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I have always encouraged Amelia to participate in competitive settings at school–from Reflections, to storytelling (doesn’t sound competitive but it is), to the Spelling Bee. I believe she benefits a great deal by participating. We are lucky because it turns out that she enjoys competing very much. There are some aspects of competition, though, that aren’t as enjoyable. Competition can hurt when you discover that you are not as good as your peers. It can hurt even more when you give a contest everything you’ve got and still fall short. Some of Amelia’s experiences in the past few months have led me to think more about the nature of competition and its role in the lives of our children.
Faded, frayed, and well-worn
One thing you might not know about Amelia is that she loves to swim. Unfortunately, swimming has not come easily to her. It is human nature to dislike or quit the things that we are not good at, but to her credit, swimming has been a big exception to this in Amelia’s life. Over a series of years, she has continued to want to swim and to struggle to improve, pushing on despite disappointments.
Recently, this has especially been true. For the past 6 months, Amelia has been in the pool an average of 4 times a week, giving up her acting class and other fun things after school in order to commit herself to the pool. Every three weeks, the swim session ends. Every three weeks, the instructor has handed Amelia a card that directs her to enroll again in her current level. She would love to be on the swim team, but doesn’t yet qualify because of her swim level. It frustrates her to see much younger children on the swim team and in her lessons.
As I have thought about how to talk about this trial with my dear girl, I have been puzzled, and I have changed my mind a few times. At first, when I didn’t understand what a long road to passing it would be, I encouraged her to focus hard on passing her level. Then I realized that it was more important to focus on her actual progress (wisdom comes with experience): “You swim better than you swam 6 months ago. You know more strokes than you knew 6 months ago. You have far more endurance than you had 6 months ago. Look how far you’ve come! I’m so proud of your hard work.” I think she feels better when we reflect on these facts, but the reflection can’t erase her frustration. Focusing on how far she’s come doesn’t change her desire to progress with the other swimmers.
The other day, when a swimming session had just ended, Duncan asked when we were going to celebrate. He was confused, remembering a few weeks before when he has passed his level and we had taken him on a special outing to celebrate. His innocent question caused me to ponder. Celebrating every 3 weeks wouldn’t work, because too frequent celebration simply becomes routine. However, why wait? Why were we waiting for Amelia to pass her level to celebrate? She has done just about everything that one could want to celebrate as a parent: She has worked hard, she has significantly improved, and she has shown great courage by enduring in the face of disappointment.
The other night when we took Amelia out to dinner to celebrate her win at the spelling bee, Pdad mentioned to her that if things ever changed for us financially, we might not be able to take her out, but we would be pleased to celebrate her success just the same. This led me to think about winning v. not winning and passing v. not passing. If Amelia stumbled on a word and earned 2nd place, would we still take her to dinner? What if Amelia placed 3rd or 5th, because she missed a word she simply didn’t know? What then? Should our decision hinge on how much she had studied? On how much she had learned? Or how she actually placed?
Good decisions can be made either way on these questions. We would have good reason for taking Amelia out to dinner at some point (regardless of whether she passed her level) to celebrate her hard work at swimming and her courage in sticking with it. We could celebrate now and let the day she passes her level slip by with little fanfare. This would send the message that it is not what she achieves, but how she strives that is important. That isn’t a bad message. If Amelia is never able to swim on the team, it won’t be a disappointment to me (except if it is to her, of course). The reason I think swimming is great for Amelia has little to do with swimming itself. It has a lot to do with developing an appreciation for athletic attainment, learning to work hard, cultivating self-discipline, and choosing to make sacrifices to achieve her goals.
But there is also good reason for deciding to hold on the celebration until she actually does pass. By holding our celebration, we honor the goal Amelia set for herself many months ago as significant. She didn’t set a goal to “work hard.” Hard work is a good intention, but a squishy goal. Results are important. Life is hard that way sometimes. If after years of swimming, Amelia were to become a lifeguard, the people she protected would want to know not that she had worked hard in her lessons, not that she had stuck with it despite disappointment, but that she had actually attained the skills that would help her be a lifesaver in the case of emergency.
It is the same way with so many things. While we can be full of compassion for those who struggle and begin with disadvantages, and full of admiration when people put everything they have into a given project or endeavor, we usually decide whom to give the job or the scholarship to based on what someone actually does, not on what he desired to do or on how hard he worked. Fortunately, desire and hard work usually correlate with success–if not in the near term, then in the long term.
It is a parent’s role to help set goals and expectations. If I had two children of similar age, yet different athletic or scholarly inclinations, it might be appropriate to have different goals and rewards for them. The fact that results matter doesn’t mean that a B student or a less than star athlete should never have a celebration. (Hindsight suggests that a good goal for Amelia might have been “being able to breaststroke to the flags” rather than to pass her level.) But is also a parent’s role to help his or her children understand reality and prepare for life. I still remember the day my father told me that because of my fine motor issues becoming a surgeon was not a realistic goal. I was so sad! But it was something I needed to know.
