently lazy that he dreamed of the day when TV channels could be changed with mental telepathy instead of the ponderous work of using the remote.

Herb complained when Herb Jr. would prefer playing video games to playing outside. He lamented the good old days when he was a boy and he and his friends would be outside day and night.

One day Herb was venting his frustrations to his next-door neighbor, Jack Palmer. Something he was prone to do on a regular basis.

“Herb, let me ask you something,” Jack said. “When you were a kid you loved to play and you played all the time and that’s how you became a good player, right?”

“Yeah,” Herb replied.

“So,” Jack continued. “Wouldn’t the best way for your son to become a good player be for him to play all the time?”

“But he doesn’t do that.”

“That’s my point. He doesn’t love the game to play it enough to be good enough to meet your standards. You can’t do it for him. It has to come from him. Without that, you’re just writing checks and getting upset.”

Herb thought over what Jack said. It made sense. And while he would need to be reminded of that more than once in the future, he eventually came to accept the fact his son would never be a great athlete. He would be whatever his interests and aptitudes led him to be, and he would have to figure that out himself.

And while it won’t provide him with a lifetime of memories of his son’s athletic accomplishments, it has left Connie with a good-sized supply of “Herb Jr.’s Mom” T-shirts.