Inculcating good habits in our children

Was thinking about this for much of the past week: how critical are the habits of young children in determining their way of life in much later years? Since I don't know enough about the lives of others, I started by examining the question in the light of my own experience. I think the simple answer is "yes, more critical than most would imagine". Take the example of reading for me. In my childhood and teenage years, reading was never the first priority. I read because I had to - to study for exams, to check out some information. In other words, reading was NOT a habit/routine in my life. Till this day, even after I realize how important reading is - for knowledge and the training of the mind - it somehow is not part of my daily way of life. As in, picking up a book to read is not a natural part of me; I had to consciously remind myself to do it. Or, if you like, reading is NOT pleasure for me, as it is for others I know.

this makes me think that, for habits that are worth carrying on in life, they are perhaps best inculcated in our children when they are much younger. I am beginning to learn - the hard way now - that if I take the easy route of 'letting them be' when they are younger, the good habits - such as being neat and organized, doing first things first, picking up a book to read etc - are far harder to inculcate when they are older and more 'hardened' in their ways.

On hindsight, it may also mean that, at an early stage of parenting, some lifestyle-changing decisions may have to be made. I recall one such change. I used to do this as soon as I come home from work: switch on the TV, slouch into the sofa, and hang my legs up. Hours usually passed unnoticed. My wife noticed that soon, this became the habit of my older children - the first habitual instinct for them when they were free was to go for the TV remote control. TV then had an uncanny way of gobbling up the time that can be spent in more wholesome ways. It came at time when we felt that we had to take a rather drastic decision to annul the habit - so that we could replace them with better ones, like having family dinner and worship after that. We decided to disconnect the TV from the channels. It was a painful decision for me - because by that time, I was a TV addict. True enough, I suffered from 'withdrawal symptoms'. But the positives we gradually got out of this decision far outweighed what I missed. [in fact, my eldest told me a few days ago that he now thinks that it was good for him].

The point is: good habits compete with bad ones. We may find the effort of inculcating good habits in our children (and in us, as models) far more difficult if we, at the same time, sabotage ourselves by inadvertently modeling bad habits. The easy part is in telling our children what good habits are; the difficult part is making painful lifestyle-changing decisions to weed out bad habits in ourselves and to start modeling good ones ...

Coping with 4 children

Whenever I meet a stranger and he/she discovers that I have 4 children, the most common reaction is, "how do you cope?" I usually just smile. actually, I never really gave this question much thought, till a few moments ago ...

As I look closer at myself, I realize that, with time, one of my coping strategy is essentially to lower the expectation for myself - as in the expectation of how much I can do for my children. it is to recognize that, given limited time and energy, I can't do everything. There is a need to prioritize. I guess when some people imagine a father of four children, they think of one constantly under pressure and in action - driving around to fetch children, coaching them in their school work, thinking of ways to earn more money to meet their growing needs, bringing them to vacations, dealing with their naughty behaviors ... [long list]. Actually, thinking about it, I do these things, but not to a point where doing so tires me and rips the enjoyment out of me. For example, I do drive my children to school - but not everyday; I do coach my children in their schoolwork - but not everyday; I do deal with their undesirable behaviours - but not every time.

In fact, a practical way for me to cope and prioritize these things is by way of a fixed
weekly schedule. I coach them in their schoolwork on tue and thur nights. I send them to school on wed, thur, and fri mornings ... But some may wonder, "what if your children want help for school work on other days of the week?" well, if it is a one-off question that requires only a short explanation, I would oblige; but if it requires involved explanations, I would ask them to wait till tue or thur nights. [to me, this is both a way to cope for me as well as a way for my children to learn not to take their dad for granted].

Of course, coping with the needs of children cannot be reduced to just a mechanical adherence to a schedule. I found it also important to deal with our own attitude towards our children. As I always advise my children: if there is something you have to do, it is much better to do it happily. I guess I have to apply it first to myself. Since being a father of 4 children is an 'inescapable responsibility', it is much better to do it happily. I find that once the mindset is one of enjoying the time with the children, the stresses are much reduced.