When Amelia finally does pass her level it will be an event truly worthy of celebration. It will be worthy of celebration because she has worked so hard and stuck with it for so long. It will also be worthy of celebration because we know better than most that passing is meaningful. It isn’t easy and it isn’t based on luck. Those who pass have learned to swim better than those who don’t pass. Passing your level means that you have learned a lot about how to swim.
Before her school spelling bee, Amelia and I talked about what things would be like if she won or didn’t win. I said something about how even if she tripped up on a word and ended up in third place instead of first, it would still be a significant accomplishment. She said, “and if I go out on my very first word, I will still have done well, because I won my classroom bee, right?” I said, “No. No, if you go out on your first word, I will not say that you did well at the Spelling Bee today. I will say that the last few months of study have been lots of fun and I will miss it. I will also say that I am so glad that you did all that study despite missing your first word, because you have learned so much. But I will not say that you did well at the spelling bee today.” I hope that she was able to take that comment the way I meant it. It wasn’t supposed to be pressure, but just a statement of fact. I did not mean to devalue the fun we’ve had together and the things she’s learned by suggesting that winning the bee is more important. I hope she knows it isn’t. Regardless of results, I am Amelia’s biggest cheerleader, her best fan by far.
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11 Responses to “Competition: Success and Struggle”
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When my kids were younger they regularly took swimming lessons and they rarely passed off their level. I decided the kids needed to just go swimming more often in order to practice what they learned in their lessons. That was so much more fun that we gave up the lessons entirely and got season passes to 7 Peaks or the Orem pool instead. The kids are becoming competent swimmers and have been able to teach Ben (who I could never get into a formal swimming lesson) what they know. Of course, our goal is simply recreational competence.
Sam worked with the scouts to earn a swimming merit badge. He wasn’t the best one in the group, but he wasn’t the worst one either–and he got the badge. I guess I am most concerned that my children aren’t the worst–I don’t care if they are the best. That doesn’t mean I don’t want the best for them. Perhaps this has something to do with the way I grew up. I was shy and fearful. I never did sports and tried out for very few things. Nevertheless, I don’t look back and wish my mother had pushed me more. I don’t regret lost opportunities or unfulfilled potential. I just wanted her to be nice to me, and she was. My kids are not as shy and weird as I was–they handle more and perform better and that makes me proud of them. I like your kids too. They are good and interesting.
Kacy–I believe you are right. Group swimming lessons are often ineffective. Although in other contexts you might think a 6:1 instructor to student ratio is great, in the swimming pool it isn’t always that fantastic. If you end up only swimming 5 minutes out of every 30, you can’t expect to improve very fast. We have had more luck with private swimming lessons, but it is definitely not in the budget for them to have private swimming lessons every day. Perhaps if I were a better mother I would be simply taking my kids to the pool every afternoon, not dropping them off on the deck for lessons. On the other hand, given their ages and the gaps between them, this is tricky. It has only happened very recently that I trust Duncan not to drown if I’m not by his side every second. Also, another complication is that I myself am a poor swimmer (not quite up to the recreational competence standard?), so I can’t teach them much (and must in fact be vigilant not to pass on my fear of the water).
As to your other comments, I wonder if this is an example of the truth that different children need different things. This is why it’s good that our kids each have parents who have known them and loved them from infancy who know them better than anyone else can. We are experts on our own children. Unfortunately, this doesn’t mean we are always right in what we think is best for them, but it gives us a better shot at it.
I am interested in how our parenting is affected by our own family of origin experiences. My parents always pushed me to achieve, to try out for things and enter contests. I loved competing and it all seemed to turn out well for me. Naturally, I take this experience and turn to my children with the same approach. It is interesting to hear that your parenting has also been shaped by your experiences–but perhaps in the opposite direction.
I suppose it’s important sometimes to step back and look at the goal. Not to just run with what we did or with what our parents did for us, so that our kids end up in the same place that we did, but question whether that’s the best thing (and as above, this has to be fitted to the individual child. It’s hard for me to remember that Amelia isn’t me, but she isn’t). Obviously, the true goal is for our children to be happy. I clearly need to watch out for those instances in which I am tempted to conclude that high achievement = happiness. It doesn’t.
> Regardless of results, I am Amelia’s biggest cheerleader, her best fan by far.
huh? you may be taller (though not “by far”) but I’m definately the bigger cheerleader.
I’ve enjoyed lurking for some time now, but this post has prompted me to finally comment. I enjoy your blog very much, and I find it insightful. Reading your blog makes me realize that I should call you more often. Tell Amelia that I am proud of her for working so hard to become proficient.