Ultimately, the answer to the question of "how I cope" is "I can't". At least, I can't do it alone. I have found one of the greatest encouragement of being a christian father is this: only God can move and change the hearts of my children; and I am so glad I can lean upon Him for that.

Thinking about thoughtful children

Have been thinking for some time now about the wisdom needed to bring up thoughtful children - as in, children who have a thinking and enquiring disposition about issues of life they read about or encounter. [I am aware that the word "thoughtful" has another more common usage that roughly means considerate to others. That is also another very important virtue, and perhaps a theme of another blog ...]. I like to see my children reflecting upon the things they experience - whether it be a book they read, a piece of news they encounter, or the opinions of someone they hear - and offering well-reasoned insights about them; and doing so on a regular basis.

I think the smartfone generation, with information literally at the fingertips, breeds a certain illusion: that since information is so readily available, we are now a "knowledge generation". The problem is: with so much more knowledge so quickly accessible, there is a temptation to skim knowledge on it's surface instead of thinking about them deeply. This is the proverbial "mile wide but inch deep" way of dealing with information. Many chidren (and adults) therefore think that we know a lot, but it may be the case of knowing very little about the things we know about.

The sad thing is that schools may not be of much help in this regard. The state of affairs of school 'education' in Singapore today is such that almost only the results matter. Teachers, too, (often unconsciously) teach by going straight to the end result of what they intend students to know, skipping much of the reasoning that leads to the results. As an example, I recall how my teachers taught me about the effect of multiplying a number by ten is the "moving of the decimal point one position to the right"; I don't recall the teacher discussing the reasoning process that leads to this result. I doubt it is much different today. [in fact, I checked with all my children who have passed this point of their maths learning. None of them can explain the process to me; neither can they recall the teachers explaining it to them].

So, I guess it is back on the shoulders of parents. It is not easy. I have been trying to ask more "why" questions to my children (especially the older ones). I also try to model thoughtfulness by talking aloud my thoughts to them whenever we discuss an issue (usually over dinner table).

Anyone has something to share on this matter?

Dad needs hugs

Unknown to me, one of the things that I have grown to look forward to when I step home from work is this: my four-year-old running towards me, take a great leap into my arms, culminating in what we have called a 'tight huggie'. I have always thought that it was a gesture of love that I show to my young son. As time went own, I am beginning to feel that it is the other way round too: a gesture of love from my son that I need each day.

Brought up in a 'typical' Chinese home, I am not used to this woozy idea of a father needing love. So it is a little embarrassing to admit this: I need love - from my wife, and my children. And not just from the occasional birthday gifts and regular acts of duty (something I don't despise though - because children obeying their parents is surely a consistent form of love). I also need regular tangible acts of love. It makes me feel wanted, appreciated, and loved. It makes me look forward to coming home.

Apart from the daily 'tight huggie' from my youngest - and he is the most consistent in the home, I also 'demand' a hug from my wife soon after that. [sometimes, my wife is busy at the kitchen and feels too busy to dispense these morsels of love. The youngest will then call out, "mummy, you forget to hug daddy!"] it is sometimes a nuisance to her - especially when she is about to pour the vegetables into the wok. But I am a bit spoilt - I stand there looking really miserable and mutter something like, "darling, i had a tiring day" until she wraps her arms around me. She doesn't say it - but I know she also looks forward to the hug from me each day ...

Although less frequently, I would occasionally go to my girls' (number 2 and 3) room in the night and ask for hugs too. The number 3 (11 years old) is a bit more generous. When she is on the mood, she would sit on my lap - to hug and kiss me goodnite. The number 2 (16 years old) is more miserly. She has started to feel shy, but still do not mind a hug and a peck on the cheek from me. As to the eldest boy (18 years old), hugs are out for a him - he will stiffen like a piece of wood. But putting my arms round his shoulders and giving him a hard pat on his back are what remains of physical bonding.

I guess we all need to be loved - in tangible ways, and regularly. I don't feel guilty or embarrassed asking for hugs any more.

Building friendship with my children

I received a parenting encouragement yesterday - from a surprising source: my father.

My family was having our regular once-a-week dinner-out with my parents. We were seated in longish tables - my parents were seated opposite my eldest son and I. I was having quite an extended chat with my son (on something that I couldn't remember exactly now, but it was about singapore's population; anyway, the contents of our chat is not the point here). Halfway in the chat, I noticed my parents were observing us carefully, then they started giggling. Distracted, I asked them to share the joke. They pointed to us and said, "both of you look more like friends, not father and son".

I am not sure if they meant to say it as something they felt positive or a sign of degenerationn of my fatherly authority. That they found it amusing could mean that it is something they find rare to them, and hopefully in a pleasantly refreshing way. I would interpret it positively. I have always thought that as my children grow up, my relationship with them should morph gradually from one of teacher-student to one of friends (and perhaps mentor-mentee). This way, they will find it easier to share to me their struggles of life and easier for me to present the more human aspect of myself to them too.

For a long time, I was wondering if I was making any progress in this long-term friendship-building exercise. It is encouraging to receive a positive report card occasionally from an external party, especially from one's father.

Focussing on the positives

The sermon in church today was taken from a passage that reads, "Be careful for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known unto God ..." among the things the preacher mentioned was the highlighting of "with thanksgiving". To him, this phrase shows that one effective way to counter cares of life is to count our blessings; or, in other words, to focus on the positives, much less on the negatives.

As I was sitting there, I thought this idea of focussing on the positives instead of harping on the negatives can also be applied to our dealings with our children. Too often, perhaps due to our Chinese upbringing, the instinct is to zoom in on the children's weaknesses and their shortcomings. We see their poor grades, bad habits, disrespectfulness towards us, and ingratitude. In the process, we are conveniently blind to their helpfulness, cheerfulness, care for one another, thoughtfulness, and other positives. Many parents I know are very discouraged with parenting partly because of this imbalanced view of the children's negatives over the positives. We see our children through a critical lens instead of via a thankful one. I think we will all have more energies to soldier on as parents if we remind ourselves more of the positives.

Life is too short to grieve over our children's deficiencies and brood over what they can be like: bright, beautiful, obedient, grateful ... - all the perfect dream characteristics that we imagine other people's children possess. I think we should spend a large part of that time on just enjoying them for who they are, and being thankful for them at that.

How to communicate care to the children?

Many people tell me that communication is the key to good relationships. I believe that. This is why I have been working on it all these years - with my children. It is not getting easier, not only because more children came along down the road, but also because it gets more challenging when the children grow older into their teenage years. Some friends complained that their teenage children and them seem to be on 'different wavelengths', resulting in communication breakdowns.

On my part, I have had my fair share of such breakdowns - the 'conversation' ends abruptly with both feeling the other had not understood him/her. These happen when each wants to forward his/her agenda and there is no real listening carefully to the other person. I am the chief culprit of this: I want to tell my child something I think is important and I want to drum into him/her, regardless of whether the listener agrees or not. I am no expert in communication. But I know that this sort of 'conversation' will usually be unsuccessful because there is no sincere empathy for how the listener feels or would take to my message. In other words, I must start from my child's perspective of things, not mine alone. One archetypal example that my wife and I talk a lot about is what to say to my child at the door when he/she comes home late. We used to start the doorstep conversation by asking (or interrogating, really), "why so late? What happened?" without exception, the question is greeted with a black face and silence. We used this scenario to remind ourselves the pitfall of not taking the children's perspective when we want to communicate: we want to show care, but they read it as irritation and lack of understanding for a long hard day.

There are many things we want to communicate about with our children. But one of the most critical one is care. Yes, all parents care for their children in sacrificial ways that the children will never fully understand till they become parents. But it is also important that they feel the care communicated to them - not just from our lips but also from how we interact with them. Care-communication is an art with few masters. I guess we do it differently. Over the last few years, I have been trying to show care primarily through spending more time talking WITH (not just talking TO) them and enjoying their company. I think the physical component is important too - I give hugs to my children as often as I can [err, not to my eldest boy though - he will act squirmish, for him, I can still put my arm around his shoulders]. I must say these are not natural things for an 'eastern' guy like me brought up in a family where my parents' primary mode of care is to provide us with material things. I am not sure if my children feel my care - I should ask them - but i am certainly learning to enjoy their company and I do feel closer to their lives.