I think that any parenting style taken to an extreme is detrimental, but I don’t think that anything I’ve read from anyone here could be construed as that. I think that there is such a thing as being too competitive, and often I reach that point. It is key to find balance between the fun of the journey and the dogged pursuit of excellence. That being said, I prefer to err on the side of striving to excel rather than enjoying the moment–as you have alluded to this is likely due to how I was raised.
This mentality that was born/bred into me leads me at times to temporarily wonder if what I am doing is good enough. I don’t see this as a bad thing unless I allow myself to dwell on that too long. At the same time, I remember believing at a young age (and still believe to this very day) that I was/am born to greatness. I’ve always had the belief that I could do just about *ANYTHING* if I wanted it badly enough. I don’t see this as a bad thing either. It took me years to recognize the fact that not everyone believes this. But I still do, and as a result, I encourage my kids to think this way. Sure, I impose some limits (none of us can defy gravity–yet.)
I think there are flaws in the way we all act and parent. Gratefully, God sees, knows and has a purpose for all.
I may have come off (above) as more of a free wheelin’ sort of mom than I really am. I expect a lot from my kids and make them do hard things like being kind when they are not inclined and working hard when it is unpleasant. When they seriously disappoint me, I tell them. Nevertheless, if my children had worked as hard as Amelia but missed the first word of the school-wide bee, I would never hesitate to tell them they had “done well.” My parenting style is influenced by Elder Holland’s talk from a few years ago, The Tongue of Angels: “Praise each child individually for what that child is, and help him or her escape our culture’s obsession with comparing, competing, and never feeling we are enough.”
Christian and I have talked about competition a lot, as I consider his competitive nature one of his least flattering traits. I think having a drive to succeed is good and is different from being competitive. Competition includes the component of beating others. Christian has had some experiences recently in business where a cooperative approach to management and negotiation has served him much better than a competitive one. We work hard to encourage a cooperative spirit among our kids along with compassion and thoughtfulness regarding others. If this undermines their competitive edge, I can live with it. But I don’t worry about it, given their father’s influence.
I don’t think winning is selfish or mean. And I would never encourage my kids to throw a race or do anything less than their best. Although, “Pa” in Little House on the Prairie does just this in a log-sawing competition and in his specific case, I think it was a nice thing to do, if not the “right” thing to do.
I guess I’d better defend myself!
Kacy said: “Nevertheless, if my children had worked as hard as Amelia but missed the first word of the school-wide bee, I would never hesitate to tell them they had ‘done well.’”
What I said to Amelia was: “if you go out on your first word, I will not say that you did well at the Spelling Bee today. I will say that the last few months of study have been lots of fun and I will miss it. I will also say that I am so glad that you did all that study despite missing your first word, because you have learned so much.” In other words, if she went out on her first word, I would not hesitate to say that she had done well in her studies and hard work, but I wouldn’t say that she did well at the spelling bee. I think there is an important difference between these two thoughts.
There were two reasons that I said what I did to Amelia:
1) Credibility: Had I told Amelia that if she missed her first word I would consider her to have done well at the spelling bee that day, I suspect she would have rolled her eyes at me. Despite her question, Amelia herself did not believe that missing her first word would be a satisfactory performance after all the work she’d done. If I suggested that the outcome of the bee didn’t matter at all, I would lose my credibility as someone worth turning to for an evaluation of her performance. And I wouldn’t just lose credibility–I would be subtly devaluing the activity she had chosen to participate in. If being able to spell more words correctly isn’t better than being able to spell fewer, then why participate?
[This isn't to ignore the obvious: that spelling bee performance doesn't depend solely upon spelling prowess. Your own tongueslip, a judge's poor pronunciation, or just the bad luck of getting the one word you didn't have nailed down will take you out of contention. That is why it is important for Amelia to understand that her word study is in itself worthwhile--there is no such thing as having complete control over your spelling bee destiny. If she isn't able to enjoy some of the intrinsic goods of word study--satisfaction over mastering the intricacy of complex words, greater ability to understand more difficult texts, the simple enjoyment of learning new words and their etymologies--then preparing for spelling bees is probably an activity I should discourage her from].
2) It did not make sense for Amelia to view winning her class bee as an important achievement. Let me put this claim in context: Amelia has had and will continue to have some significant struggles with school. It is not true that because she does some things well that everything comes easily for her. Spelling, however, does come relatively easily. Amelia began the year as the best speller in her class. She was excused from group spelling study because she already knew all the words that they would learn this year. Amelia is not a spelling genius, but she does spell better than most of her peers. To be able to spell as well or just slightly better than her classmates was not an appropriate goal for her and it was not what motivated her hours of study. Achievement comes from stretching ourselves and the truth is that her classroom provided her no stretch.
Hi Pmom! I’m so glad you left a comment on my blog so I could find your website!! Marah loves spelling (and reading), too. I think Amelia and she would be two peas in a pod. How I wish we could see you again!
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